There had been a click and the dance music suddenly ceased. “Hullo… Hullo.” She rattled the machine but there was no answer. “I’m convinced he did it on purpose,” she told Miss Tin. “If we could only prove it.”
Then there was trouble about her money. The twenty or so pounds which she had changed into Bank of Azania currency on her first afternoon seemed to be quite worthless. Even Mr. Youkoumian, from whom she had first received them, was unable to help, remarking that it was a question of politics; he could not accept the notes himself in settlement of the weekly hotel bill or in payment for the numerous articles of clothing which Miss Tin was obliged to purchase from day to day at his store.
Then there was the Emperor’s prolonged neglect of the cause of animals. The banquet so far from being the prelude to more practical association, seemed to be regarded as the end of her visit. Her daily attempts to obtain an audience were met with consistent refusal. At times she fell into a fever of frustration; there, all over the country, were dumb chums being mercilessly snared and speared, and here was she, impotent to help them; throughout those restless Azanian nights Dame Mildred was continually haunted by the appealing reproachful eyes, limpid as spaniel puppies’, of murdered lions, and the pathetic patient whinnying of trapped baboons. Consciousness of guilt subdued her usually confident manner; who was she to complain—betrayer that she was of mandril, hyena, and wild pig, wart hog and porcupine—if Mr. Youkoumian over-charged her bill or mislaid her laundry?
“Mildred, I don’t think you’re looking at all well. I don’t believe this place agrees with you.”
“No, Sarah, I’m not sure that it does. Oh, do let’s go away. I don’t like the people or the way they look or anything and we aren’t doing any good.”
“Basil, Mum wants me to go home—back to England, I mean.”
“I shan’t like that.”
“Do you mean it? Oh, lovely Basil, I don’t want to go a bit.”
“We may all have to go soon. Things seem breaking up here… only I’m not so sure about going to England…. Can’t we go somewhere else?”
“Darling, what’s the good of talking… we’ll see each other again, whatever happens. You do promise that, don’t you?”
“You’re a grand girl, Prudence, and I’d like to cat you.”
“So you shall, my sweet… any thing you want.”
Strips of sunlight through the shutters; below in the yard a native boy hammering at the engine of a broken motor car.
“I am sending
“What is the feeling in the army, General?”
“I called a meeting of the Staff to-day and told them of Prince Achon’s arrival in Debra-Dowa. They know what is expected of them. Yesterday their salaries were paid in the new notes.”
“And the Prince, your Beatitude?”
“He is no worse.”
“But content?”
“Who can say? He has been sleeping most of the day. He does not speak. He is all the time searching for something on the floor, near his foot. I think he misses his chain. He eats well.”
“Mr. Seal, I think I go down to Matodi day after tomorrow. Got things to fix there, see? How about you come too?”
“No good this week, Youkoumian. I shall have to wait and see poor Seth’s gala.”
“Mr. Seal, you take my tip and come to Matodi. I hear things. You don’t want to get into no bust-up.”
“I’ve been hearing things too. I want to stay and see the racket.”
“Damn foolishness.”
It was not often that the Oriental Secretary called on the Minister. He came that evening after dinner. They were playing animal-snap.
“Come in, Walsh. Nice to see you. You can settle a dispute for us. Prudence insists that a giraffe neighs like a horse. Now does it?”
Later he got the Minister alone.
“Look here, sir, I don’t know how closely you’ve followed local affairs, but I thought I ought to come and tell you. There’s likely to be trouble on Tues-day on the day of this birth control gala.”
“Trouble? I should think so. I think the whole thing perfectly disgusting. None of us are going.”
“Well, I don’t exactly know what sort of trouble. But there’s something up. I’ve just heard this evening that the French and Americans are going down to the coast en bloc by the Monday train. I thought you ought to know.”
“Pooh, another of these native disturbances. I remember that last civil war was just the same. Ballon thought he was going to be attacked the whole time. I’d sooner risk being bombed up here than bitten by mosquitoes at the coast. Still, jolly nice of you to tell me.”
“You wouldn’t mind, sir, if my wife and myself went down on the train.”
“Not a bit, not a bit. Jolly glad. You can take charge of the bags. Can’t say I envy you but I hope you have a jolly trip.”
