Greenmantle - John Buchan

'This is the Dutchman,' said Stumm. 'His name is Brandt. Brandt, you see
before you Herr Gaudian.'
I knew the name, of course; there weren't many in my profession that didn't.
He was one of the biggest railway engineers in the world, the man who had built
the Baghdad and Syrian railways, and the new lines in German East. I suppose
he was about the greatest living authority on tropical construction. He knew the
East and he knew Africa; clearly I had been brought down for him to put me
through my paces.
A blonde maidservant took me to my room, which had a bare polished floor,
a stove, and windows that, unlike most of the German kind I had sampled,
seemed made to open. When I had washed I descended to the hall, which was
hung round with trophies of travel, like Dervish jibbahs and Masai shields and
one or two good buffalo heads. Presently a bell was rung. Stumm appeared with
his host, and we went in to supper.
I was jolly hungry and would have made a good meal if I hadn't constantly
had to keep jogging my wits. The other two talked in German, and when a
question was put to me Stumm translated. The first thing I had to do was to
pretend I didn't know German and look listlessly round the room while they
were talking. The second was to miss not a word, for there lay my chance. The
third was to be ready to answer questions at any moment, and to show in the
answering that I had not followed the previous conversation. Likewise, I must
not prove myself a fool in these answers, for I had to convince them that I was
useful. It took some doing, and I felt like a witness in the box under a stiff crossexamination,
or a man trying to play three games of chess at once.
I heard Stumm telling Gaudian the gist of my plan. The engineer shook his
head.
'Too late,' he said. 'It should have been done at the beginning. We neglected
Africa. You know the reason why.'
Stumm laughed. 'The von Einem! Perhaps, but her charm works well
enough.'
Gaudian glanced towards me while I was busy with an orange salad. 'I have
much to tell you of that. But it can wait. Your friend is right in one thing. Uganda
is a vital spot for the English, and a blow there will make their whole fabric