But now comes the hardest part psychologically — waiting for news of Moore without shewing the strain. Of course, he may possibly escape a bite until the venom is played out — but with his recklessness the chances are one hundred to one against him. I have no regrets; after what he did to me, he deserves this and more.
June 30, 1930 — Hurrah! The first step worked! Just heard casually from Dyson of Columbia that Moore had received some new blue-winged flies from Africa, and that he is badly puzzled over them! No word of any bite — but if I know Moore’s slipshod ways as I think I do, there’ll be one before long!
August 27, 1930 — Letter from Morton in Cambridge. He says Moore writes of feeling very run-down, and tells of an insect bite on the back of his neck — from a curious new specimen that he received about the middle of June. Have I succeeded? Apparently Moore doesn’t connect the bite with his weakness. If this is the real stuff, then Moore was bitten well within the insect’s period of infectivity.
Sept. 12, 1930 — Victory! Another line from Dyson says that Moore is really in an alarming shape. He now traces his illness to the bite, which he received around noon on June 19, and is quite bewildered about the identity of the insect. Is trying to get in touch with the “Nevil Wayland-Hall” who sent him the shipment. Of the hundred-odd that I sent, about twenty-five seem to have reached him alive. Some escaped at the time of the bite, but several larvae have appeared from eggs laid since the time of mailing. He is, Dyson says, carefully incubating these larvae. When they mature I suppose he’ll identify the tsetse-palpalis hybridisation — but that won’t do him much good now. He’ll wonder, though, why the blue wings aren’t transmitted by heredity!
Nov. 8, 1930 — Letters from half a dozen friends tell of Moore’s serious illness. Dyson’s came today. He says Moore is utterly at sea about the hybrids that came from the larvae and is beginning to think that the parents got their blue wings in some artificial way. Has to stay in bed most of the time now. No mention of using tryparsamide.
Feb. 13, 1931 — Not so good! Moore is sinking, and seems to know no remedy, but I think he suspects me. Had a very chilly letter from Morton last month, which told nothing of Moore; and now Dyson writes — also rather constrainedly — that Moore is forming theories about the whole matter. He’s been making a search for “Wayland-Hall” by telegraph — at London, Ukala, Nairobi, Mombasa, and other places — and of course finds nothing. I judge that he’s told Dyson whom he suspects, but that Dyson doesn’t believe it yet. Fear Morton does believe it.
I see that I’d better lay plans for getting out of here and effacing my identity for good. What an end to a career that started out so well! More of Moore’s work — but this time he’s paying for it in advance! Believe I’ll go back to South Africa — and meanwhile will quietly deposit funds there to the credit of my new self— “Frederick Nasmyth Mason of Toronto, Canada, broker in mining properties”. Will establish a new signature for identification. If I never have to take the step, I can easily re-transfer the funds to my present self.
Aug. 15, 1931 — Half a year gone, and still suspense. Dyson and Morton — as well as several other friends — seem to have stopped writing me. Dr. James of San Francisco hears from Moore’s friends now and then, and says Moore is in an almost continuous coma. He hasn’t been able to walk since May. As long as he could talk he complained of being cold. Now he can’t talk, though it is thought he still has glimmers of consciousness. His breathing is short and quick, and can be heard some distance away. No question but that Trypanosoma gambiense is feeding on him — but he holds out better than the niggers around here. Three months and eight days finished Batta, and here Moore is alive over a year after his biting. Heard rumours last month of an intensive search around Ukala for “Wayland-Hall”. Don’t think I need to worry yet, though, for there’s absolutely nothing in existence to link me with this business.
Oct. 7, 1931 — It’s over at last! News in the Mombasa Gazette. Moore died September 20 after a series of trembling fits and with a temperature vastly below normal. So much for that! I said I’d get him, and I did! The paper had a three-column report of his long illness and death, and of the futile search for “Wayland-Hall”. Obviously, Moore was a bigger character in Africa than I had realised. The insect that bit him has now been fully identified from the surviving specimens and developed larvae, and the wing-staining is also detected. It is universally realised that the flies were prepared and shipped with intent to kill. Moore, it appears, communicated certain suspicions to Dyson, but the latter — and the police — are maintaining secrecy because of absence of proof. All of Moore’s enemies are being looked up, and the Associated Press hints that “an investigation, possibly involving an eminent physician now abroad, will follow”.