When they reached home they found a visitor awaiting them, in the shape
of Harry Stride. Ben Halse, for all his hospitable instincts, secretly
and within himself wished him at the devil. Verna would rather he had
not come--just then; but Denham, of the trio, was the least concerned.
So secure was he in his own happiness that he could not but be sorry for
the man who had failed to draw his at the same source. But as far as
any outward manifestation of lack of welcome was concerned the new
arrival had no cause of complaint.
During the evening they talked generalities, the state of the country,
the day's visit to Sapazani, and so forth. But Stride, while not
manifesting the former instinctive hostility towards Denham, did not
fail to notice, with jealous eyes, the perfect understanding which
seemed to prevail between him and Verna. Were they engaged? he
wondered. They must be, judging from a look which, more than once, he
saw pass between them. Well, he had a card up his sleeve, but he would
not throw it until the morning. So he went on chatting about things in
general, and Verna was especially kind to him. Denham too, with ready
tact, refrained from anything that might be construed into bordering on
an air of proprietorship! out of consideration for the poor fellow's
feelings; and when Verna went out with Stride for a quarter of an hour
or so to look at the night, he remained chatting with Ben Halse.
"You won't be shooting each other in the night, will you, Denham?" said
the latter drily. The point of the joke was that, accommodation being
somewhat limited, the two men would have to share the same room.
"I'll try not to return the fire; but, on the whole, perhaps I'd better
stick a dummy in the bed, and slip outside. Poor chap! Nobody could be
more sorry for him than myself."
"I'm sure of that. Well, every man must take his chance, and Harry's
young yet. He's a good sort of boy, but I don't believe he'll ever do
much for himself."
"Perhaps he's never had a show."
"That's the worst of it. A lot of these young fellows come drifting up
to this country knowing nothing about it, and think they're going to
pick up gold under every stone. That prospecting business is just
foolery. They'd much better settle down to some steady job. And yet,
and yet--where'd I have been myself if I hadn't let out and chanced it?
Well, it's a world of pitch and toss, after all."
Stride was the first to turn in, and when his companion followed he had
rolled himself in his blanket as though asleep. But he was wide awake
enough in reality. He hated that other so intensely that he could not
trust himself to speak now that they were alone together. Some people
had all the advantages of life and others none; and here this stranger,
solely because he was a rich man, or was reputed to be, must have a free
walk over; must come here and rob him of all that made life worth
living--hope, to wit. Well, to-morrow he would fire the first shell.
And he did.
Just after breakfast, but before they got up from table, Stride produced
a square envelope.
"I took a few snapshots down in the Makanya the other day," he said,
drawing out some prints. "What d'you think of that, Mr Denham?"
handing one across the table to him.
Denham took it, and it was all he could do not to let it drop. The
ghastly face staring at him from the glazed paper, hideous and bloated
through immersion and decomposition, was that of the head which Sergeant
Dickinson had been at such pains, and trouble, and risk to photograph.
There was a frightful fascination about it, and he continued to gaze,
aware the while that Stride was fixing his face with a pitiless glance.
"Well, what d'you think of it?" said the latter, growing impatient.
"Think? Why, that it's a good study of a dissecting-room subject, but a
beastly thing to spring upon any one just after breakfast. Where did
you get it?" handing it back.
"It was taken below the Bobi drift. A head was found sticking in the
bushes, also some clothes, with things in the pockets. I, before that,
found a saddle with a bullet hole through the flap."
"Yes; you told us that at the club the other night, I remember. So
they've found more?"
Stride was puzzled. He thought to have knocked the enemy all of a heap,
but the said enemy had never wilted, beyond what a man might naturally
do who had an unusually ghastly and repulsive picture suddenly sprung
upon him, as Denham had said, just after breakfast.
"But isn't it our turn to be let into the mystery?" suggested Verna
sweetly.
"Oh, I don't know. No; I won't show it to you," answered Stride. "It
is rather nasty, isn't it, Mr Halse?" handing it on to him.
"Looks so. Ugly-looking Jew, I should say. Wonder what the devil he
was doing down there. I suppose they shot him for plunder. Zulus are
not what they were. Time was when a white man was perfectly safe in any
part of this country. Who took the photo, by the way?"
"Dickinson, at Makanya."
"Oh yes, the police sergeant. Well, have they investigated?"
"Rather. They've got at his identity, too. He was a Jo'burg Jew named
Hyam Golding. The next thing is to find out what induced him to travel
that way at all. It doesn't lead anywhere in particular."
"Let me see it," said Verna. "I'm not of the hysterical,
`fainting-female' order, am I? Thanks," as it was handed to her. "What
a horrid-looking man he must have been. I mean apart from the
conditions under which this was taken. Let's see some of the others."
He complied. One he kept out, and handed it to Denham.
"Do you recognise it?" he asked. "You came through it, I think you
said."
"Did I? I think not, considering I didn't know one drift from the
other. However, it's just possible I may have; but one drift is very
like another, especially in photography."
"It's the Bobi."
Somehow Verna's instincts were instantly on the alert. There was more
than a subtle something in Stride's manner and remarks, a sort of
"making a dead set" smack about them. She became cold and hostile
towards him at once. He saw this, and realised he had make a mistake.
So he left the subject of the head, and drew attention to the other
prints.
His plan had failed. He had thought to induce Denham to give himself
away before the others, and that completely. But he had reckoned
without the cool nerves of Denham. Well, the next card to play was
bluff.
An opportunity was not easy to find. Most of the morning they sat in
the shade, and smoked and chatted. But later, when Verna was busy
indoors, and something had taken Ben Halse away, Stride said--
"I've got something to tell you. How about taking a bit of a stroll,
where no one'll hear us?"
"All right. Let's."