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Maartin was looking at this thing when he painted it. You can see the big shadows underneath. No living creature could have imagined this or painted it from hearsay. He had to see it. And he did see it. I wasn't thinking about this, Godfrey.
Gad! what a splash he'd have made! But he never had any luck, the beggar... stopped a German bullet in the first week out. "Now, how the devil, Bramwell, do you suppose that water color got into a native medicine house?" The reflective voice replied slowly. "I've thought about the thing, Sir Godfrey. It must have been the work of the Holland explorer, Maartin.
"How it got into the hands of a native devil doctor is not difficult to imagine. The sleeping sickness may have wiped Maartin out, or the natives may have rushed his camp some morning, or he may have been mauled by a beast. Any article of a white man is medicine stuff you know. When you first showed me the thing I was puzzled.
I was thinking the Dutch government might help a bit in the hope of finding some trace of Maartin and I should wish to examine any information they might have about him." "Damn the Dutch government!" cried the little man. "And damn Lloyd's. We will go it on our own hook." The biologist smiled. "Let me think about it, a little," he said.
I knew what it was because I had read Le Petit's pretension... I can't call it a pretension now; the things are there whether he saw them or not. "I think he did not see them. But it is certain from this water color that some one did; and Maartin is the only explorer that could have done such a color. As soon as I thought of Maartin I knew the thing could have been done by no other."
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