she said in sober tones

"Here," said Kingozi, holding out the letter, "is a _barua_ for you--from your friend Winkleman in the Congo." The shock of surprise held her speechless for a moment. "Your blindness is well! You can see!" she cried then. Kingozi raised his head sharply, for there was a lilt of relief and gladness in her voice. "No," he answered, "just ordinary deduction. Am I right?" He heard her slowly unfolding the paper. "Yes, you are right," she said in sober tones, after a moment. She uttered a happy exclamation, then another; then ran to his side and threw her arms around his neck in an impulsive hug. Kingozi remembered the waiting men and motioned them away. She was talking rapidly, almost hysterically, as people talk when relieved of a pressure. "Yes, it is from Winkleman. He has come in from the Congo side. When this letter was written he was only ten days' march from M'tela." "How do you know that?" interjected Kingozi sharply. "Native information, he says. Oh, I am so glad! so glad! so glad!" "That was the plan from the start, was it?" said Kingozi. "I don't know whether it was a good plan or that I have been thick. My head is in rather a whirl. It was Winkleman right along, was it?" She laughed excitedly. "Oh, such a game! Of course it was Winkleman. Did you think me one to be sent to savage kings?" "It didn't seem credible," muttered Kingozi. "It is a humiliating question, but seems inevitable--were you actually sent out by your officials merely to delay _me?_" "So that Winkleman might arrive first--surely." "I see." Kingozi's accent was getting to be more formally polite. "But why you? Why did not your most efficient employers dispatch an ordinary assassin? I do not err in assuming that you all knew that this war was to be declared at this time." "That is true." Her voice still sang, her high spirits unsubdued by his veiled sarcasm.