yet of the eating up of Eyes-in-the-hands. Hath not
the ear of the spirit of Tarum spoken upon these matters?" inquired
Bakahenzie in his favourite dialectical manner.

"The spirit of Tarum hath naught to say to thee," replied Birnier, "but
the fingers of Tarum will to make thee to itch even as his fingers."

Birnier called to Mungongo who brought and placed at his feet a fairly
powerful electric battery. Bakahenzie eyed the box; curiosity was keenly
awakened. He stared interestedly when Birnier raised the lid. Taking the
handles he said:

"These, O son of Maliko, are the hands of Tarum made manifest. He wishes
that thou shouldst feel the itch of his desire!" and with the words he
clapped one handle to the belly and the other at the base of the spine of
the chief witch-doctor. Bakahenzie convulsed as he was compelled to do.
Swiftly Birnier applied the shock to the shoulders, holding the handles
there as he remarked to a violently trembling Bakahenzie: "Behold! the
itch of the fingers of Tarum!"

But as he lowered his hands towards the spine again, Bakahenzie moved
rapidly and with no dignity.

Solemnly Birnier replaced the handles and closed the lid, and said
quietly:

"Thou hast felt, O brother magician, that the fingers of Tarum do itch
indeed?"

"Truly!" responded Bakahenzie with a celerity as unusual as the quaver in
his voice. "Indeed thy words are white, O mightiest of magicians. What are
indeed the evil eyes of savages against the power of thy magic, O son of
the Lord-of-many-Lands!"

And contrary to all precedent Bakahenzie rose and left. Within a quarter
of an hour his voice announced that slaves with the magic "things" were
without the palisade, and called upon Mungongo to go to the gate to fetch
them as strangers were forbidden even to look upon the King-God. Birnier,
by the light of a torch, opened the mail, sent a wad of letters and a
sheaf of telegraph slips on to the floor, and snatched a long green
envelope scrawled in French characters:

Monsieur le Curateur du Jardin des Plantes.

For a moment he stared at it perplexedly, for there was no stamp or
cancellation.

"What in the name----" he muttered as he slit it open.

Entebbe,
Aout 13, 19--

Mon petit loup, what have you been doing? Ou est tu? Comment et pourquoi?
Oh, I am cross with you, with Monsieur le Professeur! Why do yo