THE DICTATOR OF GRAND BASSA 245

their chairs carried by boys. I began to ask the Para-
mount Chief to sell me rice for my men. Thin, vital,
Bourbon-nosed, he seemed to pay no attention what-
ever. He strode away to say something to the clan
chiefs, then strode back and said I could have rice at
four shillings a hamper. I said that was too- much,
but he was gone again. His mind was full of state
affairs, he hardly had time to bring the price down
to three shillings, and before I could propose half a
crown, he was off to the palaver-house. Then a bugle
blew and Colonel Davis, accompanied by the D.C.S,
walked across the compound to the council.

Even at a distance there was something attractive
about the dictator of Grand Bassa. He had
personality. He carried himself with a straight
military swagger, he was very well dressed in a
tropical suit with a silk handkerchief stuck in the
breast pocket. He had a small pointed beard and one
couldn't at that distance see the gold teeth which
rather weakened his mouth. He was like a young
black Captain Kettle and reminded me of Conrad's
Mr. J. K. Blunt who used to declare with proud sim-
plicity in the Marseilles cafes, "I live by my sword/'
He had noted our arrival and presently the seedy
Commissioner appeared to say that the President's
special agent wished to see our papers.

It was the first time in Liberia that our passports
had been examined. The absconding financier whom
I have imagined settling in the unpoliced hinterland
of Liberia, taking his holidays at will in French
Guinea, a good enough substitute for Le Touquet
without any tiresome bother about papers, would do
well to avoid Tapee-Ta. For there is a prison in the