"
The miserable Hassan reflected, then he asked:
"Lord Quatermain" (I remember the title, because it is the nearest I
ever got, or am likely to get, to the peerage), "if I furnish you with
the twenty bearers and accompany you for some days on your journey
inland, will you promise not to signal to your countrymen on the ship
and bring them ashore?"
"What do you think?" I asked of Stephen.
"Oh!" he answered, "I think I'd agree. This scoundrel has had a pretty
good dusting, and if once the /Crocodile/ people land, there'll be an
end of our expedition. As sure as eggs are eggs they will carry us off
to Zanzibar or somewhere to give evidence before a slave court. Also
nothing will be gained, for by the time the sailors get here, all
these rascals will have bolted, except our friend, Hassan. You see it
isn't as though we were sure he would be hung. He'd probably escape
after all. International law, subject of a foreign Power, no direct
proof--that kind of thing, you know."
"Give me a minute or two," I said, and began to reflect very deeply.
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