Yet by causing us to give chase he had brought us into the German net more handily than ever they had hoped.

So it was reasonable on his part to suppose that if he could betray us more completely still, he might get rewarded instead of treated as a broken tool.
Yet he did not dare to approach our camp, for fear lest Fred should carry out his threat and fight.

The fight would certainly be reported by the askari on watch at the crossroads, and that would destroy his chance of making believe to be in our confidence.

So he kept sending notes to me when the others were absent, even the native boy who brought them--not daring to enter our camp, but fastening the message to a stone and throwing it in through the tent door.
They were strange, illiterate messages, childishly conceived, varying between straight-out offers to help us escape and dark insinuations that he knew of something it would pay us well to investigate.
It was an English missionary spending three days in Muanza on his way to Lake Tanganika, who came to see what he could do for my wound and cleared up the mystery quite a little by reporting what he had heard in the non-commissioned mess, where he had been invited to eat a meal.
"The Greek," he said, "is trying to curry favor by pretending he knows your plans.

If he succeeds in worming into your confidence and persuading you to make plans to escape with him, they will feel justified in putting you in jail--and that, I understand, is where they want you." "Will you do me a favor ?" I asked.
He hesitated.