d, "go summon the lady Heddana and the
Inkosi Mauriti. Bid them come swiftly if they would see the
doctoress Nombe before she dies."

The man leapt off like a buck, and within a few minutes I saw
Heda and Anscombe running towards us, half dressed, and went to
meet them.

"What is it?" she gasped.

"I have only time to tell you this," I answered. "Nombe is
dying. She gave her life to save you, how I will explain
afterwards. The assegai that pierced her was meant for your
heart. Go, thank her, and bid her farewell. Anscombe, stop back
with me."

We stood still and watched from a little distance. Heda knelt
down and put her arms about Nombe. They whispered together into
each other's ears. Then they kissed.

It was at this moment that Zikali appeared, leaning on two of his
servants. By some occult art or instinct he seemed to know all
that had happened, and oh! he looked terrible. He crouched down
in front of the dying woman and, toadlike, spat his venom at her.

"You lost your Spirit, did you?" he said. "Well, it came back to
me laden with the black honey of your treachery, to me, its home,
as a bee comes to its hive. It has told me everything, and well
for you, Witch, it is that you are dying. But think not that you
shall escape me there in the world below, for thither I will
follow you. Curses on you, traitress, who would have betrayed me
and brought all my plans to naught. Ow! in a day to come I will
pay you back a full harvest for this seed of shame that you have
sown."

She opened her eyes and looked at him, then answered quite
softly--

"I think your chain is broken, O Zikali, no more my master. I
think that love has cut your chain in two and I fear you never
more. Keep the spirit you lent to me; it is yours, but the rest
of me is my own, and in the house of my heart another comes to
dwell."

Then once more she stretched out her arms towards Heda and
murmuring, "Sister, forget me not, Sister, who will await you for
a thousand years," she passed away.

It was a good ending to a bad business, and I confess I felt glad
when it was finished. Only afterwards I regretted very much that
I had not found an opportunity to ask her whether or no she had
masqueraded as Mameena in the Valley of Bones. Now it is too
late.

We buried poor Nombe decently in her own little hut where she
used to practise her incantations. Zikali and his people wished
apparently to throw her to the vultures f