within him. Such a suspicion made one pause--for out there there were no
external checks. Once when various tropical diseases had laid low almost
every 'agent' in the station, he was heard to say, 'Men who come out
here should have no entrails.' He sealed the utterance with that smile
of his, as though it had been a door opening into a darkness he had in
his keeping. You fancied you had seen things--but the seal was on. When
annoyed at meal-times by the constant quarrels of the white men about
precedence, he ordered an immense round table to be made, for which a
special house had to be built. This was the station's mess-room. Where
he sat was the first place--the rest were nowhere. One felt this to be
his unalterable conviction. He was neither civil nor uncivil. He was
quiet. He allowed his 'boy'--an overfed young negro from the coast--to
treat the white men, under his very eyes, with provoking insolence.

"He began to speak as soon as he saw me. I had been very long on the
road. He could not wait. Had to start without me. The up-river stations
had to be relieved. There had been so many delays already that he did
not know who was dead and who was alive, and how they got on--and so on,
and so on. He paid no attention to my explanations, and, playing with
a stick of sealing-wax, repeated several times that the situation was
'very grave, very grave.' There were rumours that a very important
station was in jeopardy, and its chief, Mr. Kurtz, was ill. Hoped it was
not true. Mr. Kurtz was . . . I felt weary and irritable. Hang Kurtz,
I thought. I interrupted him by saying I had heard of Mr. Kurtz on the
coast. 'Ah! So they talk of him down there,' he murmured to himself.
Then he began again, assuring me Mr. Kurtz was the best agent he had, an
exceptional man, of the greatest importance to the Company; therefore
I could understand his anxiety. He was, he said, 'very, very uneasy.'
Certainly he fidgeted on his chair a good deal, exclaimed, 'Ah, Mr.
Kurtz!' broke the stick of sealing-wax and seemed dumfounded by the