"He can if he likes," was the crisp retort. "Only Ben Halse and ourselves have known each other all our lives, so I don't think there's much fun in that remark."

"That's all there was in it, anyhow," was the answer. "Now I think of it the report came through some of the police."

"Now, Mrs Shelford, you mustn't say it," cut in another man, in mock warning, he, incidentally, holding rank as Inspector in that useful corps.

"Say what?"

"That they are always 'talking through their necks.'"

"Wait till I do," she retorted, with a laugh, the fact being that she was exceedingly popular with the police, rank and file, and had two brothers in it. "Well, what about Ben Halse, and where had they seen him?"

"At his own shop."

"Who were they?"

"I'm not sure. Meyrick, I think, was one."

"Well, if it's true it'll save you a journey, Mr Denham," she said.

"I'll hold on here for a day or two, then, and see. I'm in no violent hurry."

He was inclined to do this in any case. There was a homelike friendliness about these people among whom he had dropped only the night before, which very much appealed to him. Eight or ten of them would gather at table three times a day, and there was not one among them with whom he had not some idea in common. Most of them, too, had been in the country for years, and he had sat quite late into the previous night listening to some of their experiences--experiences narrated with no tom-fool idea of "cramming" a stranger, but, if anything, set in rather too matter-of-fact a frame, at least so it had struck him. And in the said capacity of stranger each and all had laid themselves out to show him courtesy.

Breakfast over, the other boarders went off to their respective avocations, and Denham, lighting a cigar, strolled outside. It was a perfect morning. The sky was a vivid, unclouded blue, the sun, though hot, was not oppressive, and there was just sufficient stirring of the air to make against sultriness. At the back, dropping abruptly from the compound itself, was the first of a series of densely forested kloofs, whose tumbled ma.s.ses of dark foliage seemed to roll like the irregular waves of a sea, and beyond, just glimpsed through the golden haze, a range of green, round-topped hills rose on the skyline. Immediately at hand a non-indigenous profusion of trees and hedges, giving bosky shade to the snug bungalows and official buildings which const.i.tuted the township.

Denham, strolling leisurely up and down the broad, clean-swept garden path flanked by its red lines of Jerusalem thorn, was inclined to think that his lines had fallen in pleasant places. Over and above the beauty of the surroundings and the exhilaration of the clear and ambient air his naturalist soul had already begun to find interest in the unfamiliar birds and insects, which fluttered or crept. Bright b.u.t.terflies alighting coquettishly upon the rose-blooms, the clumsy "whirr" of some ungainly beetle, winging blindly for nowhere in particular, all these were strange to him, and opened out a vista of boundless interest; but what he looked forward to was getting farther into the haunts of strange birds and beasts. He felt light-hearted as a school-boy just escaped for his holidays, lighter-hearted than he had felt for years.

A strange insect motionless upon a rose-stem attracted his attention.

Deftly he captured it by the back of the neck, and holding it lightly but firmly proceeded to examine it. The stick-like joints jerked and struggled slightly, but on the whole the captive seemed to accept the situation with philosophy. So absorbed was he in the examination of the "specimen" that the steps of his hostess, tripping down the garden path behind him, were unheard.

"Beetle-catching, Mr Denham?" she laughed, becoming alive to his present occupation. "What have you got there?"

"It isn't a beetle. It's a fine specimen of the 'praying' amantis.

They are the most hypocritical scoundrels in the insect world. They stand for hours motionless in an att.i.tude of intense prayer, ready to grab the first b.u.t.terfly or anything else that comes in reach."

"Ugh, I don't like crawling things," she laughed. "But I suppose you collect them, do you?"

"Yes; but I shan't keep this one," replacing it upon its stalk, where it at once resumed position as if it had never been disturbed. "Why, you do look workman-like," as he took in the kind of long, artist blouse which she had got on over her dress. "As to which I couldn't help admiring your energy--here, there and everywhere--while taking my own lazy stroll."

She laughed again. "You have to be, if you want to keep a place like this on the go."

"Well, I must say, as far as I've seen, the result is a success."

"Oh, thanks. Well, if you're not always looking after these boys they'll shirk. You don't know what Kafirs are, Mr Denham."

"Not yet. I doubtless shall--in time."

"Are you out here for long, then?"

"Well, that depends. In fact, I don't know what it depends on," he added, with a laugh.

"That's fortunate. It must be jolly to be able to go about as you like.

Wouldn't _I_ like it! But what I came out to tell you was that Inspector James sent round to say that he'll put you up at the club as an honorary member if you'll meet him there at twelve. You were talking about it this morning, weren't you?"

"Yes; that'll be very kind of him. I'll be there. Where is it, by the bye?"

"Right opposite the Court House. Any one will tell you. It's only a small affair, of course, but you'll meet every one there, and it's handy if you're here for a few days to have somewhere to turn into and see the papers. Well, you must excuse me, I've got lots more to do this morning." And she left him.

Denham, going forth presently, could hardly realise, as he strolled along the broad macadamised road fringed by tall eucalyptus-trees and high hedges, through which were glimpsed snug bungalows embedded in flowering gardens, that this was in the heart of what he had always supposed to be a savage country. Yet in even his brief experience he had had opportunity of knowing that in parts still it could be a very savage country indeed. A gang of native convicts, in their white prison dress--undisfigured, however, by the abominable broad arrow--pa.s.sed him, in charge of three or four native constables; the latter, stalwart fellows in their smart uniforms of dark blue and red, each with a pair of handcuffs in his belt and armed with very business-like a.s.segais.

These saluted him as they pa.s.sed. Then one or two groups of native women, mostly with bundles on their heads. These did not salute him.

This was obviously the Court House. He had time to spare, so decided to investigate it. Several natives, squatted outside, gazed curiously at him, but they, too, saluted him. The white man's rule seemed pretty well established here at any rate, he thought; in which connection he also thought of a strange experience or two of his own in this very country, which contrasted with this show of law and order.

The rather bare room seemed dim and cool in contrast to the glare outside. The magistrate looked up, and seeing a stranger, courteously signalled him where to find a seat. There were only trivial cases that morning, and except the court officials Denham was the only white man there. A few natives at the back of the room stood listening to the proceedings! or not finding these interesting enough crept noiselessly out. Denham, to kill time, followed the evidence as it was interpreted by the clerk, and heard the prisoner fined for not paying his dog tax, and the succeeding one sent to gaol for deferred payment of his hut tax, and metaphorically rubbed his eyes. Here was the white man's rule with a vengeance. Witness box and dock, gaol and fine, where a few years back, comparatively speaking, the spear-and-shield armed impis swept, in all the bravery of their war array. A touch on the shoulder interrupted his meditations. Looking up he beheld Inspector James.

"Didn't find you at the club," whispered, the latter. "Shall we go over now?"

"It's a curious contrast," began Denham, when they got outside, "all this law and order in a country with the traditions of this one."

"Well, it's an improvement for these devils, anyhow," was the answer.

"Where we fine them a pound or so Cetywayo would have had them knocked on the head, and I'm not sure his way of doing things wasn't the best."

"You don't like them, then. Now it struck me some of these chaps with the head-rings on were rather fine-looking fellows."

"d.a.m.ned scoundrels, if you only knew as much about them as we do!" was the somewhat sour reply.

"They seem civil enough, anyhow."

"Just here they are, because they've got to be. But they are not everywhere. In fact, they are getting more cheeky every day. It's just possible you may have come up here in time to see some 'sc.r.a.pping'."

"Well, I'll take a hand if there's any going. What's up?"

Inspector James had suddenly stopped. A Zulu was approaching them down the road, a tall man, ringed, and clad in a long overcoat.

"There's one I'd like to have by the heels," he said. "He's up to no good, I can tell you."

The man saluted as he pa.s.sed them, and then astonishment was in store for Denham. To new arrivals the faces of natives are very much alike, but the face of this one he had good reason to remember. He knew, too, that the recognition was mutual.

"Who is he, then?" he asked.

"Oh, he's a sweep from Makanya way; but we've got an eye on him."

"I mustn't try and get behind police secrets," laughed Denham. But the sight of that particular native set him thinking. Among other things he had reason to think that the Inspector's estimate was very likely a correct one.

The Ezulwini Club was somewhat primitive, consisting of a corrugated iron building containing three rooms, the smallest and most important of which was the bar. Here they found two or three other members to whom Denham was duly introduced, and the usual libations were poured out. At this stage the door was darkened, and a tall man entered.

"Hallo! Blest if it isn't Halse. How are you, Halse?"

"How's yourself, Starmer? And you, James?" and there was general handshaking all round. "Pleased to meet you, sir," he went on, as Denham's introduction was effected. Then, to the native bar-tender, "Mabule. Set 'em up again. Here's luck."