means that when your tool, Madame Nadina,
turned against you, you planned to do away
with her—and at last we shall be able to bring
the crime home to you."
"Indeed? And from whom did you get all
this interesting information? From the man
who is even now being looked for by the
police? His evidence will be very valuable."
"We have other evidence. There is
someone else who knew that Nadina was
going to meet you at the Mill House."
Sir Eustace looked surprised. Colonel Race
made a gesture with his hand. Arthur Minks
alias the Rev. Edward Chichester alias Miss
Pettigrew stepped forward. He was pale and
nervous, but he spoke clearly enough:
"I saw Nadina in Paris the night before she
went over to England. I was posing at the
time as a Russian Count. She told me other
purpose. I warned her, knowing what kind of
man she had to deal with, but she did not take
my advice. There was a wireless message on
the table. I read it. Afterwards I thought I
would have a try for the diamonds myself. In
Johannesburg Mr. Rayburn accosted me. He
persuaded me to come over to his side."
386
Sir Eustace looked at him. He said nothing,
but Minks seemed visibly to wilt.
"Rats always leave a sinking ship,"
observed Sir Eustace. "I don't care for rats.
Sooner or later, I destroy vermin."
"There's just one thing I'd like to tell you,
Sir Eustace," I remarked. "That tin you
threw out of the window didn't contain the
diamonds. It had common pebbles in it. The
diamonds are in a perfectly safe place. As a
matter of fact they're in the big giraffe's
stomach. Suzanne hollowed it out, put the
diamonds in with cotton wool, so that they
wouldn't rattle, and plugged it up again."
Sir Eustace looked at me for some time. His
reply was characteristic:
"I always did hate that blinking giraffe," he
said. "It must have been instinct."
u
387
34
WE were not able to return to
Johannesburg that night. The shells
were coming over pretty fast, and I
gathered that we were now more or less cut
off, owing to the rebels having obtained
possession of a new part of the suburbs.
Our place of refuge was a farm some twenty
miles or so from Johannesburg—right out on
the veld. I was dropping with fatigue. All the
excitement and anxiety of the last two days
had left me a little better than a limp rag.
I kept repeating to myself, without being
able to believe it, that our troubles were really
over. Harry and I were together and we
should never be separated again. Yet all
through I was conscious of some barrier
between us—a constraint on his part, the
reason of which I could not fathom.
Sir Eustace had been driven off in an
opposite direction accompanied by a strong
guard. He waved his hand airily to us on
departing.
I came out on to the stoep early on the
388
following morning and looked across the veld
in the direction of Johannesburg. I could see
the great dumps glistening in the pale
morning sunshine, and I could hear the low
rumbling mutter of the guns. The Revolution
was not over yet.
The farmer's wife came out and called me
in to breakfast. She was a kind, motherly
soul, and I was already very fond of her.
Harry had gone out at dawn and had not yet
returned, so she informed me. Again I felt a
stir of uneasiness pass over me. What was this
shadow of which I was so conscious between
us?
After breakfast I sat out on the stoep, a book
in my hand which I did not read. I was so lost
in my own thoughts that I never saw Colonel
Race ride up and dismount from his horse. It
was not until he said "Good morning,
Anne," that I became aware of his presence.
"Oh," I said, with a Hush, "it's you."
"Yes. May I sit down?"
He drew a chair up beside me. It was the
first time we had been alone together since
that day at the Matoppos. As always, I felt
that curious mixture of fascination and fear
that he never failed to inspire in me.
"What is the news?" I asked.
389
"Smuts will be in Johannesburg tomorrow.
I give this outbreak three days more
before it collapses utterly. In the meantime
the fighting goes on."
<
that the right people were the ones to get
killed. I mean the ones who wanted to
fight--not just all the poor people who
happen to live in the parts where the fighting
is going on."
He nodded.
"I know what you mean, Amie. That's the
unfairness of war. But I've other news for
you."
"Yes?"
"A confession ofincompetency on my part.
Pedler has managed to escape."
"What?"
"Yes. No one knows how he managed it.
He was securely locked up for the night--in
an upper story room of one of the farms
roundabout which the Military have taken
over, but this morning the room was empty
and the bird had flown."
Secretly, I was rather pleased. Never, to
this day, have I been able to rid myself of a
sneaking fondness for Sir Eustace. I dare say
it's reprehensible, but there it is. I admired
390
him. He was a thorough-going villain, I dare
say--but he was a pleasant one. Pve never
met anyone half so amusing since.
I concealed my feelings, of course.
Naturally Colonel Race would feel quite
differently about it. He wanted Sir Eustace
brought to justice. There was nothing very
surprising in his escape when one came to
think of it. All round Jo'burg he must have
innumerable spies and agents. And, whatever
Colonel Race might think, I was exceedingly
doubtful that they would ever catch him. He
probably had a well-planned line of retreat.
Indeed, he had said as much to us.
I expressed myself suitably, though in a
rather lukewarm manner, and the conversation
languished. Then Colonel Race
asked suddenly for Harry. I told him that he
had gone off at dawn and that I hadn't seen
him this morning.
"You understand, don't you, Anne, that
apart from formalities, he is completely
cleared? There are technicalities, of course,
but Sir Eustace's guilt is well assured. There
is nothing now to keep you apart."
He said this without looking at me, in a
slow, jerky voice.
"I understand," I said gratefully.
391
"And there
is no reason why he should not
at once resume his real name."
"No, of course not."
"You know his real name?"
The question surprised me.
"Of course I do. Harry Lucas."
He did not answer, and something in the
quality of his silence struck me as peculiar.
"Anne, do you remember that, as we drove
home from the Matoppos that day, I told you
that I knew what I had to do?"
"Of course I remember."
"I think that I may fairly say I have done it.
The man you love is cleared of suspicion."
"Was that what you meant?"
"Of course."
I hung my head, ashamed of the baseless
suspicion I had entertained. He spoke again
in a thoughtful voice:
"When I was a mere youngster, I was in
love with a girl who jilted me. After that I
thought only of my work. My career meant
everything to me. Then I met you,
Anne—and all that seemed worth nothing.
But youth calls to youth. . . . I've still got my
work."
I was silent. I suppose one can't really love
two men at once—but you can feel like it.
392
The magnetism of this man was very great. I
looked up at him suddenly.
"I think that you'll go very far," I said
dreamily. "I think that you've got a great
career ahead of you. You'll be one of the
world's big men."
I felt as though I was uttering a prophecy.
"I shall be alone, though."
"All the people who do really big things
are."
"You think so?"
"I'm sure of it."
He took my hand, and said in a low voice:
"I'd rather have had—the other."
Then Harry came striding round the corner
of the house. Colonel Race rose.
"Good morning—Lucas," he said.
For some reason Harry flushed up to the
roots of his hair.
"Yes," I said gaily, "you must be known
by your real name now."
But Harry was still staring at Colonel Race.
"So you know, sir," he said at last.
"I never forget a face. I saw you once as a
boy."
"What's all this about?" I asked, puzzled,
looking from one to the other.
393
It seemed a conflict of wills between them.
Race won. Harry turned slightly away.
"I suppose you're right, sir. Tell her my
real name."
"Anne, this isn't Harry Lucas. Harry
Lucas was killed in the War. This is John
Harold Eardsley."
394
35
WITH his last words. Colonel Race
had swung away and left us. I
stood staring after him. Harry's
voice recalled me to myself.
"Anne, forgive me, say you forgive me."
He took my hand in his and almost
mechanically I drew it away.
"Why did you deceive me?"
"I don't know that I can make you understand.
I was afraid of all that sort of thing--
the power and fascination of wealth. I wanted
you to care for me just for myself--for the
man I was--without ornaments and
trappings."
"You mean you didn't trust me?"
"You can put it that way if you like, but it
isn't quite true. I'd become embittered, suspicious--always prone to look for ulterior
motives--and it was so wonderful to be cared
for in the way you cared for me."
"I see," I said slowly. I was going over in
my own mind the story he had told me. For
the first time I noted discrepancies in it
TMITBS26 395
which I had disregarded—an assurance of
money, the power to buy back the diamonds
ofNadina, the way in which he had preferred
to speak of both men from the point of view
of an outsider. And when he had said "my
friend" he had meant not Eardsley, but
Lucas. It was Lucas, the quiet fellow, who
had loved Nadina so deeply. <,
"How did it come about?" I asked.
"We were both reckless—anxious to get
killed. One night we exchanged identification
discs—for luck! Lucas was killed the next
day—blown to pieces."
I shuddered.
"But why didn't you tell me before? This
morning? You couldn't have doubted my
caring for you by this time?"
"Anne, I didn't want to spoil it all. I
wanted to take you back to the island. What's
the good of money? It can't buy happiness.
We'd have been happy on the island. I tell
you I'm afraid of that other life—it nearly
rotted me through once."
"Did Sir Eustace know who you really
were?"
"Oh, yes."
"And Carton?"
"No. He saw us both with Nadina at
396
Kimberley one night, but he didn't know
which was which. He accepted my statement
that I was Lucas, and Nadina was deceived by
his cable. She was never afraid of Lucas. He
was a quiet chap—very deep. But I always
had the devil's own temper. She'd have been
scared out of her life if she'd known that I'd
come to life .again."
"Harry, if Colonel Race hadn't told me,
what did you mean to do?"
"Say nothing. Go on as Lucas."
"And your father's millions?"
"Race was welcome to them. Anyway, he
would make a better use of them than I ever
shall. Anne, what are you thinking about?
You're frowning so."
"I'm thinking," I said slowly, "that I
almost wish Colonel Race hadn't made you
tell me."
"No. He was right. I owed you the truth."
He paused, then said suddenly:
"You know, Anne, I'm jealous of Race. He
loves you too—and he's a bigger man than I
am or ever shall be."
I turned to him, laughing.
"Harry, you idiot. It's you I want—and
that's all that matters."
As soon as possible we started for Cape
397
Town. There Suzanne was waiting to greet
me, and we disembowelled the big giraffe
together. When the Revolution was finally
quelled. Colonel Race came down to Cape
Town and at his suggestion the big villa at
Muizenberg that had belonged to Sir
Laurence Eardsley was reopened and we all
took up our abode in it.
There we made our plans. I was to return
to England with Suzanne and to be married
from her house in London. And the trousseau
was to be bought in Paris! Suzanne enjoyed
planning all these details enormously. So did
I. And yet the future seemed curiously
unreal. And sometimes, without knowing
why, I felt absolutely stifled—as though I
couldn't breathe.
It was the night before we were to sail. I
couldn't sleep. I was miserable, and I didn't
know why. I hated leaving Africa. When I
came back to it, would it be the same thing?
; Would it ever be the same thing again?
And then I was startled by an authoritative
rap on the shutter. I sprang up. Harry was on
the stoep outside.
"Put some clothes on, Anne, and come out.
I want to speak to you."
I huddled on a few garments, and stepped
398
out into the cool night air—still and scented,
with its velvety feel. Harry beckoned me out
of earshot of the house. His face looked pale
and determined and his eyes were blazing.
"Anne, do you remember saying to me
once that women enjoyed doing the things
they disliked for the sake of someone they
liked?"
"Yes," I said, wondering what was coming.
He caught me in his arms.
"Anne, come away with me—now—tonight.
Back to Rhodesia—back to the island. I
can't stand all this tomfoolery. I can't wait for
you any longer."
I disengaged myself a minute.
"And what about my French frocks?" I
lamented mockingly.
To this day. Harry never knows when I'm
in earnest, and when I'm only teasing him.
"Damn your French frocks. Do you think I
want to put frocks on you? I'm a damned
sight more likely to want to tear them off you.
I'm not going to let you go, do you hear?
You're my woman. If I let you go away, I may
lose you. I've never sure of you. You're
coming with me now—to-night—and damn
everybody."
399
He held me to him, kissing me until I could
hardly breathe.
"I can't do without you any longer, Anne. I
can't indeed. I hate all this money. Let Race
have it. Come on. Let's go."
"My toothbrush?" I demurred.
"You can buy one. I know I'm a lunatic,
but for God's sake, comeV
.He stalked off at a furious pace. I followed
him as meekly as the Barotsi woman I had
observed at the Falls. Only I wasn't carrying
a frying-pan on my head. He walked so fast
that it was very difficult to keep up with him.
"Harry," I said at last, in a meek voice,
"are we going to walk all the way to
Rhodesia?"
He turned suddenly, and with a great shout
of laughter gathered me up in his arms.
"I'm mad, sweetheart, I know it. But I do
love you so."
"We're a couple of lunatics. And, oh,
Harry, you never asked me, but I'm not
making a sacrifice at all! I wanted to come!"
400
36
THAT was two years ago. We still live
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