fo JOURNEY WITHOUT MAPS

fawn trousers, with an ivory-headed stick, a round
white topee, a long cigarette-holder in the corner of
his mouth. It was a formal courtesy, but he wasn't
interested in anyone; he was only interested in learn-
ing what he wanted to know, and he could tell at
once that from us he could learn nothing at all. We
asked him questions and he retired more than ever
into his reserve of secrecy. Had he ever been to
Africa before he came out to the Republic two years
ago? No, never. Hadn't he found things difficult?
No, he said with a tiny smile, it had all been very
simple. Would one have trouble with the Customs
at the frontier? Well, of course, it was possible; he
himself had no trouble, but they knew him. Should
one bribe them? That was one of the questions he
didn't answer, putting it aside, smiling gently, tipping
the ash off his cigarette on to the beaten earth of the
floor. The cockchafers buzzed in and out and he
sat with lowered head, smoking. No, he wouldn't
have another biscuit. Only after a time he exerted
himself to give one piece of information; teaching
tired him as much as learning invigorated him. It
would be as well, he said, while we were at the Holy
Cross to visit the Liberian Commissioner at Kolahun.
The Commissioner was a scoundrel; he could make
things very unpleasant; besides, it was necessary to
take out a permit of residence before one had been in
the Republic a week. -Then he walked briskly away,
twirling his ivory-headed stick, his topee sloped at a
smart angle, looking around, learning things. One
day (it took a week to discover so much) he was
going to write a thesis for Berlin University (he came
from Hamburg, but Dr. Westermann was at Berlin