United States or Zimbabwe ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"In short," he said, "do you really suspect that it was M'kombo whose shadow you saw upon the lawn, who a month ago made a midnight entrance into Cray's Folly, and who recently pinned a bat wing to the door?" Colonel Menendez seemed somewhat taken aback by this direct question. "I cannot believe it," he confessed.
"The real cause of her death was never known, but I obtained evidence to show that on the night after the wing of a bat had been attached to her hut, she wandered out in her sleep and visited the Black Belt. Can you doubt that someone was calling her?" "Calling her?" "Mr. Harley, she was obeying the call of M'kombo!" "The call of M'kombo? You refer to some kind of hypnotic suggestions?"
He had reached the path which led to the sun-dial, and with short, queer, ataxic steps was proceeding in its direction, a striking figure in the brilliant moonlight which touched his gray hair with a silvery sheen. His unnatural, automatic movements told their own story. He was walking in his sleep! Could it be in obedience to the call of M'kombo? My throat grew dry and I knew not how to act.
"I, myself, am fifty-two, and I should say that M'kombo if alive to-day would be nearer to seventy than sixty." "Ah," murmured Harley, "and did he speak English?" "A few words, I believe." Paul Harley fixed his gaze upon the dark, aquiline face.
"I recall it very well," replied the Colonel. "His name was M'kombo, and he was a Benin negro." "Assuming that he is still alive, what, roughly, would his age be to- day?" The Colonel seemed to meditate, pushing a box of long Martinique cigars across the table in my direction. "He would be an old man," he pronounced.
Word Of The Day