Barsac replies.

"Then why did you go off in quite a different direction? What were you going to do at Koubo?"

Harry Killer accompanies this question with a piercing look, while we exchange embarrassed glances. The question is certainly troublesome, as we have agreed not to mention Miss Blazon's real name. Fortunately M. Barsac finds a plausible reply, "As our escort deserted us," he says, "we were making for Timbuctoo."

"Why not for Sikasso? That's not so far."

"We simply thought it best to make for Timbuctoo."

"H'm," grunts Harry Killer doubtfully, then after a brief silence he continues: "Then you didn't mean to go eastwards to the Niger?"

"No," M. Barsac assures him.

"If I could have guessed that," Harry Killer informs us, "you wouldn't be here now."

What a joke! As if he'd taken the trouble to ask us!

Profiting by the silence following this preposterous remark, I take up the conversation. I (I who write this) am a very logical person. Anything which isn't reasonable shocks me, like an untidy cupboard. And in this record there's one point which intrigues me. So I put in my spoke:

"Excuse me, dear Sir," I say, with exquisite courtesy, "I'd like to know why you took the trouble to fetch us here, instead of simply wiping us out. Your Captain Edward Rufus and his men had the whip hand of us for we'd no reason to mistrust them. Surely it would have been the best way of getting rid of us."

Hany Killer knitted his brows and looked at me disdainfully. Who was this pigmy who dared address him? All the same, he deigns to reply: "So as to avoid an investigation by the French authorities. They would certainly have been perturbed if one of their Missions had been wiped out."

I'm partly satisfied. Not quite, however. I raise an objection: "I should think it would have the same effect if we vanished."

"Of course," admits Harry Killer, who for once is showing sound common sense. "So I'd have preferred to see you abandon your journey. It's only your obstinacy which made me bring you here."

He's offered me a chance, which I seize at once. "Then we can arrange everything," I suggest. "You understand now that we don't at all want to go to the Niger, so you've only got to put us back where you found us, and then there won't be any question. ..."

"So that you can go and spread abroad what you've found out? So that you can reveal the existence of this town that nobody has ever heard of?" Harry Killer breaks in violently. "No, it's too late. Nobody who enters Blackland will ever leave it."

But he can wear his throat out as much as he likes. I'm getting used to his storming. I pay no attention to that, and I insist: "But an enquiry will be held?"

"Very likely," Harry Killer replies, his barometer needle now having returned to set fair. "But my position will be better. If I am found out, and if I have to fight, at any rate I shall have something better than your dead bodies."

"What's that?"

"Hostages."

He's in a strong position, this potentate. He's quite right. But I was right, too, to interview him, because his replies show he's no intention of putting us to death on the spot. That's always good to know.

Harry Killer has resumed his seat in his armchair behind the table. He's a disconcerting fellow.