Ninnis put me in authority here.

Somebody has got to take command, and it must be either you, Lady Bridget, or myself.
Perhaps I'm the best qualified of the two....' She laughed shakily in assent.
'Anyway, I fancy that I know how to deal with this sort of affair better than you do,' he said.

'Will you let me manage it my own way ?' She nodded.
'I suppose I may assume that your husband left me in a position of some responsibility.

And if I seem to be taking too much on myself--or, on the other hand, deferring too much to Harris, you'll trust me and not interfere ?' There was no time for discussion, had she wished to go against him.
Oola was shrieking and pointing frantically to the track down from the upper slip rails, along which Harris and his prisoner were to be seen riding.
The Police Inspector, uniformed, burly, triumphant, exhaled the Majesty of the Law as he rode slightly in advance leading the black-boy.

Now, as they pulled up at the fence, Wombo presented a sorry spectacle--a spear wound in his left shoulder, a spear graze on his leg, his wrists handcuffed and his feet tied to the stirrup-iron with cords so tight that they cut into his tough, black flesh.
Harris dismounted, tied Wombo's horse securely to the veranda post and then made his statement which coincided with Bridget's idea of what had happened.