Free Shadows of Ecstasy by Charles Williams Page B

go,” Sir Bernard said. “The streets aren’t too quiet. I’m not at all sure, Mr. Inkamasi, that you wouldn’t be wise to take advantage of the Government’s offer to remove friendly aliens. If you’re living alone——”
    The African dilated where he stood. “I will go alone,” he said. “They will not attack me twice.”
    â€œNo, of course not,” Roger said. “Never attack the same man twice is a well-known rule of mobs. Nonsense, man, no one knows who’s about. I think you ought to stop here; you can, you know. We told you that before.”
    â€œDo,” Isabel put in.
    Inkamasi seemed to hesitate, then he said rather vaguely, “No, I’m sorry, I must go. There are reasons.…”
    â€œAre they really vicious, Roger?” Sir Bernard asked.
    â€œNasty little things,” Roger answered. “The usual kind. I believe they’d have bolted before if Inkamasi and I had rushed them. He nearly scattered them by himself but there were just enough to feel safe.”
    â€œI know them,” the African said disdainfully. “There are others like them in my country—they would run from a lion.”
    â€œAs bad as that, are they?” Roger asked gravely. “Good heavens, many’s the time I’ve chased a lion or two down Haverstock Hill by just shouting at them. Like you were doing when we came out. By the way, what were you shouting?”
    The African drew himself up and his magnificent form seemed to expand before the young man’s eyes. He cried out: “They asked me my name and I told them. I am Inkamasi of the Zulus, I am the chief of the sons of Chaka, I am the master of the impis, I am Inkamasi the chieftain and the king.”
    There was a dead silence; and then suddenly Roger, almost as if some challenge in the other’s voice had stirred him to motion and speech, answered in the voice he had for verse. He threw up his right arm; he cried out, “Bayate!”; he held the Zulu rigid by the unexpected salute. And then someone else moved, and Roger dropped his arm and grinned and said: “Rider Haggard. But it’s true, isn’t it?”
    â€œIt is true,” the king said. “It is the royal salute that you give, though I’ve only heard it once or twice in my life before. But I thought in England you’d forgotten royalty.”
    â€œWell, in a kind of way we have,” Roger said. “And then again in a kind of way we haven’t. And anyhow I didn’t know you really kept it in Africa.”
    â€œThere are those among you who would like us to forget,” the Zulu answered. “But it isn’t easy to forget Chaka. Have you forgotten Cæsar?”
    He seemed to expect no answer; he turned again to Isabel, but this time with a greater air. “Good-night, Mrs. Ingram,” he said. “Your husband will be back soon. They shan’t come far. Good-night, Miss Murchison. Sir Bernard, will you tell me one thing I have always meant to look up about the stomach?”
    Isabel came back from the front door to Rosamond with a bewildered air. “Tell me,” she said, “are those three taking care of him or is he taking care of them?”
    â€œI think it’s perfectly horrible,” Rosamond said. “How could you let him come into the house, Isabel?—everything smells of him. The king, indeed! It’s almost profane.”
    Isabel raised her eyebrows. “What, calling himself a king?” she asked.
    â€œIt was the way he talked, looking like a god,” Rosamond said, almost hysterically. “I hate him to look like that.”
    Isabel looked at the coffee cups. “Shall I clear them away?” she said, “or shall I leave them for Muriel? Roger won’t call her Muriel, he says it makes him feel unclean. So awkward, because he always has to go and find her if he happens to want anything. He can’t just