CHAPTER XXVII

Harry listened attentively whilst I recounted all the events that

I have narrated in these pages. The thing that bewildered and

astonished him most was to find that all along the diamonds had

been in my possession—or rather in Suzanne’s. That was a fact he

had never suspected. Of course, after hearing his story, I realized

the point of Carton’s little arrangement—or rather Nadina’s, since

I had no doubt that it was her brain which had conceived the plan.

No surprise tactics executed against her or her husband could

result in the seizure of the diamonds. The secret was locked in

her own brain, and the “Colonel” was not likely to guess that they

had been entrusted to the keeping of an ocean steward!

Harry’s vindication from the old charge of theft seemed assured.

It was the other, graver charge that paralyzed all our activities.

For, as things stood, he could not come out in the open to prove

his case.

The one thing we came back to, again and again, was the identity

of the “Colonel.” Was he, or was he not, Guy Pagett?

“I should say he was but for one thing,” said Harry. “It seems

pretty much of a certainty that it was Pagett who murdered Anita

Grünberg at Marlow—and that certainly lends colour to the

supposition that he is actually the ‘Colonel,’ since Anita’s

business was not of the nature to be discussed with a subordinate.

No—the only thing that militates against that theory is the attempt

to put you out of the way on the night of your arrival here. You

saw Pagett left behind at Cape Town—by no possible means could he

have arrived here before the following Wednesday. He is unlikely

to have any emissaries in this part of the world, and all his plans

were laid to deal with you in Cape Town. He might, of course, have

cabled instructions to some lieutenant of his in Johannesburg, who

could have joined the Rhodesian train at Mafeking, but his

instructions would have had to be particularly definite to allow

of that note being written.”

We sat silent for a moment, then Harry went on slowly: “You say

that Mrs. Blair was asleep when you left the hotel and that you

heard Sir Eustace dictating to Miss Pettigrew? Where was Colonel

Race?”

“I could not find him anywhere.”

“Had he any reason to believe that—you and I might be friendly with

each other?”

“He might have had,” I answered thoughtfully, remembering our

conversation on the way back from the Matoppos. “He’s a very

powerful personality,” I continued, “but not at all my idea of the

‘Colonel.’ And, anyway, such an idea would be absurd. He’s in the

Secret Service.”

“How do we know that he is? It’s the easiest thing in the world to

throw out a hint of that kind. No one contradicts it, and the

rumour spreads until every one believes it as gospel truth. It

provides an excuse for all sorts of doubtful doings. Anne, do you

like Race?”

“I do—and I don’t. He repels me and at the same time fascinates

me; but I know one thing, I’m always a little afraid of him.”

“He was in South Africa, you know, at the time of the Kimberley

robbery,” said Harry slowly.

“But it was he who told Suzanne all about the ‘Colonel’ and how he

had been in Paris trying to get on his track.”

_“Camouflage_—of a particularly clever kind.”

“But where does Pagett come in? Is he in Race’s pay?”

“Perhaps,” said Harry slowly, “he doesn’t come in at all.”

“What?”

“Think back, Anne. Did you ever hear Pagett’s own account of that

night on the _Kilmorden?”_

“Yes—through Sir Eustace.”

I repeated it. Harry listened closely.

“He saw a man coming from the direction of Sir Eustace’s cabin and

followed him up on deck. Is that what he says? Now, who had the

cabin opposite to Sir Eustace? Colonel Race. Supposing Colonel Race

crept up on deck, and, foiled in his attack on you, fled round the

deck and met Pagett just coming through the saloon door. He knocks

him down and springs inside, closing the door. We dash round and

find Pagett lying there. How’s that?”

“You forget that he declares positively it was you who knocked him

down.”

“Well, suppose that just as he regains consciousness he sees me

disappearing in the distance? Wouldn’t he take it for granted that

I was his assailant? Especially as he thought all along it was I

he was following?”

“It’s possible, yes,” I said slowly. “But it alters all our ideas.

And there are other things.”

“Most of them are open to explanation. The man who followed you in

Cape Town spoke to Pagett, and Pagett looked at his watch. The man

might have merely asked him the time.”

“It was just a coincidence, you mean?”

“Not exactly. There’s a method in all this, connecting Pagett with

the affair. Why was the Mill House chosen for the murder? Was it

because Pagett had been in Kimberley when the diamonds were stolen?

Would _he_ have been made the scapegoat if I had not appeared so

providentially upon the scene?”

“Then you think he may be entirely innocent?”

“It looks like it, but, if so, we’ve got to find out what he was

doing in Marlow. If he’s got a reasonable explanation of that,

we’re on the right tack.”

He got up.

“It’s past midnight. Turn in, Anne, and get some sleep. Just before

dawn I’ll take you over in the boat. You must catch the train at

Livingstone. I’ve got a friend there who will keep you hidden away

until the train starts. You go to Bulawayo and catch the Beira

train there. I can find out from my friend in Livingstone what’s

going on at the hotel and where your friends are now.”

“Beira,” I said meditatively.

“Yes, Anne, it’s Beira for you. This is man’s work. Leave it to

me.”

We had had a momentary respite from emotion whilst we talked the

situation out, but it was on us again now. We did not even look at

each other.

“Very well,” I said, and passed into the hut.

I lay down on the skin-covered couch, but I didn’t sleep, and

outside I could hear Harry Rayburn pacing up and down, up and down

through the long dark hours. At last he called me:

“Come, Anne, it’s time to go.”

I got up and came out obediently. It was still quite dark, but I

knew that dawn was not far off.

“We’ll take the canoe, not the motor-boat——” Harry began, when

suddenly he stopped dead and held up his hand.

“Hush! What’s that?”

I listened, but could hear nothing. His ears were sharper than

mine, however, the ears of a man who has lived long in the

wilderness. Presently I heard it too—the faint splash of paddles

in the water coming from the direction of the right bank of the

river and rapidly approaching our little landing-stage.

We strained our eyes in the darkness, and could make out a dark

blur on the surface of the water. It was a boat. Then there was a

momentary spurt of flame. Some one had struck a match. By its light

I recognized one figure, the red-bearded Dutchman of the villa at

Muizenberg. The others were natives.

“Quick—back to the hut.”

Harry swept me back with him. He took down a couple of rifles and

a revolver from the wall.

“Can you load a rifle?”

“I never have. Show me how.”

I grasped his instructions well enough. We closed the door and

Harry stood by the window which overlooked the landing-stage. The

boat was just about to run alongside it.

“Who’s that?” called out Harry in a ringing voice.

Any doubt we might have had as to our visitors’ intentions was

swiftly resolved. A hail of bullets splattered round us. Fortunately

neither of us was hit. Harry raised the rifle. It spat murderously,

and again and again. I heard two groans and a splash.

“That’s given ’em something to think about,” he muttered grimly,

as he reached for the second rifle. “Stand well back, Anne, for

God’s sake. And load quickly.”

More bullets. One just grazed Harry’s cheek. His answering fire

was more deadly than theirs. I had the rifle reloaded when he

turned for it. He caught me close with his left arm and kissed me

once savagely before he turned to the window again. Suddenly he

uttered a shout.

“They’re going—had enough of it. They’re a good mark out there on

the water, and they can’t see how many of us there are. They’re

routed for the moment—but they’ll come back. We’ll have to get

ready for them.” He flung down the rifle and turned to me.

“Anne! You beauty! You wonder! You little queen! As brave as a

lion. Black-haired witch!”

He caught me in his arms. He kissed my hair, my eyes, my mouth.

“And now to business,” he said, suddenly releasing me. “Get out

those tins of paraffin.”

I did as I was told. He was busy inside the hut. Presently I saw

him on the roof of the hut, crawling along with something in his

arms. He rejoined me in a minute or two.

“Go down to the boat. We’ll have to carry it across the island to

the other side.”

He picked up the paraffin as I disappeared.

“They’re coming back,” I called softly. I had seen the blur moving

out from the opposite shore.

He ran down to me.

“Just in time. Why—where the hell’s the boat?” Both had been cut

adrift. Harry whistled softly. “We’re in a tight place, honey.

Mind?”

“Not with you.”

“Ah, but dying together’s not much fun. We’ll do better than that.

See—they’ve got two boat-loads this time. Going to land at two

different points. Now for my little scenic effect.”

Almost as he spoke a long flame shot up from the hut. Its light

illuminated two crouching figures huddled together on the roof.

“My old clothes—stuffed with rags—but they won’t tumble to it for

some time. Come, Anne, we’ve got to try desperate means.”

Hand in hand, we raced across the island. Only a narrow channel of

water divided it from the shore on that side.

“We’ve got to swim for it. Can you swim at all, Anne? Not that it

matters. I can get you across. It’s the wrong side for a boat——too

many rocks, but the right side for swimming, and the right side

for Livingstone.”

“I can swim a little—farther than that. What’s the danger, Harry?”

For I had seen the grim look on his face. “Sharks?”

“No, you little goose. Sharks live in the sea. But you’re sharp,

Anne. Crocs, that’s the trouble.”

“Crocodiles?”

“Yes, don’t think of them—or say your prayers, whichever you feel

inclined.”

We plunged in. My prayers must have been efficacious, for we

reached the shore without adventure, and drew ourselves up wet and

dripping on the bank.

“Now for Livingstone. It’s rough going, I’m afraid, and wet clothes

won’t make it any better. But it’s got to be done.”

That walk was a nightmare. My wet skirts flapped round my legs,

and my stockings were soon torn off by the thorns. Finally I

stopped, utterly exhausted. Harry came back to me.

“Hold up, honey. I’ll carry you for a bit.”

That was the way I came into Livingstone, slung across his shoulder

like a sack of coals. How he did it for all that way, I don’t know.

The first faint light of dawn was just breaking. Harry’s friend

was a young man of twenty odd who kept a store of native curios.

His name was Ned—perhaps he had another, but I never heard it. He

didn’t seem in the least surprised to see Harry walk in, dripping

wet, holding an equally dripping female by the hand. Men are very

wonderful.

He gave us food to eat, and hot coffee, and got our clothes dried

for us whilst we rolled ourselves in Manchester blankets of gaudy

hue. In the tiny back room of the hut we were safe from observation

whilst he departed to make judicious inquiries as to what had

become of Sir Eustace’s party, and whether any of them were still

at the hotel.

It was then that I informed Harry that nothing would induce me to

go to Beira. I never meant to, anyway, but now all reason for such

proceedings had vanished. The point of the plan had been that my

enemies believed me dead. Now that they knew I wasn’t dead, my

going to Beira would do no good whatever. They could easily follow

me there and murder me quietly. I should have no one to protect

me. It was finally arranged that I should join Suzanne, wherever

she was, and devote all my energies to taking care of myself. On

no account was I to seek adventures or endeavour to checkmate the

“Colonel.”

I was to remain quietly with her and await instructions from Harry.

The diamonds were to be deposited in the Bank at Kimberley under

the name of Parker.

“There’s one thing,” I said thoughtfully, “we ought to have a code

of some kind. We don’t want to be hoodwinked again by messages

purporting to come from one to the other.”

“That’s easy enough. Any message that comes _genuinely_ from me

will have the word ‘and’ crossed out in it.”

“Without trade-mark, none genuine,” I murmured. “What about wires?”

“Any wires from me will be signed ‘Andy.’”

“Train will be in before long, Harry,” said Ned, putting his head

in and withdrawing it immediately.

I stood up.

“And shall I marry a nice steady man if I find one?” I asked

demurely.

Harry came close to me.

“My God! Anne, if you ever marry any one else but me, I’ll wring

his neck. And as for you——”

“Yes,” I said, pleasurably excited.

“I shall carry you away and beat you black and blue!”

“What a delightful husband I have chosen,” I said satirically. “And

doesn’t he change his mind overnight!”