his goods; for that
reason had he given permission to the corporal to take Birnier's
equipment, so that he would not even be contaminated by the possession of
them, a temperamental error again which had led to Birnier's escape.

The driving power in his caste and tribe was love of power to an excess
masked with portentous solemnity under the cloak of benefiting this people
and the peoples of the world; forcing them to have broad streets and
sanitary arrangements, compelling them to laugh, to sing, and to be happy
whether they would or no: an urge which is the curse of the world, the
impulse to interfere in other folk's affairs, to teach them, to make them
to know the true God, the right way of living, the right way of doing
everything from the rising of the first sun of consciousness to that happy
crack of doom when our planet tries to enforce its orbit upon some other
planet.

Zu Pfeiffer pinched a cigar tip, lighted it meticulously and considered
the roster.

"Sergeant, this man--what's the animal's name? Kalomato--has his son
surrendered himself?"

"No, Excellence. The man says that he has fled the country."

"Where does he come from?"

"The neighbourhood, Excellence."

"That means that his son is with the rebels?"

"Probably not, Excellence. He is very young, they say."

"That does not matter. Sequester all the chief's property. If he won't
give it up let the askaris deal with him. If that doesn't work, have him
shot."

"Excellence!"

For such obstinate cases zu Pfeiffer had fallen upon the custom of serving
two purposes by handing over the victim to the mercies of his askaris
which whetted their sadistic appetites and usually secured the desired
revelation of the whereabouts of the hidden ivory or other goods under the
torture of the burning feet, and divers other ingenious methods. Of late
this practice had proved so satisfactory that the mere threat was usually
sufficient.

"This man," continued zu Pfeiffer tapping the roster with his long nail,
"his son is here?"

"Ja, Excellence."

"Has he paid the tithe due?"

"No, Excellence. He refuses."

"Have the son shot."

"Excellence!"

"Any report this morning?"

"Ja, Excellence. A Wamungo spy brings news that a white man entered the
country from the south."

"Description?"

"They say he is a trader, Excellence, coming from the Kivu direction, but
the savage cannot give any satisfactory description. It is the first white
he has seen, he