'
'Don't you see the cleverness of it?' I said. 'You were too
interested in other things to have any eyes. You took Lord Alloa for
granted. If it had been anybody else you might have looked more
closely, but it was natural for him to be here, and that put you all
to sleep.'
Then the Frenchman spoke, very slowly and in good English.
'The young man is right. His psychology is good. Our enemies
have not been foolish!'
He bent his wise brows on the assembly.
'I will tell you a tale,' he said. 'It happened many years ago in
Senegal. I was quartered in a remote station, and to pass the time
used to go fishing for big barbel in the river. A little Arab mare
used to carry my luncheon basket--one of the salted dun breed you
got at Timbuctoo in the old days. Well, one morning I had good
sport, and the mare was unaccountably restless. I could hear her
whinnying and squealing and stamping her feet, and I kept soothing
her with my voice while my mind was intent on fish. I could see
her all the time, as I thought, out of a corner of my eye, tethered
to a tree twenty yards away. After a couple of hours I began to
think of food. I collected my fish in a tarpaulin bag, and moved
down the stream towards the mare, trolling my line. When I got up
to her I flung the tarpaulin on her back--'
He paused and looked round.
'It was the smell that gave me warning.
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