"I can scarce believe it." said Lord Warringbow, swirling his brandy "even though I saw him snap the neck of that devilish trotskyite myself. But what I don't understand, Manfred, is how you came to be so attached to a blackface heathen like him."
"Oh, it was a simple enough matter." Said Manfred Slapworthy, 3rd Earl of Dwellingbourne, "I had made the schoolboy error of hiring a dutchman as a guide while on safari, somewhere south of the Congo river. half the party were knocked out by malaria and dysentry, and that Van Buren fellow had vanished in the night with all our supplies."
Manfred paused a moment to light a cigarillo as the firelight illuminated the inner sanctum of The Explorers Club, one of the most exclusive gentlemens clubs on the Strand, London.
"Of course, I kept up a brave front, but I knew we were hopelessly lost. Anyway, we were hearing some frightful sounds come out of the jungle that night, and I was checking my rifle when this young darkie suddenly drops out of the trees. I don't mind telling you, I thought I was under attack by a rabid chimpanzee for a moment."
The gathered gentlemen laughed understandingly.
"He covers my mouth and points off into the distance, and what do you know but theres a whole pack of lions creeping up on us! Dashedest thing, I always thought they were only to be found on the plains. Naturally, I opened fire immediately. It was a close thing, and I had to use my knife in the end, but the young fellow impressed me with his skill as he flew through them like a whirling dervish. The next morning he led us back to the trading post. The fellow seems to have taken a shine to me, so I took him on as a sort of a sherpa, and he's turning out to be somewhat of a valet, given his obvious disability.
Just don't try and make him use a fork!"