ch was scattered
inch-lengths of hair. Sergeant Schultz sheared deftly with clippers like a
reaper in a field of corn. When he had completed the final trimming behind
the ears, he stood aside with the air of an artist viewing his work.

"Is that pleasing to your Excellence?"

Zu Pfeiffer ran a hand around his skull.

"Ya, that is better and cooler, sergeant."

With a professional air Schultz whisked around the Kommandant's neck with
a light brush, untucked the towel and brushed him down. As zu Pfeiffer
rose Bakunjala appeared with a broom of small branches and a pan and
proceeded to sweep the earthen floor. Schultz neatly folded up the towel,
placed it on the chair, and stood at attention.

"Is that all, Excellence?"

"Ya, sergeant. Take a cigar."

"Thank you, Excellence!"

The sergeant selected one, saluted and departed. Zu Pfeiffer lounged in a
basket chair. The usual water bag and syphon were suspended at his elbow
above sparklet and brandy bottles, and a box of cigars. Around him on the
floor was a litter of papers, envelopes and documents. On his wrist
sparkled the jewelled bracelet and between fingers, one of which bore the
large diamond which had earned him his native name, was an official
document bearing the Imperial Eagles.

As he read he smiled and patted his left moustache approvingly. Officially
the authorities would not comply with his request made before leaving
Ingonya for two more companies of askaris with white non-commissioned
officers and two more guns; but unofficially he was informed that they
would be supplied later and that the authorities were pleased. He picked
up a private letter and re-read it. Then he smiled again, a sneering twist
remaining at the corner of the mouth. Always he was informed by
sympathetic friends and an agency of the whereabouts and doings of
Lucille. On the 1st of August she had been due at Wiesbaden.

He threw the letter on the table with an irritable gesture and scowled as
he drank. The arrival of the mail always brought vivid regrets for the
glories and comforts he was missing by being condemned to war with "dirty
swines of niggers." That was part of the penalty he had had to pay for
being a gentleman in a land of dollar grubbers, yet a matter to be written
up against the account of Lucille, the entzueckend Lucille. He must have
been verrueckt, he reflected savagely. The delicate lips softened in
ludicrous contrast to the brutal outline of a cropped skull. Th