boat and taking some
baggage or provisions out of her, Leonard could not see which. Then
Xavier and the sentry went up the steps together, followed by the two
boatmen, and the gates were shut behind them.

"Well," whispered Leonard, "we have learnt something at any rate.
Now, Otter, I am Pierre the French slave-trader from Madagascar,
and, understand, you are my servant; as for Soa, she is the guide, or
interpreter, or anyone you like. We must pass the gates, but the real
Pierre must never pass them. There must be no sentry to let him in. Do
you think that you can manage it, Otter, or must I?"

"It comes into my head, Baas, that we may learn a lesson from this
Xavier. I might forget something in the canoe, and the sentry might help
me to find it after you have passed the gates. For the rest I am quick
and strong and silent."

"Quick and strong and silent you must be. A noise, and all is lost."

Then they crept to the canoe which they had selected and loosened her.
They embarked and Otter took the paddle. First he let her float gently
down stream and under cover of the shore for a distance of about fifty
yards. Then he put about and the play began.

"Now, you fool, where are you paddling to?" said Leonard in a loud voice
to Otter, speaking in the bastard Arabic which passes current for a
language on this coast. "You will have us into the bank, I tell you.
Curse this wind and the darkness! Steady now, you ugly black dog; those
must be the gates the letter told of--are they not, woman? Hold on with
the boat-hook, can't you?"

A wicket at the gate above rattled and the voice of the sentry
challenged them.

"A friend--a friend!" answered Leonard in Portuguese; "one who is a
stranger and would pay his respects to your leader, Dom Antonio Pereira,
with a view to business."

"What is your name?" asked the guard suspiciously.

"Pierre is my name. Dog is the name of the dwarf my servant, and as for
the old woman, you can call her anything you like."

"The password," said the sentry; "none come in here without the word."

"The word--Ah! what did the Dom Xavier say it was in his letter?
'Fiend!' No, I have it, 'Devil' is the word."

"Where do you hail from?"

"From Madagascar, where the goods you have to supply are in some demand
just now. Come, let us in; we don't want to sit here all night and miss
the fun."

The man began to unbar the door, and stopped, struck by a fresh doubt.

"You are not of our people," he