Here he is now, perfectly calm and fully in control of himself.

"Let's make ourselves clear," he says, in icy tones which are new to us. "You are in Blackland, and you're not going out again, not one of you. As to the sort of life you lead, that will be what you make it. I'm not responsible to anyone. I can keep you in prison or wipe you out, if I want to, just as I can let you have the same freedom I enjoy myself, within the limits of my empire."

That word again. He disfigures it.

"That will depend on you," he continues, addressing himself first and foremost to M. Barsac, whom he certainly regards as our leader. "You can either be my hostages or.. .."

He strikes an attitude. M. Barsac looks at him with an astonishment which I share. What else can we be, then?

"Or my collaborators," Harry Killer ends coldly. To say that this proposal surprises us would be an understatement. We are absolutely thunderstruck.

However, he goes on just as coldly: "You mustn't think I'm under any illusion about the progress of the French Forces. If they don't yet know about my existence, they'll learn of it very forcibly some day. Then I'll have either to fight or to bargain. Don't think I'm afraid to fight. I'm quite able to defend myself. But war isn't the only possible solution. To colonize the Niger Bend will keep France busy for a long while. What good would it do them to risk a defeat simply to push on further eastwards in spite of me across an ocean of sand which I'm converting into fertile fields? Properly conducted, our negotiations might end in an alliance."

He takes a lot for granted, this fellow! He's oozing vanity from every pore. Can anyone see the French Republic entering into an alliance with this loathsome tyranny?

"With you?" the amazed exclamation of M. Barsac expresses the thought of us all.

It takes no more than this to unchain the tempest. Indeed, the calm has already lasted too long. It was beginning to get monotonous.

"Perhaps you don't think I'm worth it?" roars Harry Killer, his eyes blazing, as he hammers anew on his unoffending table. "Or perhaps you're hoping to escape? That's because you don't realize my power."

He gets up, and adds in threatening tones: "You'll know better soon!"

The guards enter at his call. They grab hold of us, they drag us off. We go up endless stairways, then they make us promenade along a great terrace, followed by more staircases. We emerge at last on the platform of a tower, where Harry Killer is not slow to join us.

The man fluctuates like a wave. No half-measures with him.