"No. Whatever the wrong or deceit was, he did it, I'm sure o' that. I 'ad
to look at 'is face for five consecutive nights. I'm not so fond o'
navigatin' about Cape Town with a South-Easter blowin' these days. I can
hear those teeth click, so to say."
"Ah, those teeth," said Hooper, and his hand went to his waistcoat pocket
once more. "Permanent things false teeth are. You read about 'em in all
the murder trials."
"What d'you suppose the captain knew--or did?" I asked.
"I never turned my searchlight that way," Pyecroft answered unblushingly.
We all reflected together, and drummed on empty beer bottles as the
picnic-party, sunburned, wet, and sandy, passed our door singing "The
Honeysuckle and the Bee."
"Pretty girl under that kapje," said Pyecroft.
"They never circulated his description?" said Pritchard.
"I was askin' you before these gentlemen came," said Hooper to me,
"whether you knew Wankies--on the way to the Zambesi--beyond Buluwayo?"
"Would he pass there--tryin' to get to that Lake what's 'is name?" said
Pritchard.
Hooper shook his head and went on: "There's a curious bit o' line there,
you see. It runs through solid teak forest--a sort o' mahogany really--
seventy-two miles without a curve. I've had a train derailed there twenty-
three times in forty miles. I was up there a month ago relievin' a sick
inspector, you see. He told me to look out for a couple of tramps in the
teak.
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