“Savage woke me by saying that there was someone in the room. I sat up and looked and, as I live, Quatermain, standing gazing at me in such a position that the light of dawn from the window-place fell upon her, was my wife.” “How was she dressed?” I asked at once. “In a kind of white robe cut rather low, with her hair loose hanging to her waist, but carefully combed and held outspread by what appeared to be a bent piece of ivory about a foot and a half long, to which it was fastened by a thread of gold.” “Is that all?” “No. Upon her breast was that necklace of red stones with the little image hanging from its centre which those rascals gave her and she always wore.” “Anything more?” “Yes. In her arms she carried what looked like a veiled child. It was so still that I think it must have been dead.” “Well. What happened?” “I was so overcome I could not speak, and she stood gazing at me with wide-opened eyes, looking more beautiful than I can tell you. She never stirred, and her lips never moved—that I will swear. And yet both of us heard her say, very low but quite clearly: ‘The mountain, George! Don’t desert me. Seek me on the mountain, my dear, my husband.’” “Well, what next?” “I sprang up and she was gone. That’s all.” “Now tell me what _you_ saw and heard, Savage.” “What his lordship saw and heard, Mr. Quatermain, neither more nor less. Except that I was awake, having had one of my bad dreams about snakes, and saw her come through the door.” “Through the door! Was it open then?” “No, sir, it was shut and bolted. She just came through it as if it wasn’t there. Then I called to his lordship after she had been looking at him for half a minute or so, for I couldn’t speak at first. There’s one more thing, or rather two. On her head was a little cap that looked as though it had been made from the skin of a bird, with a gold snake rising up in front, which snake was the first thing I caught sight of, as of course it would be, sir. Also the dress she wore was so thin that through it I could see her shape and the sandals on her feet, which were fastened at the instep with studs of gold.” “I saw no feather cap or snake,” said Ragnall. “Then that’s the oddest part of the whole business,” I remarked. “Go back to your room, both of you, and if you see anything more, call me. I want to think things over.” They went, in a bewildered sort of fashion, and I called Hans and spoke with him in a whisper, repeating to him the little that he had not understood of our talk, for as I have said, although he never spoke it, Hans knew a great deal of English. “Now, Hans,” I said to him, “what is the use of you? You are no better than a fraud. You pretend to be the best watchdog in Africa, and yet a woman comes into this house under your nose and in the grey of the morning, and you do not see her. Where is your reputation, Hans?” The old fellow grew almost speechless with indignation, then he spluttered his answer: