We counted eighteen right hands smoked, and from the size of the hands we could judge that they belonged to men, women, and children. We could not understand why these hands had been collected, as the Commissary had given orders that no more natives were to be killed for their hands. On my last journey I discovered the secret. One Monday night, a sentinel who had just returned from the Commissary, said to me: 'What are the sentinels to do? When all the people are gathered together, the Commissary openly tells us not to kill anymore people, but when the people have gone he tells us privately that if they do not bring plenty of india-rubber we must kill some, but not bring the hands to him.' Some sentinels, he told me, had been put in chains because they killed some natives who happened to be near a mission station; but it was only because he thought it might become known that the Commissary, to justify himself, had put the men in chains. I said to the sentinel: 'You should obey the first command, never to kill any more.' 'The people,' he answered, 'unless they are frightened, do not bring in the rubber, and then the Commissary flogs us with the hippopotamus hide, or else he puts us in chains, or sends us to Boma.' The sentinel added that the Commissary induced him to hide cruelty while letting it go on, and to do this in such a way that he might be justified, in case it should become known and an investigation should be made. In such a case the Commissary could say, 'Why, I told him openly not to kill any more,' and he might put the blame on the soldier to justify himself, though the blame and the punishment in all its force ought to have been put on himself, after he had done such a terrible act in order to disguise or mislead justice. If the sentinels were puzzled about this message, what would the natives be?"

I have said that there was more to be said for the cannibal murderers than for those who worked the system. The Capitas pleaded the same excuse. "Don't take this to heart so much," said one of them to the missionary. "They kill us if we do not bring rubber. The Commissary has promised us if we bring plenty of hands he will shorten our service. I have brought plenty already, and I expect my time will soon be finished."

That the Commissaries are steeped to the lips in this horrible business has been amply shown in these paragraphs. But Mr. Sjoblom was able to go one stage further along the line which leads to the Palace at Brussels. M. Wahis, the Governor-General, a man who has played a sinister part in the country, came up the river and endeavoured to get the outspoken Swede to contradict himself, or, failing that, to intimidate him. To get at the truth or to right the wrong seems to have been the last thing in his mind, for he knew well that the wrong was essential to the system, and that without it the wheels would move more slowly and the head engineer in Europe would soon wish to know what was amiss with his rubber-producing machine. "You may have seen all these things that you have stated," said he, "but nothing is proved." The Commissary meanwhile had been holding a rifle to the head of witnesses so as to make sure that nothing would be proved. In spite of this Mr. Sjoblom managed to collect his evidence, and going to the Governor, asked him when he could listen to it. "I don't want to hear any witnesses," said he, and then: "If you continue to demand investigation in these matters we will make a charge against you.... That means five years' imprisonment."

Such is Mr. Sjoblom's narrative involving Governor Wahis in the general infamy. "It is not true," cries the Congolese apologist. Strange how Swedes, Americans, and British, laymen and clergy, all unite in defaming this innocent State! No doubt the wicked children lop off their own hands in order to cast a slur upon "the benevolent and philanthropic enterprise of the Congo." Tartuffe and Jack the Ripper -- was ever such a combination in the history of the world!

One more anecdote of Mr. Wahis, for it is not often that we can get a Governor of the Congo in person face to face with the results of his own work. As he passed down the river, Mr. Sjoblom was able to report another outrage to him:

"Mr. Banks told the Governor that he had seen it himself whereupon M. Wahis summoned the commandant in charge -- the officer who had ordered the raid had already gone elsewhere -- and asked him in French if the story were true.