or something of that sort--delivered them to a German paramour--von
Duvitz was his name, I think. She and her brother were lucky to keep
out of jail. Ever since then she has been--some say a spy, some say
one thing, some another. My brother fell foul of her, and lived to
regret it. She's on her last legs I don't doubt, or she wouldn't be in
Zanzibar."

"Then why the obvious nervous sweat you're in?" demanded Fred.

"And that doesn't account for the abuse she handed out to us," said
Yerkes.

"Why not tip off the authorities that she's a notorious spy?" I asked.

"I suspect they know all about her," he answered.

"But why your alarm?" insisted Fred.

"I'm scarcely alarmed, old thing. But it's pretty obvious, isn't it,
that she wants us to believe she knows what we're after. She's
vindictive. She imagines she owes me a grudge on my brother's account.
It might soothe her to think she had made me nervous. And by gad--it
sounds like lunacy, and mind you I'm not propounding it for
fact!--there's just one chance that she really does know where the
ivory is!"

"But where's the sense of abusing us?" repeated Yerkes.

"That's the poor thing's way of claiming class superiority," said
Monty. "She was born into one class, married into another, and divorced