' He sealed the utterance with that smile
of his, as though it had been a door opening into a darkness he had in
his keeping. You fancied you had seen things--but the seal was on. When
annoyed at meal-times by the constant quarrels of the white men about
precedence, he ordered an immense round table to be made, for which a
special house had to be built. This was the station's mess-room. Where
he sat was the first place--the rest were nowhere. One felt this to be
his unalterable conviction. He was neither civil nor uncivil. He was
quiet. He allowed his 'boy'--an overfed young negro from the coast--to
treat the white men, under his very eyes, with provoking insolence.
"He began to speak as soon as he saw me. I had been very long on the
road. He could not wait. Had to start without me. The up-river stations
had to be relieved. There had been so many delays already that he did
not know who was dead and who was alive, and how they got on--and so on,
and so on. He paid no attention to my explanations, and, playing with
a stick of sealing-wax, repeated several times that the situation was
'very grave, very grave.' There were rumours that a very important
station was in jeopardy, and its chief, Mr. Kurtz, was ill.
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