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By Root 2795 0

study of the types, resulting in an entire classification system, as: The agony. The appetite. The obstinate. The immune elephant. The shrewd pig. The fateful hysterical. The death-accepting. The phallic-proud or hollow genital. The fast asleep. The narcissus intoxicated. The mad laughers. The pedantics. The fighting Lazaruses. Oh, Henderson-Sungo, how many shapes and forms! Numberless!" "I see. This is quite a subject." "Oh, yes, indeed. I have devoted years, and observed all the way from Lamu to Istanbul and Athens." "A big chunk of the world," I said. "So tell me, what do I illustrate most?" "Why," he said, "everything about you, Henderson-Sungo, cries out, 'Salvation, salvation! What shall I do? What must I do? At once! What will become of me?' And so on. That is bad." At this moment I could not have concealed how astonished I was even if I had taken a Ph. D. degree in concealment, and I mused, "Yes. This was what Willatale was beginning to tell me, I guess. Grun-tu-molani was just a starter." "I know that Arnewi expression," said the king. "Yes, I have been there, too, with Itelo. I understand what this grun-tu-molani implies. Indeed I do. And I know the lady also, a great success, a human gem, a triumph of the type--I refer to my system of classification. Granted, grun-tu-molani is much, but it is not alone sufficient. Mr. Henderson, more is required. I can show you something now--something without which you will never understand thoroughly my special aim nor my point of view. Will you come with me?" "Where to?" "I cannot say. You must trust me." "Well, sure. Okay. I guess �" My consent was all he wanted and he rose, and Tatu, who had been sitting by the wall with the garrison cap over her eyes, got up too.

XVI

From this small room the door opened into a long gallery screened with thatch. Tatu, the amazon, let us out and then followed us. The king was already far ahead of me down this private gallery of his. I tried to keep up with him, and the necessity of walking faster made me feel how yesterday's cuts had crippled my feet. So I hobbled and shambled while Tatu in her sturdy military stride came behind me. She had bolted the door of the small room from outside so that nobody could follow, and after we had crossed the gallery, which was about fifty feet long, she lifted another heavy wood bolt from the door at that end. This must have weighed like iron, for her knees sank, but the old woman had a powerful build and knew her job. The king went through, and I saw a staircase descending. It was wide enough, but dark--black ahead. A corrupt moldering smell rose from this darkness, which made me choke a little. But the king went right through into the moldering darkness and I thought, "What this calls for is a miner's lamp or a cage of canaries," trying to josh the fears out of my heart. "But okay," I thought, "if I've got to go, down I go. One, two, three, and on your way, Captain Henderson." You see, at such a moment, I would call on my military self. Thus I mastered my anxious feelings, chiefly by making my legs go, and entered this darkness. "King?" I said, when I was in. But there was no answer. My voice had a quaver, I heard it myself, and then I caught the rapid pounding of steps below. I extended both arms, but found no rail or wall. However, by the cautious use of my feet I discovered that the stairs were broad and even. All light from above was cut off when Tatu slammed the door. Next moment I heard a heavy bolt bump into place. Now I had no alternative except to follow downward or to sit down and wait until the king turned back to me. With which alternative I risked the loss of his respect and all the rest that I had gained yesterday by overcoming Mummah. Therefore I continued, while I told myself what a rare and probably great man that king was, how he must be nothing less than a genius, and how astonishing his personal beauty was, how the hum he made reminded me of that power station on 16th Street in New York on a hot night, how we were friends, and bound by a truth-telling agreement; finally, how he predicted