Chapter 7 | Anson Rebounds | A Dash From Diamond City

West saw his fellow-clerk wince slightly again, though it passed unnoticed by the others, and directly after the whole party adjourned to the office, the superintendent’s men following them, and, without doing anything to excite attention, forming a guard at the door.

“There’s nothing here,” said the superintendent in a low tone to Ingleborough and West.

“How do you know?” said the former.

“By his manner. He’s all brag and bounce!”

“Yes,” said Ingleborough; “but you don’t know your man.”

“Look here!” cried Anson; “none of that! Search if you like, but no plotting and planning there! I don’t see why they shouldn’t be charged too. Search their desks as well as mine. Perhaps you’ll find some illicit-diamonds there.”

West started, for a strange suspicion shot through his breast.

“If you do they’ll swear I put ’em there, and the superintendent will believe them.”

“You scoundrel!” cried West passionately, and Anson uttered a low sneering laugh; but his face grew set directly, as the officer turned upon him.

“Which is your desk, sir?” he said sharply.

“Search them all!” was the reply.

“Which is his desk?” said the superintendent to West now.

The young man made no reply, and Ingleborough pointed it out.

“Friends and brother-workers!” said Anson, in a sneering manner. “Look here, noble employers, play fair! Let’s have all the desks and the whole place searched.”

No one spoke, and after a cursory examination of the tall stool in front of the desk the officer picked up a thick silver-mounted rattan cane thrust in a stand by the side of the desk in company with three umbrellas.

“Yours?” he said, turning to the suspect.

“Yes, and one of the umbrellas too. The worst one’s mine. That dandy silk one is West’s. The handles of all three are sure to unscrew and are hollowed out to hold diamonds, no doubt.”

“Of course,” said the officer, and after a glance at the umbrellas he turned the thick heavy cane over in his hands, noticing that in addition to a silver cap there was a thick silver ring about six inches from the top.

“Oh yes, that’s hollow too,” cried Anson mockingly, “and stuffed full of diamonds, I daresay.—Ah! mind you don’t cut your fingers!”

For the officer, as he held the thick cane in both hands, tried to unscrew the top part, thickest by the ring, and, after yielding a little, he gave it a sharp tug, drawing out about a foot of a bright blue damascened sword, and then thrusting it back with an impatient “Pish!”

“A sword-stick,” said the officer.

“Well, why not?” cried Anson. “I don’t carry a revolver.”

The officer thrust the cane into the stand, and then, with Anson watching him keenly, raised the lid of the broad flat desk, turned over some books and papers, measured its depth outside and in to make sure that there was no false bottom, and then brought out the clerk’s little flat mahogany box, Anson grinning sneeringly as the lid was opened and the joints of the flute lay exposed to view.

“Now you’ve got ’em, sir!” cried Anson, with a mocking laugh. “Blow through them, and you’ll find it’s all wind.”

The superintendent turned the box upside down, and the joints were left upon the top of the desk, except that the top joint with its gaping mouth-hole stuck in the velvet fitting, but looked the most hollow of the set.

“There’s nothing here, gentlemen,” said the officer, replacing the other joints and gravely closing the desk.

“Oh, nonsense!” cried Anson, jeering. “You haven’t half looked. Perhaps, though, young West has the whole swag in his desk.”

“Would you like to examine the other desks, gentlemen?” said the officer.

“No, certainly not,” said the leading director sharply; “we have no wish to insult our employés.”

“Only one,” snarled Anson. “Do you call this fair play?”

West drew a breath full of relief, and glanced at Ingleborough, who made no sign, but stood looking stolidly at the officer.

“I’m quite satisfied, gentlemen,” said the latter. “There is nothing here. Do you charge Mr Anson with illicit dealing?”

“You have not searched his apartments yet,” said the chief director. “We wish to have further proofs first.”

Anson opened his mouth a short distance as his chief spoke, and closed it again with a sharp little snap.

“You wish the prisoner’s rooms to be searched then, gentlemen?”

“I’m not a prisoner,” cried Anson angrily. “I’ve neither been charged nor taken into custody.”

“Certainly!” said the director sternly. “Search Mr Anson’s rooms preliminary to his being charged and taken into custody. Mr West, go in front with the superintendent to show the way. I do not wish to make a procession, to create excitement and make us the observed of all.”

“I understand, sir. Mr Anson will walk in advance with me, and you can follow as you please. There is no need for Mr West to walk with us. I know the way!”

“Of course!” snarled Anson. “Mr Ingleborough’s doing, I suppose. Then I have been watched.”

“Yes, my doing,” said the person named. “As soon as I suspected you of illicit dealing I kept an eye upon you and told Mr Norton here what I thought.”

“Cowardly, sneaking cur!” cried Anson, grinding his teeth.

“No, sir,” cried the director sternly: “faithful servant of the company.”

“Where are your proofs that I am not?” cried Anson fiercely.

“Not found yet,” said the officer; “but with all your cunning I daresay we shall trace them.”

“Go on,” said Anson. “I’m ready for you.”

The next minute the whole party were straggling through the camp-like town towards the outskirts, to gather together at the very ordinary shed-like house of mud wall and fluted corrugated-iron roofing, where the wife of one of the men at the mine stared in wonder at the party, and then looked in awe at her lodger, her eyes very wide open and startled as she grasped what the visit meant.

“Oh, Mr Anson, what have you been a-doing of?” she cried, and burst into tears.

West looked at the poor woman with a feeling of pity, and then felt disposed to kick Anson for his brutality, for the clerk’s gesture was that of an ill-tempered cur: he literally snapped at her.

“Out of the way, you idiot!” he cried, “and let this police-constable and his party come by.”

West saw the directors exchange glances before following the superintendent into the little house, leaving the two clerks to the last, the police-constables remaining watchfully at the door.

“Master Anson is regularly cutting the ground from under him, Ingle,” said West softly.

“Yes: the fool! I take it to be a tacit confession. You don’t think I’ve made a mistake now?”

West shook his head and looked distressed, but said nothing.

“Of course he’ll never come back to us, and he knows it, or he’d never put on this defiant manner. Hark at him!”

For at that moment the object of their thoughts shouted loudly: “Here, you two spies, what are you waiting behind for? Come in and help search the place.”

West frowned and hung back, but Ingleborough laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Come along,” he said; “you must help me to see it through! It isn’t pleasant, but it’s part of one’s duty.”

The next minute they were in Anson’s combined bed and sitting room, a very ordinary-looking place, with the simplest of furniture and plenty of suggestions all round of spots where an ingenious man might have hidden a little fortune in diamonds; for the mud walls were lined with matchboard, the ceiling was of the same material, and then there was the floor, where in any part a board could have been lifted and a receptacle made for the precious crystals, without counting the articles of furniture, including the bedding.

“I’m sorry I have no more chairs, gentlemen,” said the tenant banteringly. “Sit on the table, and three of you can make a sofa of the bed. Never mind tumbling it! You’ll do nothing compared to Mr Superintendent Norton when he begins. I say, though, you should have given me notice of all this, and then I’d have had a carpenter here to skin the walls and ceiling so as to have made everything nice and easy for you. I say, Mr Norton, you’ll want a pickaxe and shovel directly, won’t you?”

The directors had paid no heed to the speaker’s bantering remarks, but the superintendent was getting hot, tired, and annoyed by the constant chatter of the man he was longing to arrest; and, though he had treated everything so far with calm indifference, his lack of success in his search for something incriminating in such places as experience had taught him were in favour with those who carried on diamond-smuggling began now to tell upon his temper, and he turned sharply upon the speaker: to snap out words which showed that his thoughts ran on all-fours with those of Ingleborough.

“Look here, young man!” he said; “I don’t know whether you are aware of it, but you are hard at work building up a black case against yourself, and if you’re not careful you’ll find yourself before long working out your two years as a convict on the Cape Town breakwater.”

“I shall!” cried Anson. “What for? Where’s your evidence? You’ve got a jumped-up cock-and-bull story made by a fellow-clerk who says one thing while I say another. You’ve only his word for it. You’ve found no diamonds on me, and you’ve found none in my lodgings.”

“Not yet,” said the superintendent meaningly.

“Oh, I see! Not yet! Go on, then, pray! I’m not paid by time, so I can afford to lose a few hours. Search away! Perhaps our clever friend Ingleborough can tell you where to look. Perhaps he wouldn’t like to, though. It would hurt his feelings to accuse a brother-clerk of being an illicit trader. But don’t mind me, Ingle. It’s good sport for you. Why don’t you help, and think you’re a good little boy playing at ‘hot boiled beans and very good butter’ again? Now then, Norton’s going across to the other side. You should call out ‘colder’ when he’s going away from the place, and ‘warmer’ when he gets nearer. Then ‘hot,’ and last of all ‘burning.’ Come, keep up the game!”

“I should just like to ram that pair of clean socks between your teeth, my fine fellow, and keep it there with a leather strap,” muttered the officer; and, as if about to put his wish into practice, he stooped and picked up the closely rolled-up pair of socks lying with some other articles of attire placed freshly washed upon a shelf by Anson’s landlady.

“Now then,” cried Anson boisterously, “cry ‘burning,’ somebody: there must be some diamonds inside that!”

The directors frowned, and Ingleborough and West looked on angrily as the officer dashed the soft woollen ball back upon the heap and then went on with his search for nearly an hour.

By this time the lookers-on were as much disgusted as the superintendent.

“I’m very sorry, gentlemen,” he cried; “but I can do no more. There is nothing else to be done unless we have my men in and regularly strip the wood-work down.”

“Oh, pray have them in, then,” cried Anson. “If I were you I’d—”

“Silence, sir!” cried the chief director fiercely, and Anson stared. “We have not the slightest doubt of your guilt. Your conduct all through has proved it. That will do, Mr Norton.”

“You think the evidence sufficient to justify an arrest, gentlemen?”

“We will consult together,” replied the director who had just spoken, “and communicate our decision to you.”

“What, aren’t you satisfied yet?” cried Anson mockingly.

“Quite,” replied his chief; “and of course, sir, your post is vacant. For the present, Mr Norton, you will keep an eye upon this man, and see that he does not leave the town.”

“Unless I’m very much mistaken, sir,” said the superintendent, “neither our friend here nor anyone else will leave Kimberley for some time to come.”

“Is it so bad as that?”

“Yes, sir. The Boers are gradually closing in, I am told. But I’ll keep an eye on Mr Anson here all the same.”

Five minutes later the party were on their way back to the mine buildings, where the first thing that West heard was that the Boers were gathering in great force, and, as far as could be judged, were making the Diamond City their objective.

Troubles were gathering fast, and news kept on coming hotter and hotter.

West and Ingleborough were back in their places at the office, talking over the war news and mingling with it the scenes they had just gone through.

“Norton promised me he’d call in here when he left the governors,” said Ingleborough.

“Then he must have forgotten it,” replied West, “for he has been with them quite an hour. I say, I didn’t know that you were such a friend of the superintendent.”

“Well, I’m not in the habit of talking much,” said Ingleborough, smiling. “But I do like him; he’s such a straightforward, manly fellow, and I take so much interest in the way he runs down criminals. I often wish I had joined the detectives who have this diamond-smuggling in hand.”

“Pst! here he is!” said West quickly, for there were steps outside, and directly after a sharp rap at the door.

“May I come in, Ingleborough?”

“Yes. Entrez! West said you’d gone.”

“Did he? You knew I was not?”

Ingleborough nodded.

“What have they decided?” he asked.

“To let the matter drift for the present: only I’m to keep an eye on the scoundrel. They say that we shall all have our hands full enough directly in strengthening the town, and they’re right. I’m afraid we’re going to have a warm time.”

“Think they’ll attack us?” asked West.

“Safe to. Now’s the time for you volunteers to show what you’re made of, for I believe that the enemy will make straight for Kimberley. Our getting the diamond-fields has always been a sore point with them, and we shall have our work cut out to save them.”

“Yes,” said Ingleborough thoughtfully, “and if I’m not mistaken, you’ll have more cause to watch Anson than for smuggling. He has his knife into the company.”

“Exactly,” said Norton; “and if he can make friends with and help the enemy, he will.”

“You mean he’ll be a dangerous spy in the camp?” said West excitedly.

“That’s it, Mr West; but if he plays that game and is caught his punishment will not be a couple of years on the breakwater.”

“No,” said Ingleborough: “the military will deal with him then.”

“How?” asked West, whose veins began to tingle and a cold shuddering sensation to run down his spine.

“A couple of lines of infantry, a volley of musketry, and—”

“Finis,” said the superintendent. “Good day. I don’t wish him any harm; but I feel pretty sure he’ll run straight into some trap. That sort of fellow always does.”

The next minute the door had closed upon the superintendent, and the two young men sat thoughtfully looking in each other’s eyes.

“Only a few hours ago, and we three were calmly working together,” said West sadly; “and I looked upon Anson as an unsatisfactory fellow whom I never could like, but whose worst faults were being a cringing kind of bore and a perfect nuisance with his flute.”

“And I as a smooth hypocrite whom one ought not to trust,” said Ingleborough.

“And now he’s gone, and we’re to have the Boers at us and most likely have to soldier in real earnest. Hallo! Here’s Norton back again.”

For there was a quick step outside, and the door was thrown open. But it was not the superintendent’s face that met their eyes, for their late fellow-clerk stepped boldly in.

“How are you, gentlemen?” he said, with a strong emphasis upon the last word. “So I’ve got the sack; but I’m not going to leave my property behind.”

He stepped to his desk and took out his flute-case, tucked it under his arm, and then drew the sword-cane and umbrella from the stand, giving the pair a maliciously triumphant look.

“Can’t afford to leave the sword-stick as a memento for you, Ingle, nor the flute for sneaky West. Goodbye, both of you. Look out for our next merry meeting. Ta, ta!”

Neither of the young men replied, but sat gazing fixedly at the speaker till he passed out, banging the door.

But only to open it again to look in and utter the one word: “Cads!”

Then the door was banged, and West leaped from his stool and made a dash.

“Stop, stupid!” thundered out Ingleborough, supplementing his words by a bound and flinging his arm round his companion’s chest. “Let the brute go. You don’t want to kick him?”

“But I do,” shouted West, struggling. “Let go.”

“Keep still,” growled Ingleborough, and then, “Why, Noll,” he cried, “I do believe—”

“What?” said West, cooling down and looking wonderingly in his companion’s excited eyes, for Ingleborough had stopped short.

“That flute—that sword-cane—”

“Well, he has got them. Bah! I’m glad you stopped me from punching his head. Let him have them; they’re his.”

“Yes,” said Ingleborough; “but the handle of the cane and the top joint of the flute. There was room for a dozen big diamonds in each.”

“What! Then let’s go and stop him!”

“Yes; we could but be wrong. Come on.”

“Hah! Listen,” cried West, and a sound arose which turned their thoughts in a different channel, for it was like the first note of the coming war.

The trumpet rang out the “assemblée” and thrilled both through and through, sending them to the arm-press for rifle and bandolier.

Clerking was over for many months to come. The pen was to give way to the modern substitute for the sword.