I don't follow this.

Harry Killer jumps up. Especially addressing M. Barsac, who still looks very firm, he continues in furious tones and hammering the table with his gigantic fist: "Yes, yes, I know well enough that your countrymen have reached Timbuctoo and keep working their way up the Niger, but they'd better stop. If they don't. . . . And now they've got the impudence, to send spies to the river by land! . . . I'll smash them, your spies, just as I smash this glass!"

And, adding gesture to speech, Harry Killer does in fact smash his glass, which shatters to pieces on the floor.

"Another glass!" he howls, turning towards the door.

Carried away by incredible fury, literally maddened with rage, for a little foam oozes from the comers of his lips, he is not good to look at now. His projecting lower jaw makes him resemble a wild beast with his purple face and his bloodshot eyes. 

One of the Black Guard has hastened to obey him. Without troubling about him, the man, as though he were possessed, leaning on the table which his hands are beating violently, turns towards the unmoved M. Barsac, fixes him with his eyes and shouts:

"And didn't I give you enough warning? . . . That yarn about the doung-kono, which I'd thought up for your benefit, that was the first hint It was I who placed in your path that fortune teller and it's your own fault his warning's been fulfilled. It was I who sent you your guide, my slave Morilire, to make a last effort to stop you at Sikasso. But it was all in vain. In vain I took away your escort, in vain I starved you out, nothing would suit you but to push on the Niger . . . Well, you've reached the Niger, you've even crossed the Niger, and you've found out what you wanted to know. . . . And much you've got for it! Now how are you going to tell this to your paymasters?"

In the grip of this boundless fury, Harry Killer is parading up and down. To my mind there's no doubt about it, he's mad. Suddenly he stops, his mind seized by an unexpected idea: "But, as a matter of fact," he asks M. Barsac, with surprising calm, "weren't you really aiming for Saye?"

"Yes," M.