answer, especially as it was well known that Umbelazi had cherished his
ambition to the succession long before he met Mameena. So that charge
was dropped, and the first and greatest of the three proceeded with;
namely, that it was she, Mameena, and not her husband, Masapo, who had
murdered Nandie's child.

When this accusation was made against her, for the first time I saw a
little shade of trouble flit across Mameena's soft eyes.

"Surely, O King," she said, "that matter was settled long ago, when the
Ndwande, Zikali, the great Nyanga, smelt out Masapo the wizard, he who
was my husband, and brought him to his death for this crime. Must I then
be tried for it again?"

"Not so, woman," answered Panda. "All that Zikali smelt out was the
poison that wrought the crime, and as some of that poison was found upon
Masapo, he was killed as a wizard. Yet it may be that it was not he who
used the poison."

"Then surely the King should have thought of that before he died,"
murmured Mameena. "But I forget: It is known that Masapo was always
hostile to the House of Senzangakona."

To this remark Panda made no answer, perhaps because it was
unanswerable, even in a land where it was customary to kill the supposed
wizard first and inquire as to his actual guilt afterwards, or not at
all. Or perhaps he thought it politic to ignore the suggestion that he
had been inspired by personal enmity. Only, he looked at his daughter,
Nandie, who rose and said:

"Have I leave to call a witness on this matter of the poison, my
Father?"

Panda nodded, whereon Nandie said to one of the councillors:

"Be pleased to summon my woman, Nahana, who waits without."

The man went, and presently returned with an elderly female who, it
appeared, had been Nandie's nurse, and, never having married, owing to
some physical defect, had always remained in her service, a person well
known and much respected in her humble walk of life.

"Nahana," said Nandie, "you are brought here that you may repeat to the
King and his council a tale which you told to me as to the coming of
a certain woman into my hut before the death of my first-born son, and
what she did there. Say first, is this woman present here?"

"Aye, Inkosazana," answered Nahana, "yonder she sits. Who could mistake
her?" and she pointed to Mameena, who was listening to every word
intently, as a dog listens at the mouth of an ant-bear hole when the
beast is stirring beneath.

"Then what of the