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Chapter Nine.
The Mahalapsi Diamond

It was a fine warm evening at Kimberley, and Frank Farnborough, just before the dinner hour at the “Central,” was fortifying his digestion with a glass of sherry and bitters, and feeling on very good terms with himself. He had put in an excellent day’s work at De Beers, that colossal diamond company’s office, where he had the good fortune to be employed, and had that morning received from his chief an intimation that his salary had been raised to four hundred pounds per annum. Four hundred per annum is not an immense sum in Kimberley, where living is dear all round; but for a young man of five-and-twenty, of fairly careful habits, it seemed not so bad a stipend. And so Frank sat down to the excellent menu, always to be found at the “Central,” at peace with the world and with a sound appetite for his dinner. Next to him was a fellow-member of the principal Kimberley cricket team, and, as they were both old friends and enthusiasts, they chatted freely. Everywhere around them sat that curious commingling of mankind usually to be seen at a Kimberley table d’hôte– diamond dealers, Government officials, stock-brokers, detectives, Jews, Germans, Englishmen and Scots, and a few Irish, hunters and traders from the far interior, miners, prospectors, concessionaires, and others. A few women leavened by their presence the mass of mankind, their numbers just now being increased by some members of a theatrical company playing in the town.

As for Frank and his companion, they drank their cool lager from tall tankards, ate their dinners, listened with some amusement to the impossible yarns of an American miner from the Transvaal, and, presently rising, sought the veranda chairs and took their coffee. In a little while Frank’s comrade left him for some engagement in the town.

Frank finished his coffee and sat smoking in some meditation. He was on the whole, as we have seen, on good terms with himself, but there was one little cloud upon his horizon, which gave pause to his thoughts. Like many other young fellows, he lodged in the bungalow house of another man; that is, he had a good bedroom and the run of the sitting-rooms in the house of Otto Staarbrucker, an Afrikander of mixed German and Semitic origin, a decent fellow enough, in his way, who ran a store in Kimberley. This arrangement suited Frank Farnborough well enough; he paid a moderate rental, took his meals at the “Central,” and preserved his personal liberty intact. But Otto Staarbrucker had a sister, Nina, who played housekeeper, and played her part very charmingly. Nina was a colonial girl of really excellent manners and education. Like many Afrikanders, nowadays, she had been sent to Europe for her schooling, and having made the most of her opportunities, had returned to the Cape a very charming and well-educated young woman. Moreover, she was undeniably attractive, very beautiful most Kimberley folks thought her. On the mother’s side there was blood of the Spanish Jews in her veins – and Nina, a sparkling yet refined brunette, showed in her blue-black hair, magnificent eyes, warm complexion, and shapely figure, some of the best points of that Spanish type.

These two young people had been a good deal together of late – mostly in the warm evenings, when Kimberley people sit in their verandas – stoeps, they call them in South Africa – cooling down after the fiery heat of the corrugated-iron town. It was pleasant to watch the stars, to smoke the placid pipe, and to talk about Europe and European things to a handsome girl – a girl who took small pains to conceal her friendliness for the well set-up, manly Englishman, who treated her with the deference of a gentleman (a thing not always understood in South Africa), and withal could converse pleasantly and well on other topics than diamonds, gambling, and sport Frank Farnborough, as he ruminated over his pipe this evening out there in the “Central” fore-court – garden, I suppose one should call it – asked himself a plain question.

“Things are becoming ‘steep,’” he thought to himself. “I am getting too fond of Nina, and I half believe she’s inclined to like me. She’s a nice and a really good girl, I believe. One could go far for a girl like her. And yet – that Jewish blood is a fatal objection. It won’t do, I’m afraid, and the people at home would be horrified. I shall have to chill off a bit, and get rooms elsewhere. I shall be sorry, very sorry, but I don’t like the girl well enough to swallow her relations, even supposing I were well enough off to marry, which I am not.”

As if bent upon forthwith proving his new-found resolve, the young man soon after rose and betook himself along the Du Toit’s Pan road, in the direction of his domicile. Presently he entered the house and passed through to the little garden behind. As his form appeared between the darkness of the garden and the light of the passage, a soft voice, coming from the direction of a low table on which stood a lamp, said, “That you, Mr Farnborough?”

“Yes,” he returned, as he sat down by the speaker. “I’m here. What are you doing, I wonder?”

“Oh, I’m just now deep in your ‘Malay Archipelago.’ What a good book it is, and what a wonderful time Wallace had among his birds and insects; and what an interesting country to explore! This burnt-up Kimberley makes one sigh for green islands, and palm-trees and blue seas. Otto and I will certainly have to go to Kalk Bay for Christmas. There are no palm-trees, certainly, but there’s a delicious blue sea. A year at Kimberley is enough to try even a bushman.”

“Well,” returned Frank, “one does want a change from tin shanties and red dust occasionally. I shall enjoy the trip to Cape Town too. We shall have a pretty busy time of it with cricket in the tournament week; but I shall manage to get a dip in the sea now and then, I hope. I positively long for it.”

As Nina leaned back in her big easy-chair, in her creamy Surah silk, and in the half-light of the lamp, she looked very bewitching, and not a little pleased, as they chatted together. Her white teeth flashed in a quick smile to the compliment which Frank paid her, as the conversation drifted from a butterfly caught in the garden, to the discovery he had made that she was one of the few girls in Kimberley who understood the art of arraying herself in an artistic manner. She rewarded Frank’s pretty speech by ringing for tea.

“What a blessing it is,” she went on, leaning back luxuriously, “to have a quiet evening. Somehow, Otto’s friends pall upon one. I wish he had more English friends. I’m afraid my four years in England have rather spoilt me for Otto’s set here. If it were not for you, indeed, and one or two others now and again, things would be rather dismal. Stocks, shares, companies, and diamonds, reiterated day after day, are apt to weary female ears. I sometimes long to shake myself free from it all. Yet, as you know, here am I, a sort of prisoner at will.”

Frank, who had been pouring out more tea, now placed his chair a little nearer to his companion’s as he handed her her cup.

“Come,” he said, “a princess should hardly talk of prisons. Why, you have all Kimberley at your beck and call, if you like. Why don’t you come down from your pedestal and make one of your subjects happy?”

“Ah!” she returned, with a little sigh, “my prince hasn’t come along yet I must wait.”

Frank, I am afraid, was getting a little out of his depth. He had intended, this evening, to be diplomatic and had manifestly failed. He looked up into the glorious star-lit sky, into the blue darkness; he felt the pleasant, cool night air about him; he looked upon the face of the girl by his side – its wonderful Spanish beauty, perfectly enframed by the clear light of the lamp. There was a shade of melancholy upon Nina’s face. A little pity, tinged with an immense deal of admiration, combined with almost overpowering force to beat down Frank’s resolutions of an hour or two back. He bent his head, took the girl’s hand into his own, and lightly kissed it. It was the first time he had ventured so much, and the contact with the warm, soft, shapely flesh thrilled him.

“Don’t be down on your luck, Nina,” he said. “Things are not so bad. You have at all events some one who would give a good deal to be able to help you – some one who – ”

At that moment, just when the depression upon Nina’s face had passed, as passes the light cloud wrack from before the moon, a man’s loud, rather guttural voice was heard from within the house, and a figure passed into the darkness of the garden. At the sound, the girl’s hand was snatched from its temporary occupancy.

“Hallo! Nina,” said the voice of Otto, her brother, “any tea out there? I’m as thirsty as a salamander.”

The tea was poured out, the conversation turned upon indifferent topics, and for two people the interest of the evening had vanished.

Next morning, early, Frank Farnborough found a note and package awaiting him. He opened the letter, which ran thus:

“Kimberley – In a dickens of a hurry.

“My dear Frank, —

“Have just got down by post-cart (it was before the railway had been pushed beyond Kimberley), and am off to catch the train for Cape Town, so can’t possibly see you. I had a good, if rather rough, time in ’Mangwato. Knowing your love of natural history specimens, I send you with this a small crocodile, which I picked up in a dried, mummified condition in some bush on the banks of the Mahalapsi River – a dry watercourse running into the Limpopo. How the crocodile got there, I don’t know. Probably it found its way up the river-course during the rains, and was left stranded when the drought came. Perhaps it may interest you; if not, chuck it away. Good-bye, old chap. I shall be at Kimberley again in two months’ time, and will look you up.

“Yours ever, —

“Horace Kentburn.”

Frank smiled as he read his friend’s characteristic letter, and turned at once to the parcel – a package of sacking, some three and a half feet long. This was quickly ripped open, and the contents, a miniature crocodile, as parched and hard as a sun-dried ox-hide, but otherwise in good condition, was exposed.

“I know what I’ll do with this,” said Frank to himself; “I’ll soak the beast in my bath till evening, and then see if I can cut him open and stuff him a bit; he seems to have been perfectly sun-baked.”

The crocodile was bestowed in a long plunge bath, and covered with water. Frank found it not sufficiently softened that evening, and had to skirmish elsewhere for a bath next morning in consequence. But the following evening, on taking the reptile out of soak, it was found to be much more amenable to the knife; and after dinner, Frank returned to his quarters prepared thoroughly to enjoy himself. First he got into some loose old flannels; then tucked up his sleeves, took his treasure finally out of the bath, carefully dried it, placed it stomach upwards upon his table, which he had previously covered with brown paper for the purpose, and then, taking up his sharpest knife, began his operations. The skin of the crocodile’s stomach was now pretty soft and flexible; it had apparently never been touched with the knife, and Frank made a long incision from the chest to near the tail. Then, taking back the skin on either side, he prepared to remove what remained of the long-mummified interior. As he cut and scraped hither and thither, his knife came twice or thrice in contact with pieces of gravel. Two pebbles were found and put aside, and again the knife-edge struck something hard.

“Hang these pebbles!” exclaimed the operator; “they’ll ruin my knife. What the dickens do these creatures want to turn their intestines into gravel-pits for, I wonder?”

His hand sought the offending stone, which was extracted and brought to the lamp-light. Now this pebble differed from its predecessors – differed so materially in shape and touch, that Frank held it closer yet to the light. He stared hard at the stone, which, as it lay between his thumb and forefinger, looked not unlike a symmetrical piece of clear gum-arabic, and then, giving vent to a prolonged whistle, he exclaimed, in a tone of suppressed excitement, “By all that’s holy! A fifty carat stone! Worth hundreds, or I’m a Dutchman.”

He sat down, pushed the crocodile farther from him, brought the lamp nearer, turned up the wick a little, and then, placing the diamond – for diamond it was – on the table between him and the lamp, proceeded to take a careful survey of it, turning it over now and again. The stone resembled in its shape almost exactly the bull’s-eye sweetmeat of the British schoolboy. It was of a clear, white colour, and when cut would, as Frank Farnborough very well knew, turn out a perfect brilliant of fine water. There was no trace of “off-colour” about it, and it was apparently flawless and perfect. South African diamond experts can tell almost with certainty from what mine a particular stone has been produced, and it seemed to Frank that the matchless octahedron in front of him resembled in character the finest stones of the Vaal River diggings – from which the choicest gems of Africa have come.

Many thoughts ran through the young man’s brain. Here in front of him, in the compass of a small walnut, lay wealth to the extent of some hundreds of pounds. Where did that stone come from? Did the crocodile swallow it with the other pebbles on the Mahalapsi river, or the banks of the adjacent Limpopo? Why, there might be – nay, probably was – another mine lying dormant up there – a mine of fabulous wealth. Why should he not be its discoverer, and become a millionaire? As these thoughts flashed through his brain, a hand was laid on his shoulder, and a merry feminine voice exclaimed, “Why, Mr Farnborough, what have you got there?”

Frank seized the diamond, sprang up with flushed face and excited eyes, and was confronted with Nina and her brother, both regarding him very curiously.

Otto Staarbrucker spoke first. “Hullo, Frank! You seem to be mightily engrossed. What’s your wonderful discovery?”

The Englishman looked keenly from one to another of his interrogators, hesitated momentarily, then made up his mind and answered frankly, but in a low, intense voice:

“My wonderful discovery is this. Inside that dried-up crocodile I’ve found a big diamond. It’s worth hundreds anyhow, and there must be more where it came from. Look at it, but for God’s sake keep quiet about it.”

Staarbrucker took the stone from Frank, held it upon his big fat white palm, and bent down to the lamp-light. Nina’s pretty, dark head bent down too, so that her straying hair touched her brother’s as they gazed earnestly at the mysterious gem. Presently Otto took the stone in his fingers, held it to the light, weighed it carefully, and then said solemnly and sententiously, “Worth eight hundred pounds, if it’s worth a red cent!”

Nina broke in, “My goodness, Frank – Mr Farnborough – where did you get the stone from, and what are you going to do with it?”

“Well, Miss Nina,” returned Frank, looking pleasantly at the girl’s handsome, excited face, “I hardly know how to answer you at present. That crocodile came from up-country, and I suppose the diamond came from the same locality. It’s all tumbled so suddenly upon me, that I hardly know what to say or what to think. The best plan, I take it, is to have a good night’s sleep on it; then I’ll make up my mind in the morning, and have a long talk with your brother and you. Meanwhile, I know I can trust to you and Otto to keep the strictest silence about the matter. If it got known in Kimberley, I should be pestered to death, and perhaps have the detectives down upon me into the bargain.”

“That’s all right, Frank, my boy,” broke in Staarbrucker, in his big Teutonic voice; “we’ll take care of that. Nina’s the safest girl in Kimberley, and this is much too important a business to be ruined in that way. Why, there may be a fortune for us all, where that stone came from, who knows?”

Already Otto Staarbrucker spoke as if he claimed an interest in the find; and although there was not much in the speech, yet Frank only resented the patronising tone in which it was delivered.

“Well, I’ve pretty carefully prospected the interior of this animal,” said Frank, showing the now perfectly clean mummy. “He’s been a good friend to me, and I’ll put him away, and we’ll have a smoke.”

For another two hours, the three sat together on the stoep at the back of the house, discussing the situation. Staarbrucker fished his hardest to discover the exact whereabouts of the place from whence the crocodile had come. Frank fenced with his palpably leading questions, and put him off laughingly with, “You shall know all about it in good time. For the present you may take it the beast came from his natural home somewhere up the Crocodile River.” (The Limpopo River is in South Africa universally known as the Crocodile.) Presently the sitting broke up, and they retired to their respective rooms. Nina’s handshake, as she said good-night to Frank, was particularly friendly, and Frank himself thought he had never seen the girl look more bewitching.

“Pleasant dreams,” she said, as she turned away; “I’m so glad of your luck. I suppose to-night you’ll be filling your pockets with glorious gems in some fresh Tom Tiddler’s ground. Mind you put your diamond under your pillow and lock your door. Good-night.”

Otto Staarbrucker went to his bedroom too, but not for some hours to sleep. He had too much upon his mind. Business had been very bad of late. The Du Toit’s Pan mine had been shut down, and had still further depressed trade at his end of the town, and, to crown all, he had been gambling in Randt mines, and had lost heavily.

Otto’s once flourishing business was vanishing into thin air, and it was a question whether he should not immediately cut his losses and get out of Kimberley with what few hundreds he could scrape together, before all had gone to ruin.

This diamond discovery of Frank Farnborough’s somehow strongly appealed to his imagination. Where that magnificent stone came from, there must be others – probably quantities of them. It would surely be worth risking two or three hundred in exploration. Frank was a free, open-hearted fellow enough, and although not easily to be driven, would no doubt welcome his offer to find the money for prospecting thoroughly upon half profits, or some such bargain. It must be done; there seemed no other reasonable way out of the tangle of difficulties that beset him. He would speak to Frank about it early in the morning. Comforted with this reflection, he fell asleep.

They breakfasted betimes at the Staarbruckers, and after the meal, Nina having gone into the garden, Otto proceeded to open his proposal to the young Englishman, who had stayed this morning to breakfast. He hinted first that there might be serious difficulty in disposing of so valuable a diamond, and, indeed, as Frank already recognised, that was true enough. The proper course would be to “declare” the stone to the authorities; but would they accept his story – wildly improbable as it appeared on the face of it?

No one in England can realise the thick and poisonous atmosphere of suspicion and distrust in which the immense diamond industry of Kimberley is enwrapped. Its miasma penetrates everywhere, and protected as is the industry by the most severe and brutal – nay, even degrading – laws and restrictions, which an all-powerful “ring” has been able to force through the Cape Parliament, no man is absolutely safe from it. And, even Frank, an employé of the great De Beers Company itself, a servant of proved integrity and some service, might well hesitate before exposing himself to the tremendous difficulty of proving a strong and valid title to the stone in his possession.

“Well, Frank,” said Staarbrucker, “have you made up your mind about your diamond? What are you going to do with it?”

“I don’t quite know yet,” answered Frank, taking his pipe out of his mouth. “It’s an infernally difficult puzzle, and I haven’t hit on a solution. What do you advise?” Here was Otto’s opening.

“Well, my boy,” he answered, “I’ve thought a good deal over the matter, and in my opinion, you’d better keep your discovery to ourselves at present. Now I’m prepared to make you an offer. I’ll find the expenses of a prospecting trip to the place where your crocodile came from, and take a competent miner up with us – I know several good men to choose from – on the condition that, in the event of our finding more stones, or a mine, I am to stand in halves with you. I suppose such a trip would cost three hundred pounds or thereabouts. It’s a sporting offer; what do you say to it?”

“No, I don’t think I’ll close at present,” returned Frank; “I’ll take another few hours to think it over. Perhaps I’ll mention the matter to an old friend of mine, and take his advice.”

Staarbrucker broke in with some heat: “If you’re going to tell all your friends, you may as well give the show away at once. The thing will be all over ‘camp,’ and I wash my hands of it. Let me tell you, you’re doing a most imprudent thing.”

(Kimberley is still called by its early name of “camp” among old inhabitants.)

“Really,” said Frank, coolly enough, “the stone is mine at present, and I take the risk of holding it. I haven’t asked you to run yourself into any trouble on my account.”

“No,” returned the other, “but you are under my roof, and if it became known that I and my sister knew of this find, and of its concealment, we should be practically in the same hole as yourself. Now, my dear boy, take my advice, keep your discovery to yourself till we meet this evening, and let us settle to run this show together. You won’t get a better offer, I’m sure of it.”

“Understand, I promise nothing,” said Frank, who scarcely relished Staarbrucker’s persistency. “I’ll see you again to-night.”

After dinner that evening, the two men met again. Frank reopened the topic, which had meantime been engrossing Staarbrucker’s thoughts to the exclusion of all else.

Frank at once declared his intention of going to see the manager next day, to tell him of the find and take his advice.

Otto Staarbrucker made a gesture of intense annoyance. “You are never going to play such an infernal fool’s game as that, surely?” he burst out. “I’ve made you a liberal offer to prospect thoroughly at my own expense the place where that stone came from, on half shares. If you accept my offer, well and good. If you don’t, I shall simply tell your little story to the detective department, and see what they think of it. Think it well over. I’ll come and see you to-morrow morning, early.”

He turned on his heel, and went out of the house.

Frank had felt a little uncomfortable during Otto’s speech, but now he was angry – so indignant at the turn affairs had taken, and at the threat, idle though it was, held out to him, that he determined next day to quit the house and have done with the man altogether. He had never liked him. True, there was Nina. Nina – so utterly different from her brother. He should be sorry indeed to leave her. She had a very warm corner in his heart. He would miss the pleasant evenings spent in her company. What should he do without her merry camaraderie, her kindly, unselfish ways, the near presence of her bewitching face, and her evident preference for his company? At that moment Nina entered the room. Frank looked, as he felt, embarrassed, and the girl saw it at once.

“What’s the matter, Frank? You ought to look happy with that eight hundred pound diamond of yours; yet you don’t. Aren’t things going as you like, or what is it?”

“No,” answered Frank, reddening, “things are not going quite right. Your brother has made me a proposition, which I don’t quite see in his light, and we’ve rather fallen out about it. However, my tiff with Otto need make no difference between you and me. We haven’t quarrelled, and I hope you won’t let our old friendship be broken on that account.”

“Indeed, no,” returned Nina, “why should it? But I shall see Otto and talk to him; I can’t have you two falling out about a wretched diamond, even although it is a big one. Since you came here, things have been so much pleasanter, and,” – the girl paused, and a flush came to her face, “well, we can’t afford to quarrel, can we? Friends – real friends, I mean – are none too plentiful in Kimberley.”

Nina spoke with a good deal of embarrassment for her, and a good deal of feeling, and she looked so sweet, such an air of tenderness and of sympathy shone in her eyes, that Frank was visibly touched.

“Nina,” he said, “I’m really sorry about this affair. Perhaps in the morning it may blow over. I hope so. I have had something on my mind lately, which perhaps you can guess at, but which I won’t enter upon just now. Meanwhile, don’t say anything to your brother about this row. Let us see what happens to-morrow. Heaven knows I don’t want to quarrel with any one belonging to you.”

Early next morning, while Frank sat up in bed sipping his coffee and smoking a cigarette, the door opened, and Otto Staarbrucker entered the room. He had been thinking over matters a good deal during the night, and had made up his mind that somehow he and Frank must pull together over this diamond deal. His big, florid face was a trifle solemn, and he spoke quietly for him. But he found Frank as firm as ever against his utmost entreaties.

“I’ve thought it all out,” Frank said; “I don’t like your plan, and I mean to show our manager the stone to-day, and tell him all about it. I think it will be best in the long-run.” He spoke quietly, but with a mind obviously quite made up.

The blood ran to Otto’s head again; all his evil passions were getting the upper hand. “Frank, take care,” he said. “You are in a dangerous position about this diamond. I don’t think you quite realise it. Once more I warn you; don’t play the fool. Make up your mind to come in with me and we’ll make our fortunes over it.”

Frank began to get angry too. “It’s no use harping on that string further,” he said, “I’m not coming in with you under any circumstances, and you may as well clearly understand it, and take no for an answer.” Then, half throwing off the light bed-clothing, “I must get up and have breakfast.”

Otto glared at him for a second or two before he spoke. “For the last time I ask you, are you coming in with me?”

There was clear threat in the deliberation of his tones, and Frank grew mad under it.

“Oh, go to the dickens,” he burst out, “I’ve had enough of this. Clear out of it; I want to get up.”

Otto stepped to the door. “I’m going now to the detective office; you’ll find you’ve made a big mistake over this. By Heaven! I’ll ruin you, you infernal, stuck-up English pup!”

His face was red with passion; he flung open the door, slammed it after him, and went out into the street.

Frank heard him go. “All idle bluff,” he said to himself. “The scoundrel! He must have taken me for an idiot, I think. I’ve had enough of this, and shall clear out, bag and baggage, to-day. Things are getting too unpleasant.”

He jumped up, poured the water into his bath, and began his ablutions.

Meanwhile, Otto Staarbrucker, raging with anger and malice, was striding along the shady side of the street, straight for the chief detective’s house. Despite his tinge of Jewish blood, there was in his system a strong touch of the wild ungovernable temper, not seldom found in the Teutonic race. It was not long before he had reached the detective’s house, and announced himself. Carefully subduing, as far as possible, the outward manifestation of his malicious wrath, he informed the acute official, to whom he was, at his own request, shown, that his lodger, Mr Farnborough, was in possession of a valuable unregistered diamond, which he stated he had found in a stuffed crocodile’s interior, or some equally improbable place. That to his own knowledge the stone had been unregistered for some days, although he had repeatedly urged Farnborough to declare it; that the whole surroundings of the case were, to his mind, very suspicious; and, finally, that, as he could not take the responsibility of such a position of affairs under his roof, he had come down to report the matter.

The detective pricked up his ears at the story, reflected for a few moments, and then said: “I suppose there is no mistake about this business, Mr Staarbrucker. It is, as you know, a very serious matter, and may mean the ‘Breakwater.’ Mr Farnborough has a good position in De Beers, and some strong friends, and it seems rather incredible (although we’re never surprised at anything, where diamonds are in question) that he should have got himself into such a mess as you tell me.”

“I am quite certain of what I tell you,” replied Staarbrucker. “If you go up to my house now, you’ll find Farnborough in his bedroom, and the stone’s somewhere on him, or in his room. Don’t lose time.”

“Well,” responded the detective, “I’ll see to the matter at once. So long, Mr Staarbrucker!”

Mr Flecknoe, the shrewdest and most active diamond official in Kimberley, as was his wont, lost not an instant. He nosed the tainted gale of a quarry. In this case he was a little uncertain, it is true; but yet there was the tell-tale taint, the true diamond taint, and it must at once be followed. Mr Flecknoe ran very mute upon a trail, and in a few minutes he was at Staarbrucker’s bungalow. Staarbrucker himself had, wisely perhaps, gone down to his store, there to await events. Vitriolic anger still ran hotly within him. He cared for nothing in the world, and was perfectly reckless, provided only that Frank Farnborough were involved in ruin, absolute and utter.

Mr Flecknoe knocked, as a matter of form, in a pleasant, friendly way at the open door of the cottage, and then walked straight in. He seemed to know his way very completely – there were few things in Kimberley that he did not know – and he went straight to Frank’s bedroom, knocked again and entered. Frank was by this time out of his bath, and in the act of shaving. It cannot be denied that the detective’s appearance, so soon after Staarbrucker’s threat, rather staggered him, and he paled perceptibly. The meshes of the I.D.B. nets are terribly entangling, as Frank knew only too well, and I.D.B. laws are no matters for light jesting. Mr Flecknoe noted the change of colour.