In his pocket was a quart bottle, and his clothes reeked with the scent of wild aniseed. As a matter of fact, his secret would have been out the moment he entered Sanders's dining-room, but it so happened that his programme was doomed to interruption. He was half-way across the square when a dark figure rose from the ground and a harsh voice grunted "Kill!" He saw the flash of the spear in the starlight and leapt aside. A hand clutched at his jacket, but he wrenched himself free, leaving the garment in his assailant's hands. He was unarmed, and there was nothing left but flight. Sanders heard his yell, and sprang out to the darkness of the verandah as Bones flew up the steps. He saw the two men racing in pursuit, and fired twice. One man fell, the other swerved and was lost in the shadows. An answering shot came from the Houssa sentry at the far end of the square. Sanders saw a man running, and fired again, and again missed. Then out of the darkness blundered Ali Abid, his face grey with fear. "Sir," he gasped, "wild animal (_Felis pardus_) has divested muzzlement and proper restraint, and is chasing various subjects outrageously." Even as he spoke a fourth figure sped across the ground before the Residency, so close that they could see the bundle he carried under his arm. "My jacket!" roared Bones. "Hi, stop him! Good Lord!" Swift on the heels of the flying man came a streak of yellow fur.... Whether O'ka of the Jumburu outpaced the leopard, or the leopard overtook O'ka, is not known, but until the rains came and washed away the scent of crude aniseed, Bones dared not leave his hut by night for fear of the strange beasts that came snuffling at his hut, or sat in expectant and watchful circles about his dwelling, howling dismally. CHAPTER IX THE MERCENARIES There was a large brown desk in Sanders's study, a desk the edges of which had been worn yellow with constant rubbing. It was a very tidy desk, with two rows of books neatly grouped on the left and on the right, and held in place by brass rails. There were three tiers of wire baskets, a great white blotting-pad, a silver inkstand and four clean-looking pens. Lately, there had appeared a glass vase filled with flowers which were daily renewed. Except on certain solemn occasions, none intruded into this holy of holies. It is true that a change had been brought about by the arrival of Patricia Hamilton, for she had been accorded permission to use the study as she wished, and she it was who had introduced the floral decorations. Yet, such was the tradition of sanctuary which enveloped the study, that neither Captain Hamilton, her brother, nor Bones, her slave, had ever ventured to intrude thither in search of her, and if by chance they came to the door to speak to her, they unaccountably lowered their voices. On a certain summer morning, Hamilton sat at the desk, a stern and sober figure, and Bones, perspiring and rattled, sat on the edge of a chair facing him.