Lieutenant Albert Werper had only the prestige of the name he had dishonored tothank for his narrow escape from being cashiered. At first he had been humblythankful, too, that they had sent him to this Godforsaken Congo post instead ofcourt-martialing him, as he had so justly deserved; but now six months of themonotony, the frightful isolation and the loneliness had wrought a change. Theyoung man brooded continually over his fate. His days were filled with morbidself-pity, which eventually engendered in his weak and vacillating mind ahatred for those who had sent him here—for the very men he had at firstinwardly thanked for saving him from the ignominy of degradation.
He regretted the gay life of Brussels as he never had regretted the sins whichhad snatched him from that gayest of capitals, and as the days passed he cameto center his resentment upon the representative in Congo land of the authoritywhich had exiled him—his captain and immediate superior.
This officer was a co