Something had been worrying Jedson. Doctor,' he inquired, you were not originally from South Africa?'
Worthington gestured towards his own face. I suppose that Jedson read something there that was beyond my knowledge. As you have discerned. No, I was born in a bush tribe south of the Lower Congo.'
From there, eh? That's interesting. By any chance, are you nganga?'
Of the Ndembo, but not by chance.' He turned to me and explained courteously. Your friend asked me if I was a member of an occult fraternity which extends throughout Africa, but which has the bulk of its members in my native territory. Initiates are called nganga.'
Jedson persisted in his interest. It seems likely to me, Doctor, that Worthington is a name of convenience - that you have another name.'
You are again right - naturally. My tribal name - do you wish to know it?'
If you will.'
It is' - I cannot reproduce the odd clicking, lip-smacking noise he uttered - or it is just as proper to state it in English, as the meaning is what counts - Man-Who-Asks-Inconvenient- Questions. Prosecuting attorney is another reasonably idiomatic, though not quite literal, translation, because of the tribal functions implied. But it seems to me,' he went on, with a smile of unmalicious humour, that the name fits you even better than it does me. May I give it to you?'
Here occurred something that I did not understand, except that it must have its basis in some African custom completely foreign to our habits of thought. I was prepared to laugh at the doctor's witticism, and I am sure he meant it to be funny, but Jedson answered him quite seriously:
I am deeply honoured to accept.'
It is you who honour me, brother.'
From then on, throughout our association with him, Dr Worthington invariably addressed Jedson by the African name he had formerly claimed as his own, and Jedson called him brother' or Royce'. Their whole attitude towards each other underwent a change, as if the offer and acceptance of a name had in fact made them brothers, with all of the privileges and obligations of the relationship.
I have not left you without a name,' Jedson added. You had a third name, your real name?'
Yes, of course,' Worthington acknowledged, a name which we need not mention.'
Naturally,' Jedson agreed, a name which must not be mentioned. Shall we get to work, then?'
Yes, let us do so.' He turned to me. Have you some place here where I may make my preparations? It need not be large-'
Will this do?' I offered, getting up and opening the door of a cloak- and washroom which adjoins my office.
Nicely, thank you,' he said, and took himself and his briefcase inside, closing the door after him. He was gone ten minutes at least.
Jedson did not seem disposed to talk, except to suggest that I caution my girl not to disturb us or let anyone enter from the outer office. We sat and waited.
Then he came out of the cloakroom, and I got my second big surprise of the day. The urbane Dr Worthington was gone. In his place was an African personage who stood over six feet tall in his bare black feet, and whose enormous, arched chest was overlaid with thick, sleek muscles of polished obsidian. He was dressed in a loin skin of leopard, and carried certain accoutrements, notably a pouch, which hung at his waist.
But it was not his equipment that held me, nor yet the John Henrylike proportions of that warrior frame, but the face. The eyebrows were painted white and the hairline had been outlined in the same colour, but I hardly noticed these things. It was the expression - humourless, implacable, filled with a dignity and strength which must be felt to be appreciated. The eyes gave a conviction of wisdom beyond my comprehension, and there was no pity in them - only a stem justice that I myself would not care to face.
We white men in this country are inclined to underestimate the black man - I know I do - because we see him out of his cultural matrix. Those we know have had their own culture wrenched from them some generations back and a servile pseudo culture imposed on them by force. We forget that the black man has a culture of his own, older than ours and more solidly grounded, based on character and the power of the mind rather than the cheap, ephemeral tricks of mechanical gadgets. But it is a stern, fierce culture with no sentimental concern for the weak and the unfit, and it never quite dies out.
I stood up in involuntary respect when Dr Worthington entered the room.
Let us begin,' he said in a perfectly ordinary voice, and squatted down, his great toes spread and grasping the floor. He took several things out of the pouch - a dog's tail, a wrinkled black object the size of a man's fist, and other things hard to identify. He fastened the tail to his waist so that it hung down behind. Then he picked up one of the things that he had taken from the pouch - a small item, wrapped and tied in red silk - and said to me, Will you open your safe?'
I did so, and stepped back out of his way. He thrust the little bundle inside, clanged the door shut, and spun the knob. I looked inquiringly at Jedson.
He has his ... well .. . soul in that package, and has sealed it away behind cold iron. He does not know what dangers he may encounter,' Jedson whispered. See?' I looked and saw him pass his thumb carefully all around the crack that joined the safe to its door.
He returned to the middle of the floor and picked up the wrinkled black object and rubbed it affectionately. This is my mother's father,' he announced. I looked at it more closely and saw that it was a mummified human head with a few wisps of hair still clinging to the edge of the scalp! He is very wise,' he continued in a matter-of-fact voice, and I shall need his advice. Grandfather, this is your new son and his friend.' Jedson bowed, and I found myself doing so. They want our help.'
He started to converse with the head in his own tongue, listening from time to time, and then answering. Once they seemed to get into an argument, but the matter must have been settled satisfactorily, for the palaver soon quieted down. After a few minutes he ceased talking and glanced around the room. His eye lit on a bracket shelf intended for an electric fan, which was quite high off the floor.
There!' he said. That will do nicely. Grandfather needs a high place from which to watch.' He bent over and placed the little head on the bracket so that it faced out into the room.
When he returned to his place in the middle of the room he dropped to all fours and commenced to cast around with his nose like a hunting dog trying to pick up a scent. He ran back and forth, snuffling and whining, exactly like a pack leader worried by mixed trails. The tail fastened to his waist stood up tensely and quivered, as if still part of a live animal. His gait and his mannerisms mimicked those of a hound so convincingly that I blinked my eyes when he sat down suddenly and announced:
I've never seen a place more loaded with traces of magic. I can pick out Mrs Jennings's very strongly and your own business magic. But after I eliminate them the air is still crowded. You must have had everything but a rain dance and a sabbat going on around you!'
He dropped back into his character of a dog without giving us a chance to reply, and started making his casts a little wider. Presently he appeared to come to some sort of an impasse, for he settled back, looked at the head, and whined vigorously. Then he waited.
The reply must have satisfied him; he gave a sharp bark and dragged open the bottom drawer of a file cabinet, working clumsily, as if with paws instead of hands. He dug into the back of the drawer eagerly and hauled out something which he popped into his pouch.
After that he trotted very cheerfully around the place for a short time, until he had poked his nose into every odd corner. When he had finished he returned to the middle of the floor, squatted down again, and said, That takes care of everything here for the present. This place is the centre of their attack, so grandfather has agreed to stay and watch here until I can bind a cord around your place to keep witches out.'
I was a little perturbed at that. I was sure the head would scare my office girl half out of her wits if she saw it. I said so as diplomatically as possible.
How about that?' he asked the head, then turned back to me after a moment of listening. Grandfather says it's all right; he won't let anyone see him he has not been introduced to.' It turned out that he was perfectly correct; nobody noticed it, not even the scrubwoman.
Now then,' he went on, I want to check over my brother's place of business at the earliest opportunity, and I want to smell out both of your homes and insulate them against mischief. In the meantime, here is some advice for each of you to follow carefully: Don't let anything of yourself fall into the hands of strangers - nail parings, spittle, hair cuttings - guard it all. Destroy them by fire, or engulf them in running water. It will make our task much simpler. I am finished.' He got up and strode back into the cloakroom.
Ten minutes later the dignified and scholarly Dr Worthington was smoking a cigarette with us. I had to look up at his grandfather's head to convince myself that a jungle lord had actually been there.
Business was picking up at that time, and I had no more screwy accidents after Dr Worthington cleaned out the place. I could see a net profit for the quarter and was beginning to feel cheerful again. I received a letter from Ditworth, dunning me about Biddle's phony claim, but I filed it in the wastebasket without giving it a thought.
One day shortly before noon Feldstein, the magicians' agent, dropped into my place. Hi, Zack!' I said cheerfully when he walked in. How's business?'
Mr Fraser, of all questions, that you should ask me that one,' he said, shaking his head mournfully from side to side. Business - it is terrible.'
Why do you say that?' I asked. I see lots of signs of activity around-'
Appearances are deceiving,' he insisted, especially in my business. Tell me - have you heard of a concern calling themselves "Magic, Incorporated ?'
That's funny,' I told him. I just did, for the first time. This just came in the mail' - and I held up an unopened letter. It had a return address on it of Magic, Incorporated, Suite 700, Commonwealth Building'.
Feldstein took it gingerly, as if he thought it might poison him, and inspected it. That's the parties I mean,' he confirmed. The gonophs!'
Why, what's the trouble, Zack?'
They don't want that a man should make an honest living
- Mr Fraser,' he interrupted himself anxiously, you wouldn't quit doing business with an old friend who had always done right by you?'
Of course not, Zack, but what's it all about?'