long way up a great river, then turn to the left and walk six days through big forest where dwarf people shoot you with poisoned arrow.  Then turn to the right, walk up stream where many wild beasts.  Then turn to the left again and go in canoe through swamp where you die of fever, and across lake.  Then walk over grassland and mountains.  Then in kloof of the mountains where big black trees make a roof and river fall like thunder, find Asiki and gold house of the Yellow God.  All that mountain gold, full of gold and beneath gold house Yellow God afloat in water.  She what you call Queen, priestess, live there also, always there, very beautiful woman called Asika with face like Yellow God, cruel, cruel.  She take a husband every year, and every year he die because she always hunt for right man but never find him.”

“Does she kill him then?” asked Barbara.

“Oh! no, she no kill him, Miss, he kill himself at end of year, glad to get away from Asika and go to spirits.  While he live he have a very good time, plenty to eat, plenty wives, fine house, much gold as he like, only nothing to spend it on, pretty necklace, nice paint for face.  But Asika, little bit by little bit she eat up his spirit.  He see too many ghosts.  The house where he sleep with dead men who once have his billet, full of ghosts and every night there come more and sit with him, sit all round him, look at him with great eyes, just like you look at me, till at last when Asika finish eating up his spirit, he go crazy, he howl like man in hell, he throw away all the gold they give him, and then, sometimes after one week, sometimes after one month, sometimes after one year if he be strong but never more, he run out at night and jump into canal where Yellow God float and god get him, while Asika sit on the bank and laugh, ’cause she hungry for new man to eat up his spirit too.”

Jeekie’s big voice died away to a whisper and ceased.  There was a silence in the room, for even in the shine of the electric light and through the fumes of champagne, in more than one imagination there rose a vision of that haunted water in which floated the great Yellow God, and of some mad being casting himself to his death beneath the moon, while his beautiful witch wife who was “hungry for more spirits” sat upon its edge and laughed.  Although his language was now commonplace enough, even ludicrous at times, the negro had undoubtedly the art of narration.  His auditors felt that he spoke of what he knew, or had seen, that the very recollection of it frightened him, therefore he frightened them.

Again Barbara broke the silence which she felt to be awkward.

“Why do more ghosts come very night to sit with the queen’s husband, Jeekie?” she asked.  “Where do they come from?”