ANNA 
 
 (pmte^se 
 
 de Bremont
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE 
 
 GENTLEMAN 
 
 DIGGER
 
 A FEW PRESS OPINIONS 
 
 OF THE FIRST EDITION OF 
 
 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER. 
 
 MORNING POST " A graphic, cleverly written story of South African life." 
 GLASGOW HERALD " Decidedly smart, the production of a clever writer." 
 VANITY FAIR "An interesting portrayal of life at the Cape." 
 FINANCIAL NEWS " It is very fini and thrilling and impressive." 
 
 ACADEMY "The Comtesse de Bremont presents us with a terribly realistic picture of life 
 in Johannesburg during the raging of the gold fever." 
 
 REVIEW OF REVIEWS " Considered apart from its merits as a story, which are by no means 
 inconsiderable, this work possesses special value as being a vivid and accurate picture of 
 life in the South African gold-fields in Johannesburg." 
 
 GRAPHIC " The Comtesse de Bremont has the advantage of an unhackneyed subject, with 
 which she has fortunately shown herself competent to deal in an interesting manner, and 
 with a freedom from sentimentality which is promising for the future." 
 
 ATHEN^UM "The Comtesse de Bremont has a facile pen The story fulfils its pur- 
 pose as a study of Johannesburg life during the famine, the crisis, and collapse of the share 
 market. It is obviously truthfully drawn, and gives a lurid picture of the mingled sordidness 
 and luxury of that remarkable example of a mushroom city." 
 
 DAILY TELEGRAPH "Those who like a good story, pleasantly told, should read The 
 Gentleman Digger. .... Readers who turn their attention to this volume will, apart 
 from the interesting plot, gain much insight into the manners and customs of a land 
 which is only just breaking into civilization as we understand it." 
 
 CITY PRESS (London) " Such a story cannot but serve to greatly strengthen the hands of 
 those who, in Parliament ar 
 remove a stain that at the pre 
 
 those who, in Parliament and elsewhere, are seeking by every means in their power to 
 he present moment mars the fair fame of Great Britain." 
 
 SPECTATOR (London) " The characters are true to life, and the narration is continuous and 
 spirited. The Comtesse de Bremont knows how to describe people and places, and there 
 is local colouring." 
 
 ARGUS (Cape Town) "Positively startling in the freedom with which the authoress has 
 allowed herself to deal with well-known characters at the Rand. The portraits are sketched 
 with so little disguise that we tremble to think how Johannesburgers will look into each 
 other's eyes, and ask, 'Is it I?' .... The Comtesse de Bremont has a sprightly style, 
 and the sketches in its pages are wonderfully vivid, and give a picture of life at the Rand 
 which no sober narrative could convey." 
 
 JOHANNESBURG STANDARD "The book will be seized on with avidity, doubtless for the 
 reasons above stated, and because Croesus a well-known millionaire journalists, brokers, 
 the jeunesse dorte^ and other individuals are offensively portrayed, not only with such 
 impertinent detail as to make them easily recognisable, but with such spices of scandal and 
 gossip that one-half of the world, which delights in reading anything that is ' down on ' the 
 
 other half, will purchase the book and read it with voracity It is served up warm 
 
 very ! " 
 
 COURT JOURNAL " Smart and realistic to a degree, which induces us to advise the author to 
 ride the Pegasus with a bearing-rein for the future, there can be no doubt as to the read- 
 ability of The Gentleman Digger, by Anna, Comtesse de Bremont, in which are painted in 
 vivid colours the wild life of Johannesburg and the African gold-fields at the time of the 
 ' boom ' in Rand mines. The book is virtually a graphic description of a sort of Bohe- 
 mianism run wild, and both characters and incidents are often so strongly drawn as to 
 be calculated to give the more sensitive class of readers something of a shock. ' Which 
 his language is free ' might be applied to many of the characters in this curious story, in- 
 teresting in its way as a study of men and manners or want of them."
 
 THE 
 
 GENTLEMAN 
 DIGGER 
 
 BEING STUDIES 
 
 AND PICTURES OF 
 
 LIFE IN JOHANNESBURG 
 
 ANNA, COMTESSE DE BREMONT 
 
 AUTHOR OF "SOUTH AFRICAN STORIES" 
 "A SON OF AFRICA" 
 " THE RAGGED EDGE " 
 "SONNETS AND LOVE POEMS 
 "THE WORLD OF MUSIC, ETC. 
 
 A NEW AND REVISED EDITION 
 
 [All Rights Reserved] 
 
 LONDON 
 GREENING & CO., LTD 
 
 2O CECIL COURT 
 CHARING CROSS ROAD 
 1899
 
 COPYRIGHT 
 IN UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 
 
 BY 
 ANNA, COMTESSE DE BREMONT, 
 
 nfe DUNPHIE 
 
 August 1899
 
 It 
 
 6003 
 
 TO 
 
 THE MEMORY OF MY HUSBAND 
 
 LE COMTE EMILE LEON DE BREMONT 
 
 A HERO OF THE CRIMEA 
 
 A FRIEND OF SUFFERING HUMANITY 
 
 THIS LITTLE BOOK IS LOVINGLY AND REVERENTLY 
 
 Befcicatefc 
 
 1216905
 
 AT ALL LIBRARIES 
 
 A Powerful and Brilliant Novel 
 
 THE HYPOCRITE 
 
 A Modern Realistic Story of Oxford and London Life 
 Crown 8vo, Art Cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 FOURTH IMPRESSION 
 
 WITH A NEW PREFACE 
 
 THE DAILY TELEGRAPH says : "A book by an anonymous 
 author always arouses a certain inquiry, and when the 
 book is clever and original the interest becomes keen, 
 and conjecture is rife, endowing the most unlikely people 
 
 with authorship It is very brilliant, very forcible, 
 
 very sad It is perfect in its way ; in style clear, sharp, 
 
 and forcible ; the dialogue epigrammatic and sparkling 
 
 Enough has been said to show that The Hypocrite is a 
 striking and powerful piece of work, and that its author has 
 established his claim to be considered a writer of originality 
 and brilliance."
 
 PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION 
 
 TEN years have elapsed since I wrote these 
 studies of Johannesburg in the Transvaal. 
 
 The book has lived to reappear in this New 
 Edition. 
 
 Why? 
 
 Because the book has grown in interest with 
 its subject. 
 
 After ten years Ariadne s prayer has been 
 answered. 
 
 England has awakened to the realisation of 
 her duty towards Englishmen in the Trans- 
 vaal. 
 
 Ten years have accomplished the fulfilment 
 of Ariadne s prophecy of the future of Cecil 
 Rhodes. 
 
 Ten years have beheld the storming by Croesus 
 of social and financial London and witnessed 
 the tragic end of his greatness. 
 
 Peace be to his ashes !
 
 viii PREFACE 
 
 In ten years Johannesburg has emerged from 
 the chrysalis of Darkness, Drought, Shanty- 
 dom, Fever, and Mud. 
 
 To-day ! Johannesburg is the Queen City of 
 the Veld. 
 
 Palaces of marble, brick, and stone adorn 
 her streets. 
 
 Electricity illumines her nights. Its splen- 
 dour radiates from Mine to Mine along the 
 great Reefs. 
 
 Villas and Gardens, Parks and Pleasure- 
 grounds, revel in the beauty of perpetual light. 
 
 Roads of asphalt and stone welcome the tread 
 of many feet. 
 
 The Railway, the Tram, the Motor-car have 
 vanquished the Coach, the Bullock-waggon, and 
 Cape-cart. 
 
 The reign of the Cycle brings the pleasures of 
 travel to poor as well as rich. 
 
 The best of the Foiirth Estate has been brought 
 to bear on the enlightenment of the multitude. 
 
 The Wild Cat Promoter has vanished to the 
 limbo of Justice. 
 
 The Gold output has leapt from ten-thousand 
 to half-a-million ounces a month. 
 
 Last years (1898) value was ^16,240,630. 
 
 The present output amounts to nearly half-a- 
 million ounces per month.
 
 PREFACE ix 
 
 Ten years ago the value of output was 
 ,1,490,568 ; this year it exceeds ^20,000,000 
 sterling. 
 
 The total value of the output of gold from 
 the Transvaal up to the end of last year was 
 ^70,228,603. 
 
 All this Progress in one decade of the nine- 
 teenth Century ! 
 
 Yet, Behold! 
 
 Johannesburg, the most amazing Miracle of 
 Progress the world has ever seen. 
 
 Behold her ! Boer - ridden ! With the 
 heaviest taxation in the world. A prey to 
 the evils of Illicit Liquor traffic. 
 
 Behold! the men who have worked this 
 miracle of progress. 
 
 Behold them: gagged with the muzzle of 
 Uitlander. 
 
 Behold them : without Liberty of Franchise, 
 without Liberty of Speech, without Liberty of 
 Home, and without Liberty of Religion. 
 
 Johannesburg ! Beautiful without : rotten 
 within. 
 
 Shall Britain wait another decade to work 
 out thy redemption ? 
 
 ANNA DE BREMONT, 
 N^e DUNPHIE. 
 
 LONDON, August 1899.
 
 IN the process of civilisation there are many 
 evils, some of which are necessary others 
 totally unnecessary. The greatest of these is 
 the introduction of intoxicants among the 
 savage nations whom the white man has con- 
 quered in his march of progress. It is an 
 awful crime practised without compunction 
 against the black humanity of Africa. 
 
 A crime crying out daily and hourly, in the 
 wilderness and in the town, in the night and 
 in the blessed sunshine, for vengeance on the 
 unscrupulous men who, through the lust for 
 gain, degrade and ruin the helpless native by 
 the indiscriminate sale of alcoholic drink. 
 
 The incident, portrayed in this brief study, of 
 the cruel murder of an Englishman by five 
 drunken natives, and the details of the trial, are 
 facts that can be verified by the principal 
 Johannesburg evening paper. 
 
 ANNA DE BREMONT, 
 Me DUNPHIE. 
 
 JOHANNESBURG, 1890.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A TAP AT THE WINDOW i 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 How THE SHAREHOLDERS' MONEY WENT . . 15 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 POVERTY TRIES THE DOOR BUT LOVE LOCKS HIM 
 
 OUT 33 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 ARIADNE'S VISION 44 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE IN DOORNFONTEIN . 56 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE PRICE OF A SINGLE FLOWER . . . -73 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 THE MILLIONAIRE'S DINNER 81 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 THE LAST OF THE BOOM 91 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 A TYPICAL LADY OF THE BAR . . . .107 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 A CRY IN THE NIGHT THE VANQUISHER VAN- 
 QUISHED . . . . . . . .124 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 ONE MORE UNFORTUNATE 139
 
 xii CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER XII PAGE 
 
 THE "ARGUS" HOUSE-WARMING . . . . 150 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 EVERY MAN HAS A RIGHT TO SPEAK HIS MIND . 159 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 A SATURDAY NIGHT'S DEBAUCH . . . .181 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 SUNDAY DOINGS ON THE REEF . . . -197 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 A SUNDAY NIGHT'S CRIME 210 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 A MORNING RIDE TO WILLOW GROVE . . .220 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 CAPTAIN ACHILLES PLAYS THE ROLE OF IAGO . 234 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 A BIG LITTLE MANAGER 248 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 THE ASSISTANT LANDDROST HOLDS COURT . .256 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 KING FEVER THE AVENGER 277 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 HOMEWARD BOUND 288 
 
 SCENARIO 
 
 THE action covers six months passed in Johannesburg during the 
 famine, crisis, and collapse of the share-market. 
 
 Only incidents peculiar to the life in the Rand have been described, 
 through which is woven a love interest, the two actors being from their re- 
 spective callings intimately connected with the life studies herein depicted, 
 LONDON, 1899.
 
 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A TAP ON THE WINDOW 
 
 NEARLY six thousand feet above the level of 
 the sea lies the vast veld of the Witwaters- 
 rand a bare wind-swept plateau unbroken 
 by mountains bound by gently-rising hills or 
 kopjes. No verdure save the karroo bush 
 relieves these grey mounds of gigantic boulders 
 outlined in rugged grandeur on the confines of 
 the great plain. 
 
 Over all dips the edge of the horizon like 
 a vast inverted basin of gorgeous blue and 
 silver. 
 
 Very deep is the red hue of the sandy soil, 
 the vital colour of the virgin gold sleeping 
 beneath in the far depths of the wild barren 
 land.
 
 2 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 It was the magnet of this gold that drew to 
 the bleak and trackless region the mighty band 
 of diggers who have since blazoned to the 
 world the glittering fame of the South African 
 Gold Fields. Whereupon, as though conjured 
 by the wand of a magician, appeared the wonder- 
 ful city of Johannesburg. A city set like a 
 dust-covered gem in the bosom of the great 
 plateau. 
 
 Truly a city of Dust, Dogs, and Men. A 
 city of startling incongruities. Dubbed by the 
 pioneer diggers 'The Camp.' There amber 
 ' Old Highland ' whisky flowed, the staple drink. 
 As plentiful I was going to say as water but 
 purer and better than the limpid element could 
 be found at that time in the Golden City. 
 
 The shadows of night were gathering adown 
 the west. They threw into brilliant relief the 
 silver disc of the new moon and her attendant star 
 fast sinking in the wake of the setting sun. 
 
 A narrow band of pale golden light flickered 
 for a brief spell in the shimmering after-glow. 
 Suddenly it swept below the purple horizon, 
 leaving behind a veil of darkness faintly tinged 
 by the yellow light of the moon. The warm 
 October evening grew chill and damp. A 
 thousand crickets tuned their even - song. 
 Lights gleamed like twinkling beacons, here
 
 A TAP ON THE WINDOW 3 
 
 and there, from Kafir hut and digger's cottage 
 on the mines along the reef. 
 
 A man rode leisurely over the road skirting 
 the outer edge of the reef. He was enjoying 
 the beauty of the sunset and the easy canter 
 of his horse across the springing veld. The 
 abrupt disappearance of the after-glow roused 
 him from his reverie and to the fact that the 
 evening was advancing. He had still a mile 
 of veld to cross before he entered ' The Camp ' 
 to meet an engagement to dine at six. 
 
 A light touch of the whip sent the horse 
 speeding along. Soon the bridge separating 
 the young suburb of Jeppes - Town from 
 Johannesburg was passed. There was still an 
 open space of veld to cross. Through this he 
 rode quickly, taking no heed of the many 
 transport waggons obstructing the way. He 
 took no note of the picturesque grouping of 
 the bullocks outspanned on either side, their 
 dark forms weirdly outlined against the light 
 of the family fire. He saw not the fat Boer 
 women and their Kafir servants preparing the 
 sundown meal. 
 
 The lights behind the red-curtained windows 
 of a canteen proclaimed that he had gained the 
 entrance of Commissioner Street. A short 
 distance ahead, on the opposite side of the
 
 4 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 road, suddenly flared the lights of the Theatre 
 Royal. The sight of these caused him to urge 
 the horse anew. He realised that the hour 
 of six was merging into seven. 
 
 The street before him was long and wide. 
 The roadway extended from one side to the 
 other. It was guiltless of side-walk or paving 
 stones. A slow-going municipality had not 
 yet provided this marvellous city with street 
 lamps, drainage, or water. 
 
 Deep holes in the mud road caused the 
 horse to stumble frequently. The lights of 
 the New Rand Club pierced the darkness, 
 and just saved horse and rider from many a 
 dangerous rut. Some distance away the dark- 
 ness was again relieved by the brilliant rays 
 from some hotel lamp. Anon a friendly glow 
 from a bar-room averted a collision with a 
 Cape cart, whose cabby had neglected to 
 light up. 
 
 The man reined in his horse at the end of 
 the street before the stoop of a long, one- 
 storied hotel. It occupied the upper left-hand 
 corner, and commanded a view of the entire 
 length of Commissioner Street. 
 
 A spacious verandah, commodiously fitted 
 with cosy little tables, wicker chairs, and settees, 
 surrounded the two sides of the building facing
 
 A TAP ON THE WINDOW 5 
 
 the street. It was illumined by hanging lamps. 
 The usual motley crowd of men who occupied 
 the verandah had disappeared in the direction 
 of the dining-hall. Even the bar, which com- 
 municated with the verandah by a broad door 
 at one end, was deserted. 
 
 The man looked in every direction for a 
 Kafir boy to take charge of the horse. He 
 could see, through the open French windows 
 of the dining-room, the dinner in full swing. 
 Waiters, black and white, were scurrying to 
 and fro. Corks were flying. Trays borne 
 aloft, laden with steaming dishes. The long 
 tables were packed with diners, laughing, talk- 
 ing, and gorging. 
 
 No chance of getting a waiter, stable-boy, or 
 servant of any kind being evident, the man 
 turned the horse towards the opposite side of 
 the street. A covered passage, four or five feet 
 wide, gave access to the more private buildings 
 of the hotel. 
 
 These were called Percy Buildings. They 
 were curiously constructed. Built in one story 
 of corrugated iron, lined with planks of polished 
 timber, the buildings formed a square. In the 
 centre stood two rows of similar bungalows. 
 The space between these formed an unpaved 
 alley-way, eight feet wide. A narrow gutter 
 
 B
 
 6 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 ran through the middle, and served to carry off 
 the rain-water in the wet season. 
 
 The only entrance from the street to this 
 labyrinthine alley-way being the passage al- 
 ready described, it was often a matter of per- 
 plexity to a new lodger how to find his way 
 out. It was not an unusual thing for a belated 
 visitor to lose himself at night, and wander 
 round the bungalows a score of times, until 
 chance or an obliging tenant showed him the 
 passage to the street. 
 
 Another source of confusion was the simi- 
 larity of the doors and windows. This, through 
 the absence of lamps at night in* the alley-way, 
 occasioned ludicrous mistakes and strange en- 
 
 o 
 
 counters. It was a common occurrence for 
 some festive young Johnnie, to use a colloquial 
 term, returning from a drinking-bout, otherwise 
 called smoking concert, to try every door until 
 one was found to open beneath the key in his 
 unsteady fingers. The contretemps arising from 
 a mistake can be more easily imagined than 
 described. 
 
 Curious and inconvenient these chambers. 
 The sanitary arrangements on the most primi- 
 tive scale. An utter lack of privacy prevailed, 
 owing to the resounding properties of the wood- 
 panelled walls. The occupant of one room
 
 A TAP ON THE WINDOW 7 
 
 could hear his neighbour in the other cough, 
 sneeze or snore, and dream ! Here one was 
 chilled in winter or baked in summer. Still 
 people were content to pay a fabulous price for 
 such accommodation. 
 
 The man rode boldly into the passage. It 
 was customary for the occupants of the cham- 
 bers, likewise visitors, to tether their horses in 
 the alley-way. Consequently, the man rode 
 straight in, trusting to the clatter of the animal's 
 hoofs to warn foot passengers of his approach. 
 
 He turned to the right of the passage, and 
 then to the left, cautiously guiding his horse to 
 the end. From the window of the last bungalow 
 shone a soft rosy glow. Reining up, he gave a 
 tap on the window with his riding-whip. 
 
 The door was thrown open. A flood of 
 light streamed across the footway. The horse 
 started. The movement brought him before 
 the door. It revealed the rider to the tall, 
 white-robed woman standing on the threshold. 
 
 The man doffed his broad-brimmed digger's 
 hat. The light fell on his smiling face and 
 drooping golden moustache. He was hand- 
 some and manly enough to be the pride of 
 any woman. So thought the woman standing 
 in the doorway. 
 
 " Ah, Hector dear, at last you have come ! "
 
 8 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 Her tone was low and caressing. Her eyes 
 shone with greeting. She stepped out and 
 gently stroked the glossy neck of the horse. 
 
 " Yes, Ariadne, here I am. Sorry to have 
 kept you waiting. There was not a sign of a 
 Kafir over the way. So I rode in." 
 
 He gave the animal a pat. He caught in his 
 the soft hand rubbing the horse. Drawing near, 
 she drooped her head. Her cheek brushed the 
 man's knee. 
 
 " Oh," she murmured, " I am so glad you 
 are here. I have been so lonely." 
 
 The man laughed softly. 
 
 " Get down, dear, and come in. Jacobs will 
 be here presently. He'll off- saddle the horse 
 for you. He has been here twice with the menu 
 for dinner." 
 
 A short man, with a good-natured face, 
 appeared at the further end of the alley. 
 Observing the horse before the door, he hur- 
 ried forward, shuffling his big, clumsy velschoen 
 in the sandy gravel. 
 
 Hector dismounted, and threw the rein to 
 the servant. 
 
 " Take the horse to the stable. I want him 
 put up for the night. Then come for the 
 dinner order. Be quick about it." 
 
 The man led the horse away. The pair
 
 A TAP ON THE WINDOW 9 
 
 entered the bungalow and closed the door. 
 The alley was once more given over to 
 darkness. 
 
 Within the room these two stood silent but 
 happy. They gazed into each other's eyes. 
 Her hands were folded on his breast. "One 
 whole week ! It has seemed an eternity. My 
 love ! " she said, slowly. 
 
 " Nay, Ariadne, it has not seemed so long 
 as that. And if it did, is it not worth the 
 waiting, these few hours when we shall be 
 together, eh ? " 
 
 He spoke in a half - teasing, tender tone. 
 He kissed the fair head resting on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " I have often thought and dreamed," look- 
 ing around the softly - lighted room, "of this 
 little nest many a time through the week 
 I say, how charming it appears to-night- and 
 also you, my bonnie bird ! " 
 
 "I'm glad you are pleased with the room, 
 dear," she said, ignoring her lover's pretty 
 compliment. " I had a windfall this week 
 in the unexpected sale of a story. I used 
 every penny of the cheque in finishing the 
 decorations of these rooms. Kathleen says 
 I am awfully, awfully extravagant ! Am I, 
 dear ? "
 
 io THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " Not a bit But I am afraid I shall get 
 into a row," he said, looking towards a door 
 leading to the inner room, "if your sister 
 hears me." 
 
 " Kathleen is not there. She has gone to 
 St Mary's to assist at some school function 
 distribution of prizes, I believe. We are to 
 have a tte-a-tete dinner for once. Now was 
 it not good of her ? " 
 
 "Oh yes! good old Kathleen." 
 
 " Hector, Hector ! " She placed her hand 
 over his mouth. " I will not permit frivolous 
 slang be warned." 
 
 "No? Beg pardon." He pressed the dear 
 fingers to his lips. " May I be allowed to call 
 you a barbarian ? " 
 
 " Barbarian ? " queried Ariadne, in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, a very fascinating barbarian," answered 
 Hector, with a quizzical smile. " A charming 
 barbarian, who turns her pretty room into a 
 wigwam worthy of a Sioux princess." 
 
 "You big tease," said Ariadne, giving the 
 golden moustache a gentle tug, " I'll forgive 
 you for comparing my room to an ugly wig- 
 wam, if you will say that you admire the 
 covering of those unsightly planked walls and 
 ceiling." 
 
 " I like it immensely. You have made it
 
 A TAP ON THE WINDOW n 
 
 very artistic. The leopards adorning the four 
 corners of the ceiling are stunning enough to 
 shoot. What an original you are ! I don't 
 think one woman in a thousand would have 
 the pluck to be such an original, eh ? " 
 
 " Don't talk nonsense, Hector. Sit in this 
 cosy chair I bought that lion's skin for your 
 use alone while I get you a cigarette." 
 
 " Of what are you thinking?" said Ariadne. 
 He was puffing away and staring abstractedly 
 at the yellow eyes and black muzzle of a 
 leopard ! 
 
 " I was trying to ' kalculate,' as the Yankees 
 say," said Hector, with a twinkle in his eye, 
 "how many thousand words it took to buy all 
 those karosses, rugs, and shields. You tell me 
 that it's a guinea for " 
 
 "Hector! you are really as unreasonable as 
 Kathleen. I bought the whole lot, shields and 
 all, from an old Swazie for a few pounds I 
 shall be vexed in a minute." 
 
 "There, there, little one," answered Hector, 
 soothingly, " I am only teasing again. It's the 
 prettiest room in the Rand. Those skins will 
 come in very useful when we buy a waggon 
 and bullocks, and go to Swazieland or Mata- 
 beleland on our wedding tour." 
 
 Ariadne hid her face on his breast. She did
 
 12 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 not see how grave his face had grown. His 
 voice was low and tender as he touched the 
 coils of her shining hair. 
 
 One of the charms of this young Englishman 
 was his voice. Every tone of it thrilled 
 Ariadne, till she often wondered which she 
 loved, the man or his voice. The indescribable 
 tenderness of that voice now speaking of their 
 marriage, swept her heart with a thrill almost 
 painful in its joy. 
 
 After a time Ariadne talked softly of the 
 projected wedding trip. He listened and gazed 
 through the rings of smoke from his cigarette. 
 The candles burned with mellow light in their 
 sconces against the skins on the wall. They 
 shone on the manuscript-strewn table. A bull- 
 pup, hideous in the perfection of breed, lay 
 beneath the table on a bed of tiger skins. The 
 brute catching his eye, lazily arose to lick 
 Hector's hand, and then returned as lazily to 
 its dozing. 
 
 Hector's eyes roamed over the luxurious 
 appointments of the room. It was resplendent 
 with as many costly articles of furniture and 
 draperies as the small space would admit. The 
 air was redolent with the sweetness of a score 
 of Indian bowls laden with violets of Pretoria. 
 Ariadne had evidently neglected none of the
 
 A TAP ON THE WINDOW 13 
 
 shops in her search for rare and beautiful things 
 to embellish this pretty boudoir. Hector's gaze 
 fell on the little round table opposite. Damask, 
 sparkling silver, and tinted glasses, all looked 
 exquisitely inviting in the glow of the silk- 
 shaded candelabra. 
 
 His lips tightened as he contrasted that dainty 
 table with the rough-and-ready service of his 
 manage at the mine. There metal cutlery took 
 the place of silver, iron ware that of china. 
 The unpainted deal board that of the shining 
 damask. The only ornament thereon being 
 the indispensable whisky bottle, and its atten- 
 dant syphon of soda. There the yellow light 
 of a smoky lamp spluttered and shone in lieu of 
 the aesthetic glow of wax candles. 
 
 For the first time a pang of doubt smote 
 Hector's heart. He realised how little he had 
 to offer Ariadne in exchange for those pretty 
 luxuries. It might be long before he could offer 
 her that little as it was. The week of absence 
 had been one of difficulties and perplexities. 
 And the future it looked very dark. 
 
 " Bah ! " he thought, " away with forebod- 
 ings ; I'll put the state of things to her squarely. 
 I love her too much to be capable of deciding. 
 She has grown into the very marrow of my 
 heart. She shall decide. But if it should be
 
 14 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 God ! it could not be. One way or another 
 she shall decide." 
 
 " Kiss me, Ariadne," he cried aloud. 
 
 She did not know the bitterness underlying 
 that kiss.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A KNOCK at the door announced the return of 
 Jacobs, who entered the room bearing a silver 
 dish laden with fruit. He placed it on the 
 table. Then with an air of deference presented 
 the menu to Hector. 
 
 Jacobs was a waif drifted to the gold- 
 fields, how and when no man could tell. He 
 could not have told himself had he been asked. 
 Once there he found that a white man could 
 not possibly work with the Kafir diggers. Too 
 illiterate to obtain employment as a clerk, and 
 too weak to work as farm labourer or driver, the 
 poor wretch soon found himself on the verge of 
 starvation. One day he tried to earn a shilling 
 by holding the horse as Ariadne alighted at the 
 Bank. On coming out to remount, she found 
 the poor fellow in a faint. The exertion had 
 been too much for him. With a woman's ready 
 sympathy, Ariadne sent the unfortunate man to 
 the Nurses' Home. After a week's illness he 
 came to thank her for the kindness which had
 
 1 6 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 saved his life. Touched by the gratitude he 
 expressed, she engaged him as her special 
 servant. She paid him well, and raised him 
 from the slough of despair to the heaven of 
 content. 
 
 "There you are," said Hector, handing the 
 servant the menu, on which he had marked 
 with a pencil the dishes desired. 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said Jacobs. He scurried 
 away on his mission to the kitchens in the 
 main building across the street. 
 
 Ariadne resumed her place on a low seat 
 beside her lover. She rolled another cigarette, 
 and slipped her hand in his. Meanwhile he 
 smoked in silence. 
 
 Their hearts were full of that sweet sense of 
 confidence and companionship which constitutes 
 the truest and firmest bond between man and 
 woman the bond of intellectual sympathy. 
 It elevates human impulse and mere passionate 
 desire to the plane of spiritual enjoyment. The 
 soul dominates the senses. Silence becomes 
 more eloquent than words. 
 
 It is the invisible chain whereby a woman 
 holds in perpetual thrall her lover or her hus- 
 band. Without it the most alluring beauty 
 sooner or later palls. 
 
 These reflections passed through Hector's
 
 How THE SHAREHOLDERS' MONEY WENT 17 
 
 mind as he puffed silently. He knew the 
 woman sitting contentedly at his feet, so 
 assiduous of his comfort, even to the rolling 
 of his cigarette, possessed an intellect that 
 eclipsed the charm of her personality. She 
 was one of those women who would convert a 
 desert into a paradise for the man she loved. 
 
 "And now," he thought with something like 
 a curse, "poverty, damnable, ghastly poverty, 
 is the spectre that has arisen to drive her from 
 my side. It is bad enough to suffer the pangs 
 of being stoney broke. But the man who could 
 expect the woman he loved to share poverty 
 with him, is only fit to be " 
 
 " Dearest, dearest, you are crushing my 
 hand. Are you dreaming ? " 
 
 " Have I been asleep, little one ? did I hurt 
 this poor hand ? Let me kiss it." 
 
 " Ha ! Here's the dinner at last ! " he cried, 
 opening the door for the servant, with a great 
 show of alacrity, to effectually hide his emotion. 
 
 " Jacobs, you don't need to wire to announce 
 your approach ; your big velschoen shuffle loud 
 enough to be heard at the 'Jumpers'." 
 
 "Yes, Master Hector," answered Jacobs, 
 with a chuckle, as he placed the soup on the 
 table, and proceeded to uncork the wine, " I 
 know they do, but I had to hurry up, as I can't
 
 1 8 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 get a blooming Kafir to help bring the 
 dinner." 
 
 "That is unfortunate," observed Hector, as 
 he served the soup. 
 
 " It will finish the velschoen, but don't let 
 that trouble you. You shall have a new pair." 
 
 " Thank you, Master Hector. I hope you 
 and madame will excuse my shortcomings." 
 
 "Certainly, Jacobs," said Hector, as the 
 servant moved the empty soup plates. " But 
 you should have said longcomings, my man. 
 You have been a devilish long time serving 
 the dinner." 
 
 " What has happened ? " queried Ariadne. 
 There was an unusual expression on the 
 servant's face. 
 
 " Oh ! everything, madame," answered 
 Jacobs, glad to get a chance to talk of his 
 grievance. " There is an awful row on in the 
 kitchen. Jim, the head cook's two missisis 
 the young one, and the old one 
 
 " Jacobs, what are you saying ? " exclaimed 
 Ariadne with an air of seventy, although she 
 tried to suppress a smile. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, madame, and Master 
 Hector, but Jim is a Kafir, you know," Jacobs 
 explained as he served the fish. " Kafirs have 
 more wives I mean as many wives as they
 
 How THE SHAREHOLDERS' MONEY WENT 19 
 
 please. His two missisis got jealous. One's 
 a Fingoe, the young missus and came to have 
 it out with Jim, and themselves, and the whole 
 blooming lot of Kafirs working in the kitchen. 
 The young Kafirs liked the fun, and kept it 
 up between Jim and his missus until Mr 
 Bryant, the manager, brought in the constables 
 and gave the old missus in charge they 
 couldn't find the young one because 
 
 The usually staid and impassive Jacobs burst 
 into fits of laughter. 
 
 " Because the old missus ha ha ! chucked 
 the young missus ha ha ! into a big 
 bin of pickled pork ha ha ! The constables 
 carried the old woman off. Jim looked every- 
 where for the young one couldn't find her 
 but ha ha ! " 
 
 Here Jacobs went into paroxysms of laughter. 
 
 " When I was crossing the road just now, I 
 nearly dropped tray and all, for what should I 
 see right before me but a bin ha ha ! on two 
 black legs ha ha ! running up Commissioner 
 Street like mad ha ha ! " 
 
 Jacobs shuffled away to fetch the remainder 
 of the courses. He took good care, however, 
 to turn into the alley on the opposite side of the 
 bungalows to have his laughter out. 
 
 " How very ridiculous ! " said Ariadne, when
 
 2O THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 she had recovered from the effect of the ser- 
 vant's inimitable description. "Jacobs is really 
 too comical. I have heard nothing so funny for 
 a long time." 
 
 "He would make a capital clown. You had 
 better recommend him to Frank Fillis." 
 
 " A good suggestion, dear ; I shall bear it 
 in mind. On second thoughts, I might recom- 
 mend Jacobs to our popular actress. She prides 
 herself on having only 'gentlemen actors' in 
 her company." 
 
 " Nonsense ; she would not refuse Jacobs, 
 provided he proved to be a genius. You know, 
 the man that built the theatre in which she per- 
 forms is not ashamed to own that he was once a 
 stevedore." 
 
 "Not now ; that was when he was poor. 
 When one is rich it makes all the difference in 
 the world." 
 
 " You are right ; it makes all the difference in 
 the world." 
 
 " Why do you repeat my words so sadly ? 
 What troubles you ? " said Ariadne tenderly, as 
 she arose from her chair and put her arms 
 round his neck. 
 
 " Nothing. Sit down, little one. I hear those 
 velschoen of Jacob's flapping along the alley." 
 
 " Won't you tell me ? "
 
 How THE SHAREHOLDERS' MONEY WENT 21 
 
 "Not now, dear not now." 
 
 Ariadne resumed her seat. The rest of the 
 meal passed quickly. Jacobs removed the dishes, 
 and arranged the salver of fruit in the centre of 
 the table. With the instinct of an observing, 
 faithful servant, he saw that his mistress was 
 impatient to have him go. He hurriedly 
 opened the champagne and filled the glasses. 
 
 " Place the wine on the table also the coffee. 
 I will serve it." 
 
 The servant obeyed. He fidgeted about the 
 room, anxious for an opportunity to apologise 
 to his mistress. He imagined he had offended 
 her. 
 
 "You may go, Jacobs," said Ariadne, ap- 
 parently ignoring his uneasiness. " You will 
 not be needed again." 
 
 " Thank you, madame." Then he left the 
 room, closing the door very softly. Outside he 
 paused a moment. 
 
 "It's them beastly velschoen as has made all 
 the trouble," he muttered. " I'll never wear the 
 damned things again." 
 
 Taking off the obnoxious shoes, and tucking 
 them under his arm, he sped down the dark 
 alley in his naked feet. 
 
 " Poor Jacobs, he thinks I am angry with 
 him." 
 
 c
 
 22 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " I believe," said Hector, listening, " that he 
 has taken off those velschoen." 
 
 "Very likely," answered Ariadne, with a 
 smile. "He would take off his head if he 
 thought it annoyed me to see it on his 
 shoulders poor grateful soul." 
 
 "Ha!" said Hector, with a sigh of satis- 
 faction, after drinking his wine, "that's capital 
 fiz ! I say, this is not like famine, is it, little 
 one ? Let me fill your glass ! Now drink 
 to me, dearest and sweetest of women, drink 
 to me ! " 
 
 Lifting the glass of pale sparkling wine to 
 her lips, Ariadne pressed a kiss on the rim, and 
 held it to her lover. 
 
 "You drink first," she said gaily, "and then 
 I'll know your thoughts." 
 
 " God pity me, little one," answered the man, 
 with a sudden gravity. " I fear they would not 
 make you happy." 
 
 Ariadne replaced the glass on the table. She 
 looked steadily at him. Her face blanched as 
 she saw his eyes cast down as though to avoid 
 her gaze. 
 
 " Hector ! " Her voice shook in spite of her 
 efforts to steady it. " What do you mean 
 what has happened ? " 
 
 " Everything has happened that should not."
 
 How THE SHAREHOLDERS' MONEY WENT 23 
 
 He tried to speak lightly. He still avoided 
 those violet eyes. 
 
 " Everything has gone wrong, the mine is in 
 a fearful muddle, and " 
 
 " Hector, look at ^me. Is it only the mine ? 
 Speak." 
 
 " My love ! My precious little one ! " cried 
 Hector, excitedly. " You don't think that of 
 me. You surely don't think I could be untrue 
 to you let my heart stray to another woman 
 for one instant ? " 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad ! " sobbed Ariadne. " I 
 am so glad it's only the mine I thought 
 
 " You must not think about it any more, my 
 darling, but drink your champagne like a sen- 
 sible little woman, while I tell you how things 
 stand." 
 
 " Thank God the ice is broken," thought 
 Hector. He refilled the glass Ariadne in her 
 agitation had spilled over the table. "It will be 
 easier to tell her all now." 
 
 " As I was saying a few minutes ago this 
 does not look like famine," began Hector, help- 
 ing Ariadne to some fruit. " You have no idea 
 how difficult a matter it is to obtain food for 
 our men at the mine. If the drought continues, 
 we shall be obliged to half starve them. Work 
 will be stopped. It will be necessary to aban-
 
 24 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 don the batteries, unless water becomes plen- 
 tiful very soon." 
 
 " Then the situation is indeed becoming 
 serious ? " 
 
 "It is indeed. I very much fear there is 
 a bad look - out for Johannesburg. If the 
 drought continues, there is a possibility of 
 rioting among the natives employed in the 
 various mines. Should they make a raid on 
 the ' Camp ' in search of food, a rough time 
 would ensue." 
 
 Here Hector paused and frowned thought- 
 fully. Ariadne gave a little shiver ; an icy wind 
 seemed to chill the perfumed air of the cosy 
 room. 
 
 " Don't let me alarm you, dearest," Hector 
 exclaimed, affecting an easy, smiling manner 
 he did not feel. " Fortune has beamed too 
 long on the Rand to fear any real danger to 
 its prosperity. An outbreak among the Kafirs 
 could be easily subdued. For, after all, the 
 poor devils are as easily managed as children, 
 when not frenzied by drink. I am a duffer to 
 frighten you in this manner. Come, don't 
 think of it. Eat your grapes ; I'll not speak of 
 it again." 
 
 " I am not frightened, Hector. Not one bit 
 as far as a Kafir outbreak is concerned. But I
 
 How THE SHAREHOLDERS' MONEY WENT 25 
 
 feel an indefinable foreboding of sorrow. I 
 wish you would tell me the truth, at once. 
 Don't spare me. I have stood face to face 
 with trouble many a time since since he died. 
 I always make up my mind to expect the worst. 
 Now tell me truthfully how things stand. 
 What is your trouble ? " 
 
 "Well," began Hector rather awkwardly, as 
 it went against the grain so to speak to 
 discuss his business with a woman, and this 
 woman above all, "Well the fact of the matter 
 is things connected with the mine are un- 
 fortunately not exactly as they should be. 
 Money is needed to go on with. The pressure 
 is getting too much for the pockets of the 
 Syndicate. Shares are not selling as expected. 
 Men are becoming chary of parting with funds 
 just now. The confidence of speculators in 
 Reef property has been terribly shaken. The 
 revelations of the scandalous manner in which 
 the shareholders' money has been squandered 
 at the 'White Rose,' is doing all the harm." 
 
 " The ' White Rose ' ! Is that not a neigh- 
 bour of yours ? " 
 
 "Yes, it is near our property." 
 
 " And what is this scandal ? " 
 
 " The story is not any too short for its own 
 credit. It has been well ventilated by the
 
 26 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 Planet this afternoon. I have a copy with 
 me, and a nice tale it tells, I assure you. Mis- 
 management and trickery seem to have been 
 running wild. Possessing the richest bit of 
 ground on the Reef, the company has drifted 
 into a virtual state of bankruptcy." 
 
 " Impossible ! " 
 
 "Yes, it is true. The only way out of the 
 difficulty was to secure additional capital at 
 once. Those who furnished the money, very 
 wisely stipulated that the direction of affairs 
 should be placed in responsible hands. One of 
 the most reliable and experienced men in the 
 business was selected as director. The first 
 steps he took to set things straight resulted in 
 the discovery of a most deplorable state of 
 affairs. To use strong language, the previous 
 management turned out to be a damnable 
 swindle." 
 
 " How very dreadful ! " 
 
 " Let me read the account in the Planet to 
 you, if it will not bore you ? " 
 
 " Not at all ; by all means let me hear it." 
 
 "It explains the whole nasty business better 
 than I could tell it. By Jove ! they don't spare 
 them either," said Hector, taking a newspaper 
 from his coat pocket. " I won't trouble you by 
 reading the beginning, as I have already ex-
 
 How THE SHAREHOLDERS' MONEY WENT 27 
 
 plained that. I'll go right to the account of the 
 exposure. ' At the time when the company 
 thus received its resuscitation,' >! he began, 
 " ' only a few weeks ago, the battery was 
 shut down, and the mine was in a parlous plight : 
 the stamps, ten head of Hornsby's, had in fact 
 been condemned as useless. The engine, a 
 sixteen-horse power compound, by the same 
 reputable makers, had been likewise thrown 
 aside. The plates had been cleaned up by the 
 Amalgamator, said to be the son of a distin- 
 guished professor of mineralogy in England 
 and presumably the battery was worth little or 
 nothing beyond the shed that covered it Mr 
 
 , the new manager, a practical, not an 
 
 ornamental man, quickly perceived, however, 
 that the final clean-up must have been a very 
 perfunctory sort of business, for he succeeded in 
 getting 1 80 ozs. off the plates ; that was not a 
 bad haul to start with. It then occurred to the 
 new management that it might be worth while 
 to test the tailings in a Berdan pan ; thirty tons 
 were accordingly put through, with the astound- 
 ing result that two hundred pounds of quick- 
 silver amalgam, containing nearly 100 ozs. of 
 gold, was taken from the bulk.' ' 
 
 "It reads like a fairy tale," said Ariadne. 
 
 " It does. But the worst is to follow.
 
 28 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 Listen. ' The next thing which occurred to 
 the mind of the new man was, that the battery 
 ought to be near the mine instead of a mile 
 or two away, and as it would be some time 
 before the complete delivery of a new thirty 
 head Sandy Croft, which had been ordered 
 by the former management, it might be worth 
 while to overhaul that with a view of ascer- 
 taining whether it was not in a serviceable 
 condition. The firm of engineers appealed to 
 the same that were getting out the thirty 
 stamps ridiculed the suggestion, vowed that 
 the repairs and removal would take a couple 
 of months and cost fifteen hundred pounds, and 
 that the battery would be worth nothing even 
 when the work was done.' 
 
 " Mark that, Ariadne. The company of 
 engineers repudiated the battery in toto. 
 'This,' continued Hector, 'was not the kind 
 of situation to please such- a man as the new 
 director, for he saw plainly enough that if some- 
 thing was not done quickly, the new capital 
 would be fooled and frittered away like the old, 
 and by the time the thirty stamps were up 
 with an undeveloped mine the company 
 would be once again aground. So he rejected 
 the advice of the mechanical engineers, and set 
 to work with his own men, and in his own way,
 
 How THE SHAREHOLDERS' MONEY WENT 29 
 
 with the result that the removal has been 
 effected in less than five weeks' time, that a 
 dam has been constructed, and the ten stamps 
 are now pounding away right merrily, worked 
 by one of the smartest and prettiest engines in 
 the Rand and all for the expense of less than 
 five hundred pounds.' Now, what do you think 
 of that, for a set of swindling engineers ! " 
 exclaimed Hector. 
 
 " Oh ! " answered Ariadne, with a little laugh. 
 " But they were caught nicely. I wonder how 
 they liked losing the chance of making a cool 
 thousand ! " 
 
 " They were quite willing to let it slip, no 
 doubt, sure as they were of a bigger profit on 
 the thirty stamps and new machinery. They 
 feathered their nests well between them, 
 director and all. But I must have another 
 glass of champagne. It makes my throat 
 dry. You know I am not much of a reader." 
 
 " Indeed, you read very well. Not any more, 
 thank you, dear," said Ariadne, as Hector was 
 about to refill her glass. 
 
 "And now for the last chapter of this extra- 
 ordinary story," said Hector, as he resumed 
 reading. " ' Lying about the mine were a 
 number of machinery cases, which the' new 
 director took to be the empty packages in
 
 30 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 which probably the original ten stamps had 
 come out. Examination, however, proved the 
 fact that they were full, and that their contents 
 were a fifteen stamp battery and a twenty-five 
 horse-power tandem, both made by Hornsby. 
 These, after being indented and paid for by 
 the shareholders' money, had been rejected as 
 worthless, without the packages being so much 
 as opened ; and, as already stated, a thirty-head 
 mill and a fifty-horse power Marshall's com- 
 pound engine had been ordered from Sandy 
 Crofts. So far as any one knows to the 
 contrary, these, the fifteen stamps and their 
 engines, were as good as ever left makers' 
 hands.' ' 
 
 " Simply disgraceful ! " ejaculated Ariadne. 
 
 "Worse, dear," said Hector, pausing for 
 breath, " it was simply criminal. Now hear 
 the summing-up of the editor on the whole vile 
 fraud he writes to the point. ' Anyway,' " he 
 continued, " ' the ten stamps are working to the 
 entire satisfaction of the new directorate, and it 
 is a sin and a shame, crying out for denuncia- 
 tion if not for practical vengeance upon those 
 concerned, that not only the interests of share- 
 holders, but the names and reputations of such 
 houses as Hornsby 's, should be at the mercy of 
 managers and directors, who can only escape
 
 How THE SHAREHOLDERS' MONEY WENT 31 
 
 the devil of hopeless incompetence by falling 
 into the deep sea of infinitely worse. The 
 sins of omission and commission that have 
 been perpetrated at the ' White Rose ' and its 
 immediate vicinity are enough to make the 
 angels weep.' 
 
 "How is that?" said Hector, looking over 
 the edge of the page at Ariadne. 
 
 " Strong, very," she answered. 
 
 "Now for the gist of the matter," he ex- 
 claimed, as he resumed. "'It is clear that 
 there is one cure, and one only, for the evils 
 which are threatening to weigh the gold-mining 
 industry down. Companies must be so consoli- 
 dated as to admit of economical working, and of 
 its being possible to employ really competent 
 and qualified men. Exit the amateur engineer 
 and the director who directs in order that he 
 may draw the fees and have a better chance of 
 gambling in stock and the Witwatersrand will 
 breathe again.' 
 
 " And that is the way," cried Hector, starting 
 up as he flung the paper aside, " that the 
 hundreds of unsuspecting shareholders' money 
 goes ! And we, we," he went on excitedly, as 
 he strode the little room with springing step, 
 " we surfer for it we, the earnest, conscientious, 
 hard-working diggers, we who have earned the
 
 32 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 right to the name by years of experience, we 
 must go under, we incur the opprobrium of 
 distrust and suspicion, because a few mushroom 
 directors and mine managers are foisted on the 
 market by the unscrupulous so-called companies 
 in London ! 
 
 " It is such work as that recorded in this sheet 
 of the printer's devil, that, sooner or later, will 
 stop half the batteries, and shut down the mines. 
 In the face of such exposures and dirty business, 
 who could blame the shareholders for a with- 
 drawal of their confidence ? They are right. 
 I would not put one damned shilling in a mine 
 share myself if I heard such things. Johannes- 
 burg is going to the dogs, as sure as the sun rises 
 to-morrow. This is the work that will do it. 
 We don't want the moneyed speculator and his 
 partner. 
 
 " If the honest men are left in peace to 
 work for the ultimate good of all concerned, 
 there is gold enough in the Transvaal for 
 the whole of Britain ! "
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 POVERTY TRIES THE DOOR BUT LOVE LOCKS 
 HIM OUT. 
 
 " DON'T despair ! " exclaimed Ariadne, as 
 Hector sank into a chair. " Things cannot be 
 as bad as you imagine. I am sure everything 
 will turn out for the best." 
 
 " For the best no, no, it's all up with me, 
 the worst has come." 
 
 " The worst ! " echoed Ariadne. 
 
 "Yes, I'm a ruined man, Ariadne a ruined 
 man. I've lost every penny I possessed in this 
 world." 
 
 "Oh, Hector!" 
 
 " I don't regret the money. I am young 
 enough and strong enough to make it all back 
 again. But you you," he faltered out hoarsely, 
 " it will cost me you, my darling. It will be like 
 tearing out my heart to do it but I shall have 
 to let you go ! " 
 
 Ariadne made no reply. Surprise held her 
 dumb. The news of Hector's ruin was trivial 
 compared to the blow he dealt by acknow-
 
 34 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 ledging his willingness to give her up. The 
 shock aroused all Ariadne's pride. Her heart 
 turned against the poor fellow blurting out his 
 misery awkwardly, incoherently into her ear. 
 
 He was too much absorbed in his wretched 
 anxiety to tell her all, and have it over with, 
 to notice her coldness and silence. He had but 
 a humble opinion of himself this splendid, 
 sturdy fellow, who could hold his own with any 
 man. He trembled before this woman's frown, 
 like an oak whose leaves rustle tumultuously 
 beneath a passing summer storm. 
 
 He did not think that such a woman could 
 or would make any sacrifice for him ; the 
 thought she loved him for his manliness, his 
 generous, noble nature, never entered his head. 
 There was no subtlety in his composition. He 
 comprehended only the straightforwardness of 
 action. He could risk his life in the depths of 
 a mine fight a refractory Zulu, or kill a lion ; 
 but he could no more analyse a woman's feel- 
 ings than a baby. He did not comprehend the 
 fierce pain in his heart. He took for regret 
 what was in reality the struggle for mastery 
 between his love and himself. 
 
 " Yes, little one, I must give you up. You 
 will marry a better man than I am and 
 here he almost broke down " one that is not
 
 POVERTY TRIES THE DOOR 35 
 
 such a duffer as I have been, to squander his 
 money away and lose his chance of marrying 
 the sweetest woman on God's blessed earth. 
 But I love you, Ariadne, as long as there is a 
 breath of life in my body ! And it will make 
 me happy when I know that you you belong 
 rightfully to a man that can give you such 
 pretty luxuries as these, that you are the wife 
 of a good man who will cherish and protect 
 you my bright beautiful darling ! " 
 
 Ariadne sat motionless at his feet. She gave 
 no word or sign of what was passing in her 
 mind. He looked sadly at the bowed head, 
 and thought, with a sigh, how much more 
 quietly she was taking things than he had 
 expected. After all it was better so. Had he 
 ever been worthy of her ? No ! 
 
 " I have led a wild rough life since I came to 
 South Africa," began Hector, looking at the 
 drooping head, not daring to touch it. " Twelve 
 years ago I want to tell you about it, Ariadne, 
 in order that you may be able to judge for 
 yourself how unworthy I am. May I ? " 
 
 She answered by a nod of assent. 
 
 " Thank you, little one. It is just twelve 
 years ; since then I have squandered two for- 
 tunes. I deserve to suffer for it now. One 
 fortune I brought with me when I left England
 
 36 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 a headstrong, reckless boy of twenty-one. I 
 threw it away in two years of riotous living in 
 the Cape. The other I made in ostrich- 
 farming. In a few years I sent that the way 
 of the first. I drank, I gambled, I plunged 
 into every dissipation known to the wild set 
 with which I associated. Every manner and 
 kind of dissipation but one woman that is 
 the only sin I escaped. I have never wronged 
 a woman, not even a poor black one that I 
 solemnly swear to you." 
 
 For the first time since he had begun speak- 
 ing, Ariadne moved and silently placed her 
 hand in his. 
 
 " I don't want to make you think any better 
 of me, dear," he said, pressing the cold little 
 hand between his own. His voice trembled as 
 he continued his story. 
 
 "It was through no virtue of mine. I simply 
 couldn't, that is all. As for love ! Well, years 
 passed amid the rough scenes, the reckless life 
 of an ostrich-farmer and gold-digger obliterated 
 all trace of refinement. I abandoned the hope 
 or desire for a woman's love. I felt too 
 debased living a life of debauchery, sur- 
 rounded by half-savage Kafirs, with boon com- 
 panions as bad if not worse than myself to 
 think of love.
 
 POVERTY TRIES THE DOOR 37 
 
 " When I came to the camp three years ago, 
 there were no women. But as time went on, 
 things prospered, the booms began, the tent 
 shanties disappeared, houses arose, like mush- 
 rooms almost in a night. With the gold that 
 poured in, came women. Wives, sisters, and 
 sweethearts of the newcomers. They made 
 the camp gay with their afternoon teas, picnic 
 junketings, and dances. But I held aloof. I 
 was happier when boozing with the cricketers, 
 or working among my Kafirs at the mine, until 
 until you came. 
 
 " I loved you the moment I saw your sweet 
 smile the moment I heard your voice. I did 
 not care to know your past. I did not think of 
 who or what you were. I only thought of the 
 present. I was mad with the intoxication of 
 loving you. At first marriage never occurred 
 to me ; or if it did, it was only to be thrust 
 aside as a remote contingency. A humdrum 
 method of securing you, when the fascinating 
 edge of intimacy had dulled sufficiently to fit us 
 for the sober routine of married life. 
 
 " I wronged you, dear. I humbly confess it. 
 I might have wronged you more. Forgive me 
 for acknowledging it but I want you to know 
 how really bad I am. I would have wronged 
 you grievously had you been another woman, 
 
 D
 
 38 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 for I misjudged you deeply. But, when I found 
 that you were not the woman you seemed. A 
 woman of the world as alluring as a siren. As 
 heartless as you were fascinating, but that you 
 had a heart of gold. A mind as fair as a pearl, 
 and a life as clear as crystal, I resolved to marry 
 you. If you would have me. I grew wild to 
 make the money to buy the cage for my bonny 
 bird, a cage where the glamour of luxury would 
 hide the bars that fettered her. 
 
 " I grew wild, mad, and lost my head. I 
 staked my last thousand pounds, and, God help 
 me ! lost it all, little one, all. With it I have 
 lost you." 
 
 " Yes, Hector," faltered Ariadne, her voice 
 broken by sobs ; " but now," creeping into his 
 arms, "you have found me anew." 
 
 " No, no," he muttered hoarsely, as he 
 gently put her away from him, " I could never 
 subject you to the privations of a digger's life. 
 You to whom luxury and refinement is as 
 essential as the air you breathe. This is the 
 fitting nest for you," looking round the room. 
 "Not the brown earthen walls and ant-heap 
 floor of a mine-manager's hut ! " 
 
 Ariadne's sobs had ceased. She realised 
 he was in earnest. His very self-abnegation 
 proved how strong and deep was the love he
 
 POVERTY TRIES THE DOOR 39 
 
 bore her. She knew that mere sobs, tears, 
 caresses would not shake his generous deter- 
 mination. The only way to break down his 
 resolution was by the power of eloquence and 
 persuasive reasoning. 
 
 "You forget that," she said in a low voice, 
 pointing to the manuscript on the table. " With 
 that I can help you ! " 
 
 "Ah! God pity me! it's that which adds a 
 pain to my regret. That gift which you pos- 
 sess needs fostering. My hopes of your future 
 are too great to ruin them by binding you to a 
 poor devil like me. There ! " he cried, placing 
 his hand over her lips as she was about to 
 interrupt his words passionately, " I know what 
 you would say. You are noble enough to make 
 any sacrifice for me. But I shall not be the 
 one to let you throw away your future, as I 
 have done my fortune : never would I permit 
 it!" 
 
 " There was a time when you spoke very 
 differently." 
 
 " Yes, Ariadne, but that was, as I have just 
 told you, before I understood you, before I 
 loved you in the true sense of the word. Of 
 what avail is a man's love to a woman, if it does 
 not bring her good ? 
 
 " That which some men call love, is not love.
 
 4O THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 It is supreme selfishness ! Love is unselfish. 
 Love is sensitive of the honour of its object. 
 Love seeks to elevate, not drag down the 
 woman. But you know all this as well, if not 
 better than I do." 
 
 " Yes, I know all that you say is true," said 
 Ariadne, looking at him sadly. " A man's love 
 should bless the object of it with every good it 
 is in his power to bestow. But, Hector, there 
 are some things that money cannot buy. One 
 is hope. Another is the content which begets 
 happiness. Still another is the divine gift of 
 inspiration. You speak of my talent. You 
 say it needs fostering. You declare that you 
 have hopes of a future for that talent. That 
 you would rather die than destroy it. Oh, my 
 love ! do you not see that you are taking the 
 most effectual means of crushing those very 
 gifts by by depriving me of you ? " 
 
 " God ! " he cried brokenly, " help me to do 
 right. Ariadne, don't say those things ! Don't 
 look at me with those reproachful eyes. Have 
 pity, little one, for I am as weak as water in 
 my love for you." 
 
 " Listen, Hector. The gifted women are the 
 women who need the support of man's love far 
 more than their less gifted sisters. You look 
 surprised. You do not believe me ! Then I
 
 POVERTY TRIES THE DOOR 41 
 
 will try to explain. The women who possess 
 brilliant talent, in fact, what is called genius of 
 any kind, are naturally exposed to criticism, to 
 admiration, to censure. Why ? Because her 
 exceptional talent isolates such a woman. Other 
 women rarely understand her. The few who 
 do, are not just to her. The poison of jealousy 
 blinds them to all good in her. They tremble 
 for the peace of brother, lover, or husband." 
 
 "Still," said Ariadne, after a pause, "there 
 are women who trust. These are so few and 
 far between, they are like the white milestones 
 that mark a long and weary road. On the 
 other hand, men are lavish in their admiration 
 and goodwill. Of what benefit is their appre- 
 ciation and good-fellowship, if it be the sort a 
 pure woman spurns, or a shrewd one rejects as 
 spurious ? Men love to be amused and inter- 
 ested. A clever woman is a source of infinite 
 diversion to them, be she singer, dancer, actress, 
 painter, or writer. Men are honest in their 
 praise, in the literal sense ; of that there can be 
 no doubt. Nevertheless, the majority would 
 not care to see Maude the petted sister, Ethel 
 the sweetheart, or the Missis suddenly develop- 
 ing into a genius. They would not care to hear 
 them discourse learnedly on politics and art. Do 
 anything above the average. Would they, dear ? "
 
 42 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " I am afraid you are right, little one." 
 
 " You acknowledge it ! Then you can under- 
 stand the position of a clever woman thrown, 
 without ballast or guide, like a captainless ship, 
 upon the rough sea of Life, where every man 
 is a pirate, and every woman's evil tongue a 
 rock on which to wreck her. Hector, the only 
 hope of the clever woman is the anchor of a 
 husband's love. Her safest port a husband's 
 fireside." 
 
 A mist gathered in Hector's eyes. His voice 
 was husky with emotion as he said, " Dearest, 
 do not weep. Every tear cuts me to the heart. 
 Be merciful ; teach me to be strong. You were 
 not made to be the wife of a poor man. A 
 beggarly digger." 
 
 " Hector ! my life, my love is yours. I might 
 have lived, content in my ambition, without 
 love. Since I have known you I feel that is 
 impossible. Come what may, I cannot live 
 apart from you. My inspiration would be gone. 
 My dreams of success over. My work. Oh ! 
 
 it is too late too late to surrender love, and 
 
 
 you. 
 
 All this and more Ariadne passionately 
 pleaded. Hector felt his resolution vanquished 
 by her words. 
 
 " Was the love of such a woman to be cast
 
 POVERTY TRIES THE DOOR 43 
 
 aside ? " he thought. " What if another should 
 win the right to console her, to enjoy the sweet- 
 ness of her companionship, the mad joy of 
 loving her ! " 
 
 The very thought set Hector's blood afire 
 with jealousy. He yielded to the intoxicating 
 thought of what the full possession of her love 
 must be. Raising Ariadne's face he gazed into 
 her eyes. The love shining therein thrilled and 
 subdued him. 
 
 He kissed her hair, her brow, her lips, the 
 proud curve of her soft warm throat as he 
 whispered 
 
 "It shall be as you wish, little one. You shall 
 be a poor Digger's wife. God pity my weak- 
 ness. It is too late to be strong now."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 ARIADNE'S VISION 
 
 THE little silver clock, in its nook above the 
 book-shelves, had long since chimed the hour 
 of midnight. The candles in their sconces 
 were burned out. A heavy stillness hung over 
 the room, oppressive with the strong odour of 
 violets. The profound quiet was broken by 
 the hurried scratching of the pen. Ariadne wrote 
 rapidly, casting page after page into a satin- 
 lined basket on the table beside her. The soft 
 rays of the shaded lamp made a golden circle of 
 light on the sheets. It faintly reflected her face, 
 with its lines of deep thought. 
 
 The indefinable charm of expression that 
 softened her face while her lover was beside 
 her had disappeared. A mask had fallen over 
 her beauty. A mask with compressed lip and 
 meditative eye. It revealed the woman of 
 vigorous mind. One on whom Fate had wan- 
 tonly bestowed the form of a woman with the 
 intellect and resolute will of the man. This 
 combination is not usually attractive in woman.
 
 ARIADNE'S VISION 45 
 
 It rendered Ariadne more fascinating, as she 
 knew how to veil the masculine tenor of her 
 mind under an assumption of feminine meek- 
 ness. Men admire women of genius, but 
 treasure them more as an Edition de hixe. 
 They rarely regard them as convenient pocket 
 editions of wife for the humdrum enjoyment of 
 every-day life. 
 
 Wise women conceal wit and imagination 
 beneath a cover of simplicity. They assume 
 a desire for the flatteries which men find 
 pleasure in bestowing, and ordinary women in 
 receiving. It makes life more comfortable. 
 Ariadne thought all this as she laid down her 
 pen and neatly arranged the sheets of manu- 
 script in the basket. Then she arose with a 
 sigh of relief. 
 
 She gazed in tender reverie on the vacant 
 chair by the table. A half-consumed cigar- 
 ette lay beside it. She took up the weed and 
 kissed it. 
 
 "Good-night, dear empty chair," she whis- 
 pered, "you have held him in your arms but 
 I am not jealous ; good-night ! " 
 
 Taking up the lamp, she passed out, leaving 
 the room to solitude and darkness. 
 
 The chamber she entered was curiously ar- 
 ranged, the tent-like style of the adjoining
 
 46 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 room being carried out in this. Skins covered 
 the floor, likewise the walls and ceiling. 
 Doors and windows were hung with draperies 
 of amber-silk. The elegant modern dressing- 
 table, the cheval-glass, the handsome furniture, 
 was in strange contrast to the barbaric display 
 of skins. 
 
 Some women individualise their surround- 
 ings. Ariadne was one of that class. She left 
 on the most trivial of her belongings the stamp 
 of her originality. If there is any truth in the 
 mysterious doctrine of reincarnation, Ariadne 
 had been a Savage, an Oriental, as she was 
 now a Christian. To the first she owed the 
 instinct of the savage developed in her extra- 
 ordinary love of wild animals. The contact of 
 the skin of the lion or leopard thrilled her sense 
 of touch with an enjoyment as keen as that of a 
 savage. 
 
 From the Oriental she derived her worship 
 of light. Her love of vivid colouring. A for- 
 gotten sense of sensuality awoke in her enjoy- 
 ment of sweet odours. The perfume of the 
 hookah, the pungent vapour of incense burn- 
 ing constantly in its silver censer, made her 
 think and dream better, so she would tell 
 Kathleen, when her sister protested against the 
 stifling fragrance of the tiny rooms.
 
 ARIADNE'S VISION 47 
 
 " I have no doubt, dear, but what I was 
 once on a time a sinful old Turk," she would 
 say when Kathleen found her buried in silken 
 cushions, with the amber mouthpiece of the 
 hookah between her lips, scarcely visible 
 through the smoke. 
 
 " Don't be shocked, sister mine, I am draw- 
 ing inspiration" waving a bit of manuscript 
 gaily. " Behold the result." 
 
 The Christian reincarnation saved her from 
 sinking to the plane of a voluptuary. An early 
 religious training held in check those strange 
 inclinations half savage, half sybarite seeking 
 a subtle mastery over her. 
 
 Religion was to her an ideal. There she 
 worshipped the Beautiful. The ivory image of 
 the crucified God hung by her bed. Before it 
 she murmured the poetical prayers of the Rosary 
 she worshipped the beauty of kind words, 
 good deeds, and heroism. 
 
 Ariadne stretched herself out wearily on the 
 couch beside her sister. The rays of the night 
 lamp on the table near by shone soft and clear 
 over the pages of the little volume of sonnets 
 with which it was her custom to beguile sleep. 
 
 Presently the drooping lids closed over her 
 eyes. The book fell from her hand, and she 
 slumbered.
 
 4 8 
 
 The Spirit of dreams stole into the room and 
 stood beside Ariadne's pillow. He touched 
 her eyelids with his shadowy wand. Lo ! they 
 slowly opened. She saw not the dimly illumi- 
 nated room, the lion skin across her feet, nor 
 her own sleeping face reflected in the 'cheval- 
 glass opposite the bed. 
 
 No ; a wider, more mystical vision arose 
 beneath the magic wand of the Spirit of 
 dreams. 
 
 Her eyes opened on a strange wild scene. 
 She found herself standing alone on a slight 
 elevation above Johannesburg. 
 
 Its streets and squares, dotted with spires 
 and villas, and lined with shops, lay at her feet. 
 
 In the centre a great mass of people surged 
 around the Exchange Buildings, now trans- 
 formed to a glittering temple of gold. 
 
 She heard the ribald songs. 
 
 She heard the boisterous laughter of men 
 and women, as they thronged to and fro in wild 
 frenzy. 
 
 They were of every nation, clime, and 
 colour. 
 
 Some were strangers. 
 
 Others there were whose faces she knew. 
 
 The millionaire-broker cheek by jowl with the 
 smooth-faced priest.
 
 ARIADNE'S VISION 49 
 
 The bloated gin-purveyor hand in hand with 
 the smug-faced jockey. 
 
 The staid municipal official elbowing the 
 illicit canteen-keeper. 
 
 Diggers and athletes. 
 
 Actors and barmaids. 
 
 Wives and mothers, and young maidens. 
 
 Doctors, policemen, tradesmen, clerks, and 
 labourers. 
 
 All mad with the thirst of greed. 
 
 Drunk with the wine of gold. 
 
 The very dust of the street glittered in the 
 hot blaze of the noontide sun, so laden was 
 it with gold. 
 
 Gold was everywhere. 
 
 The people fought for it, some gleefully, 
 some sullenly. 
 
 The women dug it from the road with their 
 slender fingers, and thrust it into their bosoms. 
 
 The men tore it madly from the women. 
 Their breasts were crushed and bleeding 
 thereby. 
 
 Others snatched up the gleaming filth 
 swallowed it, choked to death in voracious haste. 
 
 Anon, one more powerful than the rest 
 would build a mound of the magic soil. 
 
 He danced frantically on its top, till another 
 stronger still dethroned him.
 
 Some warily dug pits, burying themselves 
 out of sight in the yellow depths. 
 
 The flying hair of the women, the bloodshot 
 eyes of the men, grew tinged with the golden 
 hue. 
 
 Worn out with the struggle and riot, some 
 sank down for a brief rest. 
 
 Others still sang, and danced, and fought. 
 
 Suddenly a far-away shout of many voices 
 broke the seeming lull. 
 
 Ariadne raised her eyes. She looked in the 
 direction from whence the sound had come. 
 
 She beheld, swiftly approaching along the 
 western reef, what appeared to be a great mass 
 of yellow cloud. 
 
 The cloud, as it rolled nearer, resolved itself 
 into sparkling dust. In it could be faintly 
 discerned the forms of many men, they ges- 
 ticulating wildly as they ran. They pierced the 
 air with their cries. 
 
 Whether of joy or grief, the dreamer could 
 not tell. 
 
 On ! on ! rolled the glittering dust cloud. 
 
 It touched the outskirts of the golden city. 
 
 The roar of its voices startled the ear of the 
 crowd of men and women in the streets. 
 
 They turned their eyes towards the west r 
 from whence the crowd appeared.
 
 ARIADNE'S VISION 51 
 
 Then a mighty madness seemed to fall upon 
 them. 
 
 Wildly embracing one another, they clapped 
 their hands in glee. 
 
 They shouted one and all 
 
 "The Boom! 
 
 " The Boom ! ! 
 
 " The Boom ! ! ! " 
 
 Ariadne looked again at the great cloud. 
 
 Lo ! within its centre she beheld a wonderful 
 vision. 
 
 Riding a monster chariot of gold, appeared 
 a gigantic figure, half god, half man. 
 
 His naked body gleamed like polished gold. 
 
 Great wings of the same precious material 
 towered above his shoulders, and enveloped in 
 their lower ends his limbs and belly. 
 
 His face rivalled the sun in its glow. 
 
 A mane of hair, like spun gold, flowed from 
 beneath the crown on his head. 
 
 In one hand he carried a sceptre, fashioned 
 like unto a lash of a hundred tongues. 
 
 And every tongue dripped blood. 
 
 In the other hand he held the many reins 
 of golden ribbons, guiding the steeds of his 
 chariot. 
 
 The steeds that drew him were Men ! 
 
 The dreamer uttered a cry of horror as she
 
 52 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 beheld their bleeding, crushed and broken 
 bodies. 
 
 One fell in the traces. The great wheels of 
 the chariot crushed his fallen body. 
 
 In an instant a hundred of the shouting crowd 
 rushed forward, fighting, killing one another, 
 in their struggle to take the place of the 
 vanquished one. 
 
 Meanwhile the Rider laughed long and 
 furiously, cutting and blinding his human 
 steeds with the hundred tongues of his golden 
 lash. 
 
 The great chariot was laden with gold. 
 
 It teemed over the sides. It fell along the 
 road, to rise again in sparkling dust under the 
 tramp of many feet. It was caught by the 
 eager hands of the wildly-pursuing crowd. 
 
 For the sight of the golden treasure of the 
 chariot blinded the maddened throng to the gold 
 beneath their feet. 
 
 The farmer forsook his plough. The shep- 
 herd his flock. 
 
 The mines yielded up their diggers at the 
 sound of the chariot wheels of the Spirit of the 
 Boom. 
 
 Soon the dreamer beheld the cloud sweep 
 through the streets of Johannesburg. The 
 great Spirit of the Boom laughed furiously as
 
 ARIADNE'S VISION 53 
 
 he cast his golden load among the multitude. 
 He lashed all the while right and left with his 
 flail. He goaded them on again and again to 
 gather it up till the men and women were 
 glutted with his treasure. 
 
 And then began a scene of fearful debauch. 
 
 Every sin and crime born in the lap of idle 
 gold stalked forth. 
 
 The wine flowed, now red, now amber, in 
 torrents wherein the multitude drank, and 
 laved, and wallowed like swine. 
 
 Lust roamed forth, unchecked, and held high 
 carnival. 
 
 Wilder and more furious, more hideously 
 unlicensed, grew the whirlwind of debauch. 
 
 Finally an awful rage seized upon the 
 multitude. 
 
 In their delirium they turned on each other, 
 fighting one another with tooth and nail, till 
 the streams of wine were tinged with blood, 
 and the gold grew red beneath the flow. 
 
 And all the while the Spiritof the Boom laughed 
 uproariously as he lashed them into fresh excesses. 
 
 His demoniac mirth shook the great chariot 
 with peals of glee. 
 
 Turning her eyes from the dreadful fight of 
 Lust and Gold, the dreamer beheld afar a 
 swollen tide of waters. 
 
 E
 
 54 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 Slowly the waves rose and fell, rolling one 
 over the other, as they surged towards the 
 unconscious city. 
 
 She saw the waters advance inch by inch, 
 foot by foot, nearer and nearer still. 
 
 Black in the distance like the mouth of a 
 pit. As the tide crept on, now red, now 
 yellow, again gleaming silvery, phosphorescent, 
 changing to a sea of varied hues as the waters 
 swept the streets, enveloping in its embrace the 
 feet of the multitude. 
 
 Its damp contact cooled their heated passions, 
 cleared their brains, sodden with debauchery. 
 
 The Spirit of the Boom spread his great 
 wings as the waters swept the city, and soared 
 away. 
 
 Soon he and the chariot of gold was lost 
 to view ! 
 
 When the multitude beheld the flight of their 
 God, a great silence fell upon them. 
 
 They gazed on one another in mute despair. 
 
 But their apathy was soon turned to horror 
 as they beheld their treasures disappearing 
 beneath the many-coloured flood of waters. 
 
 In an agony of terror they felt the rising 
 waters envelop them. 
 
 Then they broke forth in wild cries of 
 lamentation.
 
 ARIADNE'S VISION 55 
 
 Higher, still higher surged the waters. 
 
 Frantically the men sought for escape, piling 
 the bodies of the dead and helpless women one 
 upon the other, as they had piled the gold. 
 
 Then they sprang upon the human mound in 
 their frantic struggle for life. 
 
 But the water ruthlessly swept on and up. 
 It swallowed them one after the other. 
 
 It stifled their prayers and shrieks. 
 
 It stiffened their frenzied bodies. 
 
 Soon the loathsome flood was seething with 
 the dead and dying. 
 
 The tide insinuated its clammy fangs into the 
 foundations of the Exchange. The dreamer 
 beheld the glittering edifice totter, then slowly 
 sink into the jaws of therollingand surging waters. 
 
 Then a voice broke the silence hanging over 
 the submerged city. 
 
 It fell on the ear of the dreamer. 
 
 In solemn tones it proclaimed 
 
 " Behold ! the river of Famine, Fever, and 
 Death that shall sweep clean the garments of 
 Sin and Greed that clothe yon hapless city. 
 
 " The lust of gold hath wrought its ruin." 
 
 And then, as a wave of the hideous flood 
 touched the feet of the dreamer, with a great 
 cry for help, Ariadne awoke.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE IN DOORNFONTEIN 
 
 IT was a simple little dwelling, the home of a 
 bevy of the most popular bachelors in the camp. 
 Despite its unassuming appearance, it attracted 
 the attention and speculation of every young 
 belle in Doornfontein. 
 
 It was located in the most modest quarter 
 of that growing suburb, in a lane, not yet 
 dignified by the name of street. Here was 
 the newly - erected Doornfontein Club. A 
 building which would have puzzled the brain 
 of the wisest of architects in search of a name 
 to catalogue its heterogeneous style. Cupola, 
 minaret, and moresque-latticed portico, savoured 
 of the Orient Gable, belfry, and turreted win- 
 dows imparted a flavour of Old English. A 
 noble verandah spanning one side of the build- 
 ing gave the building just the necessary African 
 aspect. 
 
 This fantastic structure was supposed to have 
 been planned under the supervision of one of 
 the club members, a wealthy Turk, He dressed
 
 THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE 57 
 
 faultlessly in the European mode, looked like 
 one of the better class of the Chosen People, 
 and entertained lavishly in his mansion within a 
 stone's throw of the club. 
 
 * The Harem,' as this quaint mansion was 
 chaffingly dubbed, bore out the character of 
 its soubriquet in the latticed windows, trellised 
 porticoes, and domed minaret surmounted by 
 the crescent. It might have been a wing of 
 some palace transported from the shores of the 
 Bosphorus and dropped haphazard on this un- 
 pretentious site. 
 
 Within easy walking distance of the Harem, 
 another of the fine villas gracing this suburb 
 might be seen. This was the abode of a 
 genial but shrewd American. He retired on 
 a fortune made in the palmy days of the Camp. 
 A fortune made over the bar of the pioneer 
 hotel of Johannesburg, chiefly through the 
 thrifty business management of his dusky- 
 skinned, brilliant-eyed wife. 
 
 This was a handsome building in the modern 
 style. It was built of brick. Every inch of 
 woodwork in the finishings, stairway, doors and 
 windows was, as the owner proudly remarked, 
 all of ' real American walnut,' and imported 
 regardless of expense. 
 
 The site had been originally an old Dutch
 
 58 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 farm. The primitive homestead was carefully 
 preserved, while the grounds were rich in 
 strawberry beds, graperies, orchards, and charm- 
 ing groves of fir and willow. 
 
 The majority of the villas being erected were 
 on the conventional lines of South African 
 architecture. Broad, one - storied structures, 
 surrounded by the indispensable verandah. 
 
 Occasionally an exception occurred, thereby 
 affording a pleasing if eccentric contrast. The 
 owner of one charming-looking abode in other 
 respects, had topped the whole by a thatched 
 roof, more suitable to the wilds of Connemara 
 than a would-be fashionable suburb of Johan- 
 nesburg. 
 
 Another, said to be a lady who had accumu- 
 lated a pretty fortune through running a can- 
 teen, finished off her neat dwelling by the 
 erection of a steeple and clock, worthy of the 
 most orthodox chapel. Probably a devout feel- 
 ing of thankfulness to the Almighty for favours 
 received, induced the ex-bar-lady to announce 
 her retirement from public life by a fitting 
 symbol of the change in her social and moral 
 circumstances. 
 
 In fact, cupolas and steeples were decidedly 
 at premium in the Camp. The very shops 
 bristled with them. No building of any pre-
 
 59 
 
 tension to beauty or prominence was considered 
 perfect until a steeple or cupola was set on hap- 
 hazard, like an Irishman's tile. 
 
 At the time of writing this sketch, Doorn- 
 fontein was the nucleus of fashionable life in 
 the Rand. A world in which the ambitious 
 ' missis ' of the successful broker or hotel- 
 keeper ruled by right of wealth, dispensing 
 hospitality with an indiscriminate lavishness 
 suggestive of the ex-barmaid or house- 
 maid. 
 
 Clad in the richest silks and laces, and blaz- 
 ing with diamonds, madame or the ' missis ' 
 shone resplendent in her box at the Theatre 
 Royal. She was a perfect display of bad form 
 in her dashing cart. A Kafir boy rigged out as 
 a tiger posed on the box, drawn by a tandem of 
 as pretty a pair of horses as money could pro- 
 cure. The fastidious Englishman, fresh to the 
 Rand, in search of a fortune, rendered homage 
 to the glittering, coarse goddess of the hour. 
 He was glad to accept a patronage he would 
 not have dared to receive at home. 
 
 But in the Rand all was quite different. 
 What would have been impossible at home, 
 was not only possible here, but oft-times neces- 
 sary. The husband of the goddess reigned 
 supreme on the Exchange. There he sent
 
 60 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 stocks up and down as easily as a child tosses 
 a ball. And if madame, with the freedom of 
 the Golden City's moral code, found the new- 
 comer a pleasing toy to dangle at her chain, 
 there was ample compensation for his outraged 
 sense of good taste and gentle breeding to be 
 found in the way of valuable tips. The result 
 set him up again, or helped to recompense his 
 losses in the old home far away. There never 
 an echo of the fast life of the Rand would be 
 likely to penetrate. 
 
 It would be unjust to madame not to admit 
 that nine times out of ten she understood all 
 this. Her experience gained behind the bar 
 had not left her without a keen insight into 
 human nature. Consequently she held a tight 
 rein and despotic whip over her temporary 
 slaves. Sometimes she was lucky enough to 
 curb the captive effectually by marrying him to 
 a niece or dependent sister. 
 
 Curious as the blending of these many con- 
 flicting elements in Rand society may appear, it 
 increased the charm. Continual reinforce- 
 ments from Home society lent an ever- varied 
 fascination to society. Every new arrival 
 brought with it an impetus to amusement- 
 giving. The new faces lent an excitement to 
 every pleasure. Nights of feasting, dancing,
 
 THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE 61 
 
 card-parties, followed days of hard work on 
 Change, devoted to buying and selling. 
 
 Oft-times, when those were days of great 
 anxiety, and fortunes were made and lost in 
 an hour the nights of revel and dissipation 
 ran wilder riot than ever in the sumptuously 
 appointed villa and bungalow of the broker and 
 his missis. 
 
 At the very height of the crisis, when the 
 biggest bear of the market went under, drag- 
 ging with him scores of young speculators, and 
 men saw their thousands slipping away the 
 Wanderers' Club was opened with a flourish of 
 festivities. Its handsome hall, decorated with 
 gorgeous display of bunting, was given over to 
 dancing - bouts, amateur theatricals, concerts, 
 and every conceivable amusement with which 
 the fashionable world diverts itself. 
 
 In the gay ballroom and jolly bar of the 
 Wanderers, many a smiling face covered a 
 heart sick with dread of the future. Many a 
 brimming glass and foaming beaker brought 
 men forgetfulness of the ruin already upon 
 them. Subsequent events have borne sad wit- 
 ness to this. 
 
 Let us now return to the little brown house 
 in Doornfontein. It stood in a narrow lane, 
 half street, half road, embellished here and
 
 62 
 
 there with newly-planted young trees carefully 
 boxed round to escape the encroachments of 
 sundry stray and hungry cattle. Its pretty 
 sitting-room, adorned with elegant trifles from 
 the hand of many a fair one, was given over to 
 a perfect orgie of smoke and excited debate. 
 
 Bad times had already fallen upon the hereto- 
 fore jolly, free-and-easy manage of the cricketers. 
 An anxious if heated council was being held as 
 to the future of the bachelor team. 
 
 " I say, Archie," remarked a smooth-faced 
 chorister-looking youth, "there is no use in 
 bringing up such arguments, they can never 
 convince me. I tell you the Rand is going to 
 pieces. We had better make tracks for some 
 more profitable pastures, pretty quick." 
 
 Captain Archibald Achilles, to whom these 
 sage remarks were addressed, rose excitedly 
 and began to pace the room. He was a capital 
 specimen of a stalwart young Englishman, lithe 
 and sinewy, blonde as a Norse god. The deep- 
 set blue eyes, that, at this moment, were spark- 
 ling with suppressed impatience. 
 
 " I tell you again it's for the best. Things 
 must take a turn. Why not have patience a 
 little longer ? Why, there's the club only just 
 completed, and shall we throw up the bat at 
 such a time ? "
 
 THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE 63 
 
 " True, I never thought of that," remarked 
 
 o 
 
 another, " it would look shabby just now. The 
 boys have all of them stood by us." 
 
 " Oh, bosh ! " exclaimed the first speaker, 
 "they are too sensible to expect us to make 
 sacrifices for their pleasure. There's Crcesus, 
 who told me only this morning, the breaking- 
 up of the team was a sensible move. We can't 
 live on air ; we are not bank managers and mine 
 owners. I for one shall be off to Matabeleland 
 within a fortnight." 
 
 "I'll join you, Gray," eagerly cried another 
 of the band. 
 
 The captain continued his pacing. He was 
 nervously biting the end of his flaxen 
 moustache. 
 
 One of the men, who had not spoken for 
 some time, watched him narrowly. The two 
 were partners in a stock-brokerage, and although 
 openly on the most friendly footing, were never- 
 theless distrustful one of the other. The young 
 man sitting or reclining in an easy chair smoked 
 leisurely enough ; his handsome face wore, if 
 anything, a bored look of indifference. Slightly 
 and elegantly built, his physique scarcely pro- 
 claimed him the capital athlete he was. The 
 hands thrust into his smoking jacket were almost 
 as delicate as a woman's ; but they held the
 
 64 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 strength of steel, and would wield a bat with 
 the power of a giant. 
 
 For some reason or other he was not popular 
 with his fellow-cricketers. Whether it was that 
 they resented his superior shrewdness or were 
 jealous of his success with the women, would be 
 hard to tell. Perhaps they would have been at 
 a loss to define the cause if pressed for it. At 
 all events, the young men waited to hear his 
 opinion of the disbanding of the team. They 
 had always been more or less guided by his 
 decision in sporting matters. 
 
 But he said nothing as he smoked placidly 
 on ; until the captain at last challenged him as 
 he ceased abruptly in his walk, and stood before 
 him, saying 
 
 " Well, Morrie, are we never to get a word 
 from you ? What's the say ? " 
 
 ."I'll take time to think over it," he replied, 
 warily. " You're opening this rather suddenly on 
 us, Archie. I'll sleep over it before I decide." 
 
 The captain seemed satisfied, and resumed 
 his walk. He had not quite expected this 
 young man of all others to come to an imme- 
 diate decision, although he affected to think 
 he would. 
 
 "As I was saying before, the wisest thing 
 for all of us is to clear out of the Rand and at
 
 THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE 65 
 
 the earliest day possible. That's my decision," 
 said Gray, rising and stretching his legs. " Now 
 I'm going for a ride. I'll see you at dinner at 
 the ' National,' boys." 
 
 The Captain let him depart without answer- 
 ing his rather decided objection to the plan he 
 had laid before the team. Gray was not the 
 man essential to his object. It was the hand- 
 some, keen-eyed Morrie that absorbed his atten- 
 tion. To keep him by his side until the time 
 was ripe for pulling up stakes and being off, 
 was the point in view. 
 
 "Well, I think I'll be off too." 
 
 " So soon, Morrie? It's an hour before dinner. 
 And we might as well talk over the next match, 
 now we are alone." 
 
 "No, I think not. I'd rather take a little 
 longer time to consider it." 
 
 "All right. By the way, did Jerrison take 
 up those shares ? " 
 
 "No, the rascal is getting chary of scrip. 
 Well, I'm off." 
 
 As the door closed behind the cricketer, the 
 captain strode to the window, and stared 
 moodily out. A score of anxieties perplexed 
 him. What was to be done ? he thought. 
 Why, by all that was damnable, had difficulties 
 arisen over which he had no control ?
 
 66 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 Gnawing the end of his moustache, he let 
 his mind wander back to the first months he 
 had passed in the Rand. The boom had 
 brought to him success no failures in those 
 good old days. He recalled the glorious round 
 of pleasures when the team came fresh to the 
 fields. That was a carnival of success which 
 made the present state of affairs black and 
 dismal beyond expression. 
 
 To some men these changes and reverses 
 would have mattered little ; the spirit of adven- 
 ture would have buoyed them up and rendered 
 them eager for new fields to explore ; but to 
 this man, selfish, vain, egotistical and ambitious, 
 these reverses were crushing. 
 
 He had scarcely the strength to look them 
 boldly in the face. His weakness endowed 
 him with a certain cunning which resulted in 
 subterfuge and underhand dealing. These 
 things he would have preferred to avoid. It 
 galled his sense of refinement, disturbed his 
 easy conscientiousness to resort to them ; but 
 his selfish ends must be gained at any cost. 
 
 While these cogitations were busy in his 
 brain, a hand was laid on his shoulder, and a 
 voice aroused him from his thoughts, saying, 
 
 " Well, Archie, how goes it ? " 
 
 " Hallo, Hector ! I didn't hear you come in."
 
 THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE 67 
 
 
 
 "No? I left the horse with Jim and came 
 in the back way. Has Rob been here I 
 couldn't see him about ? " 
 
 " He has not come home yet. Have a 
 whisky and soda, old man ? " 
 
 "Thanks!" said Hector, as he filled a glass 
 from a bottle on the table, and pouring in a 
 plentiful supply of sparkling soda, drank it off 
 at a draught. He sat down leisurely in a 
 chair. From one of the numerous pockets of 
 his jacket he produced a short briarwood pipe. 
 He filled this indispensable companion of the 
 digger with Transvaal tobacco. A fine article, 
 by the way, and one which should be better 
 known outside of South Africa. Strong, fra- 
 grant, and pure is the Boer tobacco. 
 
 The young man puffed vigorously. He 
 gazed through the blue fumes of smoke at 
 his friend. 
 
 Hector was a splendid specimen of manhood. 
 His noble length of limb encased in brown 
 knickerbockers, shapely calves covered with 
 brown woollen hose, loose white silk shirt, 
 and brown jacket-coat with rolling collar and 
 sailor-knot of blue, set off the manly figure. 
 The well-poised head, the long drooping blonde 
 moustache shaded a mouth, beautiful as a 
 woman's. The strong chin redeemed the
 
 68 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 mouth. Altogether the face under the broad- 
 brimmed digger's hat was fascinating to both 
 men and women. 
 
 A woman is always susceptible to a soup^on 
 of the rake in a man. Like all thoroughly 
 well-bred Englishmen he could drink to any 
 extent without showing in a vulgar manner the 
 effect of his potations. 
 
 "Well," he began, "what news, 
 Archie?" 
 
 "Bad, Hector," replied the other. "I'm 
 awfully down on my luck. I can't seem to 
 keep this beastly team together long enough 
 to suit my purpose. There's Gray now, he is 
 as stubborn as a bullock ; you know he is our 
 best pitcher. And as for Morrie well, he is 
 so decidedly non-committal, won't say anything 
 as yet and he is such a capital wicket that a 
 game would be dead without him. I can 
 manage Mosentiem and the others, but those 
 two well, they are regular duffers." 
 
 " What's your idea of keeping them ? I did 
 not know you intended breaking up." 
 
 "Well, Hector, I'm going to leave the Rand. 
 I have a very good offer at home, and I think 
 I had better take it." 
 
 " Go on ! this is news indeed ! " he exclaimed, 
 laying down his pipe in astonishment " I am
 
 THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE 69 
 
 sorry to hear it, but of course if it is for the 
 best go." 
 
 " It is. But as my appointment does not 
 begin for a couple of months I want to put 
 in the time as profitably as possible. I am 
 stoney-broke, but a few good matches would 
 recoup me." 
 
 " But Morrie and Gray are both hot to go to 
 Matabeleland. Isn't that better than counting 
 sticks or catching ' flies ' on 'Change ? " 
 
 "Very true, but I must prevail on them to 
 wait. " 
 
 " That would be a loss to them." 
 
 Archie shrugged his shoulders expressively. 
 
 " I say that would be a little selfish on your 
 part, eh ? " persisted Hector. 
 
 " There are no secrets between us, Hector 
 I don't mind telling you. I don't care a rap 
 for the others. I am going to consult my 
 interests only." 
 
 Hector listened with a frown. He did not 
 like the utter selfishness and hardness of his 
 friend. Intimate as they had been, he had 
 never before realised the extent of that selfish- 
 ness. His thoughts reverted to the judgment 
 Ariadne had passed on this man. He was to 
 have further proof. Archie said presently, as 
 though reading his thoughts, 
 
 F
 
 70 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " I suppose you have seen her to-day ? " 
 
 " No, I have just come in from the Reef." A 
 flush touched his bronzed cheek, as it always 
 did when any allusion was made to Ariadne. 
 At the same time something in the tone of his 
 friend's remark made him fully prepared for an 
 unpleasant talk. He tightened his lips on his 
 pipe as the other continued, 
 
 " How much longer are you going to keep 
 up that infatuation, Hector?" 
 
 "As long as she loves me," he replied, dog- 
 gedly. Archie knew the tone was hostile, but 
 he had resolved to speak plainly and strongly 
 on the subject. He had resolved to make a 
 last effort to break it off between Hector and 
 Ariadne. He loved Ariadne. She had re- 
 pulsed him. But of this Hector knew nothing. 
 Ariadne had kept her enemy's secret. 
 
 " Hector ! " he began, stopping in his walk 
 and looking down at his friend, " I wish to 
 heavens I could influence you to give up this 
 woman before I go away. Will you listen to 
 reason ? For God's sake take my advice before 
 it is too late, before you are ruined." 
 
 " What is the use of talk, old man ? I have 
 told you again and again I love her. I shall 
 never give her up." 
 
 " Love her? Don't call it by such a name,"
 
 THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE 71 
 
 cried Archie, carried beyond prudence by his 
 jealousy. "How can a man love a woman 
 who has drained every passion of the soul, 
 and lived in her short life the experience of a 
 score of men like ourselves ? A widow, and a 
 woman of the world to her finger tips ! If she 
 is a woman of genius, all the more reason for 
 not loving her. Those women are only fit to 
 amuse men not to be wives or the mothers 
 of children." 
 
 " Stop, Archie ! " cried Hector, springing 
 from his chair, "I'll not hear you speak of her 
 in such terms. It is unjust. Ariadne is one of 
 the best women God ever made." 
 
 " I repeat, Hector, it is not love, it is 
 wantonness that makes her use every charm 
 to fascinate you." 
 
 " I don't care a hang what it is. I'll love the 
 'little one,' as long as she's the sweet true- 
 hearted woman she has always been ! " 
 
 "As long as she is true," repeated Archie, 
 sneeringly. " Ha ha ! well, we won't discuss her 
 further to-day, old man. Let's go to dinner." 
 
 " What do you mean ? out with it ! " cried 
 Hector hoarsely, his face pale with anger. 
 " You're a duffer to talk like that. You know 
 you lie. I believe, by God, you love her 
 yourself ! "
 
 72 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 They stood looking fiercely at each other. 
 It was the first time in all the history of their 
 friendship they had quarrelled. Archie's face 
 grew white as death, and a faintness crept over 
 him as he looked into the bloodshot eyes of 
 Hector. A sort of pity crept over him. He 
 had not thought Hector capable of such love. 
 He supposed him to be the last man to yield to 
 the fleeting weakness every man experiences 
 some time or other for a woman and mis- 
 takes for love. 
 
 A new pang of jealousy shot through his 
 heart, at the knowledge that this woman not 
 only possessed his love but she had taken the 
 first place in the affections of Hector; that he, 
 the gentlest and softest of men to his friend, 
 had suddenly turned on him like a lion at bay, 
 ready to strike and defend. 
 
 " Forgive me, Hector," he said, masking the 
 hypocrite by a show of regret, at the same time 
 holding out his hand ; " I did not think you 
 were struck so hard." 
 
 Hector turned away abruptly for a moment. 
 He came back to Archie, and, taking his hand, 
 said, unsteadily, 
 
 "That's all right." 
 
 But the seed had been sown.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE PRICE OF A SINGLE FLOWER 
 
 WHAT more interesting spot for the study of a 
 certain phase of humanity than that of hotel 
 life ? The place par excellence to indulge such 
 study is the salle-a-manger. 
 
 Given an intimate knowledge of the inner 
 life of the heterogeneous mass of individuals 
 collected therein for the indulgence, of one of 
 the first laws of nature, the study becomes too 
 serious for pleasure. To know the man near 
 you is a swindler, rogue or scoundrel or that 
 woman opposite a whitened sepulchre, is not 
 always a pleasant appetiser it is too like the 
 death's head at a feast. 
 
 But where one has a soup(;on of knowledge 
 anent the lives, character, and position of the 
 people, there is a wide field for fancy. Psychi- 
 cal observations become intensely interesting. 
 There the student has his subject, bland and 
 happy, smiling and flippant, earnest or sensual, 
 under the genial influence of a good dinner. 
 
 The care, wear, and tear of the day has been
 
 74 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 for the nonce forgotten. People appear as they 
 would if the world was one field of pleasure 
 and self-indulgence. 
 
 The brilliantly-lighted dining-hall of the 
 Grand National Hotel was crowded to excess. 
 Two young men entered, and gazed round a 
 moment in search of their party. They espied 
 a hand at the far end of the room beckoning to 
 them. 
 
 It was Morrie, making frantic signs to call 
 their attention to the table where he and his 
 companions were seated. 
 
 Archie led the way through the labyrinth of 
 tables and scurrying waiters. He stopped now 
 and then to exchange greeting with various 
 friends. He was very popular, this clever 
 young captain of the cricketers. Was he not 
 charming as an actor? Could he not sing a 
 negro song irresistibly, play an excellent game 
 of billiards, and flirt, when need be, most 
 discreetly and tenderly? 
 
 Occasionally his steps loitered as a pair of 
 bright eyes levelled a flashing glance at him ; 
 but Hector's impatient whisper, " Go on," 
 hurried him along, and the two were soon 
 seated at the table. 
 
 A passing waiter was effectually bribed to 
 attend to their wants. The charm of a half-
 
 THE PRICE OF A SINGLE FLOWER 75 
 
 sovereign conjured dinner before them in a 
 trice. 
 
 There was no ripple on the flow of gossip 
 and chaff with which they enlivened the dinner, 
 to indicate the under-current of worry and 
 discontent. 
 
 Their chaff and attention were centred mostly 
 on an adjoining table. It was unoccupied. 
 Covers were laid for a number of persons. 
 The centre was graced by a magnificent basket 
 of flowers, the fragrance and beauty of which 
 attracted general attention from the adjacent 
 diners. An exquisite boutonniere of violets 
 and roses was laid beside each cover. Clusters 
 of pink-shaded candles adorned the corners of 
 the table. 
 
 " I see the ' Circus ' is decorated and lighted 
 up to-night," said Archie, as he gulped down 
 his soup. 
 
 This witticism provoked a shout of laughter. 
 Archie was not given usually to brilliant dis- 
 plays of wit. The covert sneer at the early 
 career of the millionaire host for whom the 
 table was prepared was one of Archie's best 
 attempts at wit. 
 
 " I wonder if the dog show will be on," cried 
 Morrie. This allusion was to the trio of 
 splendid bull-pups that usually graced the table
 
 76 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 with their master. It elicited fresh laughter 
 that deepened into positive roars when Mosen- 
 tiem gravely remarked 
 
 " I'll bet five to one there'll be a full house, 
 and a brave display of hook noses ! " 
 
 Now, this was rather rough on Mosentiem, 
 for was he not a son of the hooked-nosed 
 brigade himself? But, strange to say, his 
 laugh was the longest and loudest. 
 
 Hector forgot his troubles, and enjoyed the 
 chaff of his companions, especially when it was 
 turned on Mosentiem. He heartily disliked 
 the sang-froid with which Mosentiem ridiculed 
 his own people. 
 
 But time teaches many lessons, and Hector 
 was yet to learn how true was the heart beneath 
 that handsome Jewish face. 
 
 Hector turned his attention to the beauty of 
 the flowers on the opposite table. 
 
 The sweet odour of the violets filled him with 
 a voluptuous memory of Ariadne. They were 
 her favourite flowers. 
 
 Amid the noisy talk of his companions he fell 
 into a reverie, deepened by the generous Bur- 
 gundy, over what yon table would be were he 
 at one end and Ariadne at the other, dispensing 
 hospitality in the happy character of man and 
 wife.
 
 THE PRICE OF A SINGLE FLOWER 77 
 
 How superbly she would grace that place ! 
 He fancied her sweet face aglow with smiles. 
 He could hear her soft voice and mellow laugh. 
 
 " Oh, God ! " he groaned, " will the damnable 
 gold only come fast enough to accomplish that 
 dream." 
 
 " I say, wake up ; what are you groaning 
 about ? " 
 
 It was Archie's voice, as he gave Hector a 
 vigorous nudge. 
 
 " I believe I was nodding," laughed Hector. 
 " I almost fell asleep trying to estimate the cost 
 of those flowers. The perfume is too strong ; it 
 induces a tendency to doze." 
 
 " The Burgundy is too strong ; it induces 
 a tendency to booze," exclaimed Morrie, 
 chaffingly. 
 
 " Oh, go on," retorted Hector. " Come 
 now, tell us how much that basket's worth." 
 
 " Yes ! " chimed Archie, " you're a con- 
 noisseur, you know." 
 
 "Well," and Morrie looked at the basket 
 critically, "I'd take a hundred pounds for 
 it." 
 
 " Whew ! " whistled Hector. 
 
 " Take another glass, Hector ; you're dry," 
 said Morrie, scornfully, who did not like being 
 doubted.
 
 78 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " Morrie estimates at the rate that old 
 Engleman paid him for a single rose ; a fiver. 
 Well, I have counted twenty roses in the 
 basket." 
 
 "Great Scot!" interrupted Morrie, "don't 
 talk like a duffer, Gray. That was an excep- 
 tional case. Old Engleman was dying to get a 
 rose for a certain pretty actress ; and as there 
 was not another rose to be found in the camp 
 but the one I was wearing, he would have it, 
 and offered me a fiver for it. Of course I 
 would have been a duffer if I refused." 
 
 " No fool like an old fool," interpolated 
 Mosentiem, with a grin. 
 
 " He got it cheap at that," continued Morrie, 
 ignoring Mosentiem's remark. " He would have 
 had to send a man and cart all the way to Pre- 
 toria and back to fetch a flower ; and then he 
 would have been able to get only a few." 
 
 " And the little girl's vanity would not have 
 been tickled by wearing the only rose in camp 
 that night," exclaimed Hector. 
 
 " Right you are ! Look at those orchids in 
 that basket," resumed Morrie. " There's only 
 three, and I'll bet my head they have brought 
 a fiver each. There's only one garden in Pre- 
 toria produces them, and I'll bet there's not 
 another orchid to be found in the Rand to-night
 
 THE PRICE OF A SINGLE FLOWER 79 
 
 Why, the violets alone are worth a couple of 
 tenners." 
 
 "Oh, rot !" impatiently exclaimed Gray. 
 
 "Rot, nothing," retorted Morrie. "There's 
 somebody not far away who gave me two quid 
 for a handful one day last week." 
 
 He gave a sly wink in the direction of Hector, 
 who was gazing into his glass, while a blush 
 worthy of a schoolboy spread over his face. 
 
 " Money thrown away," sneered Archie, as 
 he frowned in the direction of the downcast eyes. 
 
 "No, by God!" cried Mosentiem, hotly. 
 " There," pulling a banknote from his purse 
 and thrusting it into Morrie's hand, "send 
 her the finest basket of violets to be found 
 in the Rand. Send it to-morrow with my 
 compliments." 
 
 " Not if I can help it," said Hector, hoarsely, 
 his face purple with jealous rage. " I'll 
 
 "I've as good a right to send her flowers as 
 you have," interrupted Mosentiem. 
 
 "If you dare." 
 
 " Shan't I, though ? " laughed the other. 
 
 " I must get out of this," said Hector, at- 
 tempting to rise, " or I'll break the duffer's head." 
 
 But Archie held him down. " Don't be a 
 fool ! " he said, scornfully. "If you make a row 
 here, it won't do her name any good."
 
 8o THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 Archie's words soothed and quieted the in- 
 dignant man. 
 
 "It's all right, old boy ; let's shake hands, I 
 won't interfere," said Mosentiem, extending his 
 hand across the table. 
 
 Hector glared at him, and the quarrel might 
 have been serious, but at that moment Morrie 
 cried 
 
 " Here comes the circus."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE MILLIONAIRE'S DINNER 
 
 ALL eyes were turned towards the entrance 
 of the dining-hall, where the head waiter stood 
 obsequiously. Then bowing and walking back- 
 wards, he waved his hand in the direction of 
 the flower-laden table. 
 
 He was followed by a slight, dapper little 
 man, blonde-haired, blonde-moustached, and 
 rosy-cheeked. His bright eyes smiled blandly 
 behind gold-rimmed glasses. He wore his 
 honours jauntily as he sauntered along with a 
 self-conscious air which seemed to say 
 
 " Here I am ; look at me. 
 
 " I am Crcesus. The great Johannesburg 
 Crcesus, who made his millions out of nothing. 
 You won't see such a sight twice in a lifetime. 
 Look well while you have the chance. Behold 
 a man that can teach you everything. From 
 turning a somersault in the ring that will make 
 the sawdust fly, to turning a somersault on 
 'Change that will make the gold-dust fly. 
 
 " Here I am. Look at me well ! I can teach
 
 82 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 you to sing, to dance, to juggle, and to make 
 speeches in the Assembly. I can teach you 
 where to dig for gold, and where to find dia- 
 monds. I can teach you how to make money, 
 and how to spend it. 
 
 "I'm a downright lucky little fellow, I am. 
 Lucky to my friends. Lucky to my enemies. 
 Lucky to the women, from the barmaid to the 
 peeress. I'm the luckiest of lucky little fellows. 
 Look at me well ; it will do you good." 
 
 All this, and more, the little man's swagger 
 proclaimed. 
 
 Meantime the group of young men watched 
 his approach in silence. Prejudiced as they 
 were against him, the man commanded their 
 involuntary respect. 
 
 Did he not represent success ? There was 
 not one of them but would have lorded it as a 
 thoroughbred, had they been blessed with like 
 success and fortune. They knew it well. They 
 resented his prosperity by contemptuous chaff. 
 Not one of them but knew in his heart he 
 would not refuse the little man's golden friend- 
 ship, had it been offered. 
 
 The little man knew it. Who would blame 
 him for an extra swagger as he passed their 
 table ? He knew they were swells, poor, but 
 swells all the same, who would gladly use him r
 
 83 
 
 had the opportunity presented itself. But the 
 little man was true to himself. He helped only 
 his kind. 
 
 While he swaggered after the cringing 
 waiter, in his wake followed a lady recently 
 elected to the enviable position of his better 
 half. 
 
 She was a dark-haired, handsome woman. 
 Her eyes had the brilliancy of the Creole. The 
 dusky tones of brown in the full, round throat 
 were deepened by the contrast of the necklace 
 of flashing diamonds. Her figure, to which the 
 robe of pale tinted satin, with draperies of flow- 
 ing lace, lent an air of elegance, was generously 
 proportioned. The rounded arms and well- 
 poised bust gleamed like tinted ivory beneath 
 the delicate lace. They might have served as 
 the model of a sculptor's master-piece. 
 
 She was proud, this charming Mrs Crcesus. 
 Her small head, with its graceful coils of jet- 
 black hair, grew more haughtily erect. The 
 straight brows met in a defiant frown. The 
 angry flash of the brilliant eyes threw a scorn- 
 ful glance towards the cricketers. It proclaimed 
 how intensely she resented their stare of cynical 
 inspection. 
 
 She knew there was no admiration in those 
 glances. Only contemptuous wonder and
 
 84 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 satirical speculation on the turn in the wheel 
 of Fate which had so gilded her fortune. 
 
 "Mrs Crcesus has got a gorgeous wedding 
 present, I see," flippantly remarked Mosentiem 
 as he sipped his Moselle. 
 
 " About time for both wedding and present, 
 I should think." This from Archie, with a 
 sneering laugh. 
 
 " That necklace must have cost a cool twenty 
 thousand pounds," said Mosentiem, meditatively. 
 
 " All certified, let us hope," observed Archie. 
 
 "Not much, I'll bet!" broke in Gray; 
 "although Crcesus is too clever to ever be 
 caught." 
 
 " It's a long lane " began Archie. 
 
 " Rot ! " exclaimed Gray. 
 
 Hector suddenly roused himself from the 
 reverie into which the magnificence of Mrs 
 Crcesus had plunged him. 
 
 " What's this I hear about a wedding ? " he 
 queried. " When were they married, does any- 
 one know ? " 
 
 " Now you ask conundrums," said Mosentiem, 
 laughing. " But the ceremony is rumoured to 
 have taken place in London a few weeks 
 before Crcesus returned to the Rand." 
 
 "And why," interposed Gray, "this sudden 
 hankering after fashionable life ? "
 
 THE MILLIONAIRE'S DINNER 85 
 
 "Well, you see," resumed Mosentiem, 
 " Croesus is fond of ' the missis,' in spite of his 
 numerous other attachments, and proud of her 
 beauty ' 
 
 " Beauty," interrupted Hector, staring 
 through his glass at the unconscious Mrs Crcesus, 
 now smiling and chatting with her guests. 
 
 " Where is it ? " chimed in Gray. 
 
 "Yes, I said beauty," answered Mosentiem, 
 "and I say it again." 
 
 "If quantity is a form of beauty, I agree 
 with you." 
 
 " Oh, go on, Archie. Keep quiet ! " cried 
 Hector, impatiently. 
 
 " Well, beauty, as I was saying," resumed 
 Mosentiem, lolling back in his chair, tugging 
 his tiny black moustache with one hand and 
 holding his glass up to the light with the other, 
 while he surveyed the contents with a critical 
 eye, "and fidelity." 
 
 As he uttered the last words he swallowed 
 the wine and laid down his glass with a great 
 air of impressment. 
 
 He paused before he resumed, apparently 
 waiting for comment. But the boys were so 
 struck with his declaration of Mrs Croesus' 
 fidelity, that they forgot their inclination to 
 chaff in their astonishment. 
 
 G
 
 86 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 "Yes, she had been faithful to him, through 
 thick and thin. It was a long time to wait, 
 eight years, for the small courtesy of a wed- 
 ding-ring, and Crcesus wasn't going to see her 
 slighted and insulted for the lack of one. He 
 had too good a memory to forget how she 
 loved him when he was poor, and too good 
 a heart to turn her off when he was a 
 millionaire. 
 
 " Crcesus is the right sort. With all his little 
 upstart airs, he has too good brains in that 
 round cranium of his to be anything else ; so 
 he took the ' missis ' to London and made her 
 Mrs Crcesus. That effectually stopped the 
 sneering gossip of the ladies of the Govern- 
 ment House. They did not dare refuse the 
 courtesy due the wife of Crcesus. She was at 
 once received by the wives of his brother- 
 Assembly members. So, she was received 
 coldly, it may be, but Crcesus had carried his 
 point." 
 
 There was silence for a few moments after 
 this unusually long speech from Mosentiem ; pie 
 seemed secretly pleased with the effect of his 
 words. He lifted the glass to his lips, and shot 
 a friendly wink at Crcesus, who was regarding 
 him with a smile, and tipped his glass to him as 
 he tossed off his wine.
 
 THE MILLIONAIRE'S DINNER 87 
 
 " I don't think you take the right view of 
 the matter, Mosentiem," said Archie, launching 
 into a tirade against Crcesus. 
 
 "Well, I'm jiggered!" blurted Mosentiem, 
 his face purple with indignation. " You are a 
 fine one to preach in that style. The last man 
 in the camp to set up as a saint. Ha ha ! " 
 
 " You may laugh all you please. I'm no saint, 
 I admit, and like a well set up girl, that is not 
 too strait-laced, as well as the rest. But to 
 marry such a girl bah ! " 
 
 " And suppose a girl should lose some of her 
 strait-lacing through love of you what then?" 
 
 "That's her own look-out. If she is weak 
 enough to go wrong, she's not fit to marry." 
 
 "Well, thank God, we don't look at the 
 matter in that way here in the Rand ! " cried 
 Mosentiem. 
 
 " No, we don't in the Rand," said Archie, 
 coolly ; "but at home it's very different." 
 
 " Yes, very different," echoed Mosentiem. 
 "In the old country we think nothing of 
 seduction and breach of promise ; but here, by 
 God ! we do. Women are too scarce to treat 
 in that style ; we are only too glad to marry 
 them if they'll have us." 
 
 " Don't talk like a brute, Archie ! " muttered 
 Hector.
 
 88 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 Archie's only reply was a sneering laugh, as 
 he arose from the table. 
 
 " Let's leave the women alone," he said, con- 
 temptuously. " You know we never agree there, 
 Mosentiem, and we never shall." 
 
 "Are you coming?" said Archie, as he cut 
 off the end of the cigar. 
 
 "Yes, we are all coming," answered Hector. 
 " I've a box at Fillis's. He has a new specta- 
 cular circus piece on to-night: 'Cigarette,' he 
 calls it. It's bound to be a good show, like 
 everything Frank does. Come along, boys." 
 
 Hector felt that it would be a mortal quarrel 
 between them, if he and Archie were to go 
 away alone, after the manner in which he had 
 aired his views about women. His words had 
 cut two ways with Hector, and the poor fellow 
 felt very sore. He could not refrain from cast- 
 ing a kindly glance at Mrs Crcesus, as he passed 
 her table together with his friends. 
 
 She felt the sympathy of his glance. Her 
 eyes fell beneath the look, which she was too 
 proud to return and too sensitive to ignore. 
 
 "That's a fine -looking lot of fellows," ob- 
 served one of the guests. " Who are they ? " 
 
 Mrs Crcesus' only answer was an indifferent 
 shrug of her handsome shoulders. 
 
 "Oh, they are a lot of cricketers," answered
 
 THE MILLIONAIRE'S DINNER 89 
 
 Croesus. "They seemed a little excited. They 
 are usually cool fellows, all swells in their 
 way." 
 
 " So ! " answered the guest, who was a new- 
 comer. " I thought they were ; now, they look 
 it." 
 
 " They are not all members of the team," 
 said Crcesus. " One's the manager of a main 
 reef mine, the one just going out, that well- 
 set fellow with the long waxed moustache. 
 Bernheim says he is a capital manager, but 
 neglects the mine too much lately for the 
 society of the cleverest woman in camp." 
 
 " So ! " remarked the other. " I like clever 
 women ; introduce me, Crcesus." 
 
 " I haven't the honour of her acquaintance," 
 replied Crcesus, as he hurried on to say, " the 
 tall, slender chap with him is the captain of 
 the team." 
 
 "So! the captain of the team," said the 
 other, with German-like reiteration ; "I like 
 him ; he would make the ladies' hearts beat, 
 now, I should think." 
 
 "Yes," said Crcesus, with a laugh, "he was 
 rather dotty on the pretty little barmaid at the 
 Bodega, but he does not seem the same now 
 the stocks are going down." 
 
 " So ! then he's a stockbroker ? "
 
 90 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 "Well, yes and no," said Croesus. "When 
 the team came first to the Rand, we set him 
 and another cricketer up in brokering. They 
 prospered for a few months, but were not smart 
 enough to keep on their own legs. You must 
 know it is necessary for shareholders to keep 
 each other a little in the dark about the firms 
 they buy and sell through. That necessitates 
 a change of broker every few weeks. So the 
 cricketers could not always count on their 
 friends, and were not keen enough to know 
 how to work the job. Achilles is only good 
 for athletics or acting, and the other is nearly 
 as bad. Well, the concern of B. & A. will not 
 hold out many days. Poor boys, I'm sorry 
 but they'll get a fresh chance in Matabeleland, 
 if they take it." 
 
 With these words Crcesus dismissed the 
 subject of the cricketers. The dinner, to his 
 mind, was the thing of the moment. After 
 that he adjourned to the inner sanctum of his 
 apartments, there to seek relaxation in the 
 game of the green table, where stakes often 
 ran into the thousands, and the hours into 
 broad daylight.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE LAST OF THE BOOM 
 
 THE sunshine bathed in warm blazing splendour 
 the wide street. The fine red quartz-dust, lying 
 inches deep in the unpaved roadway, glinted 
 here and sparkled there beneath the golden 
 rays. The many roofs of corrugated zinc 
 glittered in the shafts of light till they shone 
 like burnished opals. Above, the pale tur- 
 quoise - tinted heavens was flecked by lightly 
 floating pearly clouds. In the clear distance 
 the low kopjes on the far-away edges of the 
 great plateau could be plainly discerned. The 
 morning wind, now tempered to a breeze, lightly 
 swept the dust of the roadway into every crevice 
 and corner of the Golden City. 
 
 Sunshine danced and sparkled everywhere, 
 as only it can sparkle and dance in Africa. No 
 fog dared rear its murky head. No chill spread 
 its misty garments, no damp oozed its clammy 
 breath in the face of that merry, brazen sun- 
 shine, rollicking in and out of every nook and 
 cranny of the camp.
 
 92 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 It shone with the same genial warmth on the 
 polished backs of the natives as it shone on 
 the lady driving her jaunty cart and ponies. 
 
 The sunshine slyly insinuated its way down 
 shaft and lead. It trickled a tiny path of light 
 into the far depths, catching an answering ray 
 from the yellow quartz just turned out from its 
 bed by the digger. 
 
 Those merry beams touched with tender tints 
 the humble hut of the Kafir, brightened the 
 arid veld, and reflected a myriad sparkles on 
 the rough glasses decking the bar of the 
 meanest canteen. 
 
 Its rays danced joyously through the dust- 
 begrimed windows of the Exchange, lighting 
 up a scene of bustle and activity therein. 
 
 High 'Change was on, and men of every age, 
 clime, and complexion were shouting in every 
 variation of voice and tone, according to the 
 capacity of each individual's lungs and thorax. 
 
 The roar of this human menagerie, in which 
 the Beast rampant with the lust of gold reigned, 
 could be heard from one end of Commissioner 
 Street to the other. 
 
 'The Exchange crowd,' as it was dubbed 
 by the street-brokers, filled every inch of the 
 spacious building. There was a regular row 
 on. Through this could be heard now and
 
 THE LAST OF THE BOOM 93 
 
 then the strident voice of the secretary going 
 
 through the list of companies, and the scream 
 
 of the buyer and seller. 
 
 Secretary : " Auroras, any offer ? " 
 
 "I'll buy at twenty-four shillings!" came from 
 
 a remote corner of the room. 
 
 "I'll sell at twenty-six ! " cried a voice in the 
 
 neighbourhood of the bar in the alcove. 
 
 o 
 
 " I'll buy at twenty-four and sixpence," shouted 
 the first bidder. 
 
 " I'll sell at twenty-five shillings." 
 
 " How many ? " cries the buyer. 
 
 "How many do you want?" answers the 
 seller. 
 
 "I'll take five hundred," screams the buyer. 
 
 " They are yours." 
 
 That lot disposed of, the busy secretary 
 promptly offers another. 
 
 "Sales at twenty -five shillings, any more 
 buyers ? " No answers forthcoming, he con- 
 tinues in loud tones : " Next Auroras West 
 any buyers ? " Still no answer. 
 
 "Of course," whispers the seller, who had 
 pushed his way to the side of the buyer, "this 
 sale was only shlenter" 
 
 " Certainly," replied the buyer, with a wink. 
 " I would not think of buying even at twenty- 
 five shillings."
 
 94 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " All right ! Of course ! " laughingly answers 
 the seller. 
 
 " Any sellers of Cities ? " continues the secre- 
 tary, taking the next lot, in alphabetical order. 
 
 "I'll sell at ten pounds," shouts a jolly-looking 
 Jew-boy. 
 
 " I'll buy at eight pounds, "yells a young broker. 
 
 " I'll sell at nine pound ten," screams the 
 Jew-boy. 
 
 " I'll sell to arrive at nine pound five." No 
 answer. 
 
 "I'll sell here at nine pounds," persists the 
 Jew-boy. 
 
 " How many ? " shouts the young broker. 
 
 "Two shares," shouts back the Jew-boy. 
 
 "I'll take them," replies the broker, who 
 straightway begins shouting. 
 
 "I'll buy now at nine pound five. At nine 
 pound ten. At nine pound fifteen ; are there 
 any sellers at ten pound ? " No answer. 
 
 " I thought so," he cries, and subsides while 
 the market closes firm, buyers at ten pound ten, 
 no sellers. 
 
 There had not been such a day of excitement 
 in the market for many weeks. It was the last 
 boom the ill-fated Exchange was to see again 
 for many a day to come, and the wise ones, 
 knew it.
 
 THE LAST OF THE BOOM 95 
 
 Meanwhile the unthinking rabble in and out 
 of the Exchange, bought and sold with feverish 
 recklessness, in their anxiety to take advantage 
 of the unexpected boom. 
 
 Like hungry fish, they bit eagerly at the gilded 
 bait thrown them by the many unscrupulous 
 scrip - owners. These offered their shares 
 through their brokers, regardless of the fact 
 that what they knew to be bubbles blown on 
 borrowed bank capital would in all likelihood 
 burst before another twenty -four hours, and 
 the unfortunate buyers and themselves minus 
 money, and plus worthless scrip. 
 
 Such an eager, rollicking, rowdy crowd jostled 
 round a little dark -browed man, dressed in a 
 quiet suit of brown tweed, his wide-brimmed 
 felt hat set well on the back of his head ; his 
 twinkling black eyes sparkled with an unusual 
 lustre, as the throng of boys pressed close to 
 him in their desire to buy up the scrip he 
 offered on behalf of one of the biggest bears 
 of the market. If his hand trembled a bit as 
 he jotted down their names in his notebook, the 
 crowd saw it not. 
 
 He had always come out right, and they be- 
 lieved in him now as before ; for was he not 
 one of the lucky brokers, aye, one of the 
 luckiest ? whose record showed one day alone
 
 96 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 which had brought his client, the big bear, a 
 clear profit of sixty thousand pounds ? Had 
 not his tip turned the hundreds of more than 
 one of the crowd to thousands ? 
 
 They forgot the legend of the pitcher and the 
 well. With good-humoured chaff they bought. 
 He sold with indifference. 
 
 To be a leader in the share market, it was 
 necessary to be a member of the Stock Ex- 
 change, although the formula of admission was 
 strict, apparently, no one being admitted until 
 his name, together with the names of his pro- 
 poser and seconder, had been posted for weeks 
 previous to the taking of the ballot which was 
 to elect him. 
 
 The qualifications necessary for this honour 
 were somewhat mystical. What they really 
 were no man could specify. It might be to 
 possess unlimited cheek, the conscience of a 
 juggler, and a voice whose braying would have 
 outbrayed Balaam's ass. 
 
 These brawlers were reinforced from the 
 purlieus of Petticoat Lane. They lightened 
 the dull days on 'Change with the fire of 
 Clerkenwell fun and Whitechapel chaff. They 
 made noisy the busy ones. 
 
 But it was the men of brain, principal, and 
 interest, who worked the real business. They
 
 THE LAST OF THE BOOM 97 
 
 kept in the rear of the blatant rowdy 
 crowd. 
 
 Very curious and interesting a study was this 
 phase of Johannesburg life ; the stockbrokers 
 of the London Exchange would have opened 
 their eyes to see the class of men who were the 
 ringleaders of the Exchange crowd in Com- 
 missioner Street. It was amazing, as it was 
 amusing, to behold the rapid progress of some 
 of the newly-arrived Jew boys. What though 
 the newcomer was without a shilling in his 
 pocket, he had young blood in him, a happy- 
 go-lucky spirit ready and willing to fight for 
 success, and he had indomitable good-humour. 
 
 Oh, that workers and thinkers would rightly 
 value that inestimable quality of good-humour. 
 A quality with which the Jew is blessed to a 
 marvellous degree. It brings him success in 
 the long-run. These newcomers inside the 
 chains speedily found friends. There was 
 Abrahams, who had changed his name to 
 Richardson why, I know not ; Jacobs, who had 
 adopted the pseudonym of Davis, both respected 
 and successful brokers, ready to give their 
 koscher young brethren a start. 
 
 One fine day these fledglings might be seen 
 on the wing, flying all over the Exchange, 
 offering with astounding cheek to sell and buy,
 
 98 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 not hundreds, but thousands of pounds' worth of 
 stock. Ready and eager to do business on a 
 scale that would have astounded Throgmorton 
 Street. The facility with which these rising 
 speculators would create capital, and wriggle 
 out of a transaction, was marvellous to a 
 degree. It was a matter of little wonder to the 
 older and shrewder brokers when these young 
 birds found themselves snared, and posted for 
 shares they had sold and were unable to deliver, 
 and scrip they had bought and were unable to 
 pay for. 
 
 That these daring young birds, rinding their 
 wings clipped, made no further attempts to fly, 
 would be a false supposition. They lay low for 
 a time. As soon as their feathers had sprouted 
 anew, they were up and flying as high, if not 
 higher, than ever. 
 
 The excitement at 'Change was at its height, 
 the voice of the secretary at its loudest, the 
 clamour of the crowd deafening, when two 
 men entered and elbowed their way to the 
 alcove at one end of the room, dedicated to 
 the bar. 
 
 Now, this little bar was remarkable, if only 
 for one thing, and that was the absence of that 
 Johannesburg divinity, the pretty barmaid. 
 
 She could not rustle her silken skirts, clink
 
 THE LAST OF THE BOOM 99 
 
 the glasses between her be-diamond fingers, 
 nor rest her plump elbows on the marble 
 counter in confidential gossip with some ad- 
 mirer. 
 
 No, the Exchange was an Holy of Holies, 
 never yet desecrated by the frivolous voice and 
 dainty step of the Johannesburg barmaid. 
 
 The men called for a bottle of champagne, 
 and drank it between them. 
 
 One was the ever-smiling Crcesus, looking as 
 calm and collected as a country parson while 
 he drank his wine. The excitement seemed 
 to have no effect whatever on him. 
 
 Not so his companion, a handsome Jew, 
 whose dark eyes were flashing as he looked 
 over the crowd : he was as great an optimist as 
 the bland Crcesus was a pessimist. He believed 
 in everything, but always with a shrewd eye for 
 the needful, which with him meant the disposing 
 of the many stocks in which he was interested. 
 How many they were, no man could exactly 
 tell ; but his principal stocks were known to 
 be Main Reefs, Doornkepes, Auroras, and 
 Knights. 
 
 He did not appear often on 'Change ; when 
 he did, he had a knack of making mysterious 
 remarks, all calculated to impress people favour- 
 ably with the market.
 
 ioo THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " Hi ! " exclaimed a broker, catching sight 
 of him, " there's Karl Hennig. I must get a 
 word with him." 
 
 The broker pushed his way through the 
 throng, anxious to get the first advice before 
 the other brokers surrounded him. 
 
 "I say, Hennig, how's the market?" 
 
 " Look here," he answered impressively, as 
 he laid down his glass on the counter. " I have 
 had some good advices from London. You 
 just buy and wait." 
 
 An advice which the early bird of a broker 
 hastened to act upon ; whether he caught the 
 worm is a matter of mystery. 
 
 When the market looked weak it was a 
 favourite strategy of Hennig to beg to sustain 
 it by making offers to buy, which were some- 
 times accepted to his affected dismay. The 
 man who invariably took advantage of this 
 position was his intimate pal, one Stein, a 
 sleepy-looking shareholder, but who saw more 
 with his eyes closed than many men with both 
 wide open. He was a bit of a sentimentalist, 
 and was probably attracted to the handsome 
 Hennig by his good looks, as well as his 
 character, which displayed now and then 
 romantic tendencies, a quality Stein possessed 
 in no little degree ; as he had proved by making
 
 THE LAST OF THE BOOM 101 
 
 a decidedly romantic marriage, wherein he led 
 to the altar a beautiful young nurse, who had 
 brought him safely through the dangers of a 
 serious crisis of fever. The gallant Stein 
 proved himself as shrewd as he was romantic, 
 in securing for life the service of his skilful 
 nurse. 
 
 The great Crcesus was not a regular attend- 
 ant on 'Change. He seldom operated himself, 
 but issued instructions to his brokers, of whom 
 he had many. The majority mistrusted him, 
 and his brokers got little brokerage from the 
 people. Crcesus did not easily commit himself 
 to any marked opinion, but pretended on the 
 whole to believe in better times. 
 
 As an operator he was not courageous ; and 
 with the prejudice existing against everything 
 connected with him, found it difficult to boom 
 his stock. 
 
 When he had finished his champagne he 
 beckoned to one of the brokers, a young fellow, 
 looking as if he was fresh from college, or ought 
 to have been still there. 
 
 " Can you get me any Consolidateds ? " 
 
 " What would you give?" answered the young 
 broker. 
 
 " What do you buy at ? " queried Crcesus. 
 
 "There are buyers at thirty-nine shillings." 
 
 H
 
 iO2 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " Have you any others at that price ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 ''Well, see what you can get them at," said 
 Croesus, turning again to the bar. 
 
 As soon as the young broker had gone on 
 his mission through the room, Crcesus faced 
 about again and made a sign to another broker 
 to come to him ; this one was old and 
 grizzled. 
 
 "Go," said Crcesus, nodding in the direction 
 of the former broker, "and sell that fellow some 
 Consolidateds. Try to get thirty-nine shillings. 
 But if you can't, sell at thirty-eight." 
 
 Crcesus was apparently engrossed in an argu- 
 ment with Stein and Hennig when the young 
 broker returned. 
 
 " I think I can get you some Consolidateds," 
 he said, "at thirty-nine." 
 
 "Take them," answered Crcesus, "but ask 
 me first." 
 
 In a few minutes the young broker returned 
 saying 
 
 "Yes, I have five hundred at thirty-nine 
 shillings." 
 
 "Sorry," answered Crcesus; "have just 
 bought of another broker and am full now." 
 
 Without a shade of disappointment in his 
 face, the young broker turned and pushed again
 
 THE LAST OF THE BOOM 103 
 
 through the crowd, where he was soon in the 
 midst of a new transaction. 
 
 " I say," cried a seedy-looking broker to one 
 of the best dressed men on 'Change, "will you 
 sell me some Buffelsdorn on time, Mr Tyler ? " 
 
 "Couldn't sell them," replied Tyler. "I'm 
 buying myself. Whq, wants them ? " 
 
 " Oh, Smith wants some very badly. You 
 ought to let the poor fellow have some ; he has 
 been losing lately." 
 
 " Well, you see, I have none left ; but I know 
 of a man in the Colony who would sell that 
 way, and just to oblige Smith would let him 
 have three thousand at fifty-six shillings one 
 month, but don't press it." 
 
 The seedy broker departed well satisfied, 
 knowing as he did that there was not a kinder- 
 hearted man on 'Change than the dandy Tyler, 
 the dispenser of the most gorgeous balls and 
 hospitality in all the Rand. 
 
 Another character of the Exchange was 
 Daly ; he dealt chiefly in Rietvliers. 
 
 "I'll buy Rietvliers." He was selling at four- 
 teen shillings. 
 
 " I'll sell to arrive at fourteen shillings," cried 
 Graham, one of the most persistent sellers in 
 the room. 
 
 No answer.
 
 io4 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " I'll sell to arrive at thirteen shillings and 
 ninepence," persisted Graham. 
 
 " How many ? " cried Daly. 
 
 " Five hundred." 
 
 "I'll take them," cried Daly. 
 
 "I'll still sell to arrive at thirteen and nine- 
 pence," continued Graham, "I'll sell at thirteen 
 and sixpence at thirteen and threepence." 
 
 " Give it up," said Daly to his broker. " We 
 must wait for some time when Graham is not 
 on 'Change to do anything." 
 
 As Daly turned away, his youthful counte- 
 nance showing signs of disgusted annoyance, 
 and prepared to leave the Exchange, an inten- 
 tion which was easier to conceive than to carry 
 out, for his last words were drowned in a pro- 
 longed dismal howl mingled with shouts and 
 laughter interspersed by cries of 
 
 "A fight! a fight! I bet on the bull- 
 terrier." 
 
 He joined the crowd near the door, all of 
 whom were eagerly watching the sight which, 
 to all intents and purposes, was evidently of 
 greater importance to them than the record 
 of business promulgated in the momentous 
 accounts of the secretary. 
 
 Daly speedily forgot the source of his annoy- 
 ance, and his face lit up pleasantly as he espied
 
 THE LAST OF THE BOOM 105 
 
 the scene of excitement ; which consisted in the 
 determined if somewhat unequal combat of two 
 dogs, the stronger of which, a powerful bull- 
 terrier of good breed, had fastened his fangs 
 in the neck of his antagonist, a much smaller 
 animal, whose pluck availed him little against the 
 superior powers of the terrier. The poor brute 
 had given up all attempts at dislodging his 
 formidable adversary, and was giving vent to a 
 series of piteous howls, while from his poor 
 little body, torn and mangled by the cruel teeth 
 of the other, hung strips of skin. Bleeding 
 horribly, he still struggled ; while the crowd of 
 brokers and shareholders urged on the terrier 
 to finish his half-dead victim. 
 
 " Cowardly brute," insisted his unnatural 
 master, a tall, bony Scotchman. " Fight him, 
 Nero ! don't give in ! " 
 
 " For shame ! " exclaimed a quiet looker-on. 
 " Dog-fights are under no circumstances better 
 than sheer brutality ; but to match an animal 
 like yours against that powerful beast is nothing 
 short of cowardly and disgraceful." 
 
 But the sentiment was evidently not in 
 harmony with the majority, who cheered and 
 laughed themselves hoarse ; until at length the 
 Scotchman, probably afraid of the pecuniary 
 loss that the death of his dog might incur, began
 
 io6 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 to belabour the terrier with his heavy boot, and 
 succeeded in rescuing his dog more dead than 
 alive, in order, no doubt, that he might live to 
 fight another day. 
 
 The gratified audience heaved a sigh of 
 regret as they turned away, some to refresh 
 their excited nerves at the bar, others to again 
 busy themselves in the share market, while the 
 secretary resumed his labours, his voice quite 
 fresh and ringing as he called 
 
 " Monte Christoes any buyers ? "
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 A TYPICAL LADY OF THE BAR 
 
 " I SAY there, Mrs Koker ! Mrs Koker! where 
 the devil are you ? " 
 
 The speaker emphasised each exclamation by 
 a vigorous whack with his riding-whip on the 
 counter of the bar, in which demonstration he 
 was seconded by his companion, a tall, extremely 
 thin man, who lazily tapped on an empty tumbler 
 near his elbow. 
 
 " M-e-ses Ko-ker ! " he drawled. 
 
 " Y-e-s," answered a voice from the far inte- 
 rior of somewhere behind the bar-room. "I'm 
 coming. Wait a mo-ment." 
 
 "Wait nothing! Hurry up, I say." 
 
 This impatiently from the first speaker, a 
 handsome saturnine type of the Boer. 
 
 A moment or two passed, while the young 
 men sauntered to the door for the fifth or sixth 
 time to look at their horses, standing in the 
 early morning sunshine, pawing the red dust, 
 munching their silver bits and flicking a fly now 
 and then from their sides with their long glossy 
 tails.
 
 io8 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 The men regarded with evident satisfaction 
 their property held well in hand by two dirty, 
 ragged Kafir boys. 
 
 "Don't pull the bridle so hard," drawled the 
 tall German. 
 
 "All right, Baas," answered one of the 
 Kafirs. 
 
 " Well, what is it to be ? " said the lady of 
 the bar, as she appeared behind the counter. 
 
 " A whisky split, if you please." 
 
 " My stars, but you boys are early customers 
 this morning. I don't believe you have been to 
 bed at all." 
 
 " Oh, yes we have, Mrs Koker," replied the 
 saturnine man, laughing at her chaff. " Steady, 
 not too much soda." 
 
 " There you are," pushing the glasses towards 
 them. 
 
 " Oh, that's good ! " drawled the German, 
 draining his glass. 
 
 " Have another ? " said his companion. 
 
 " I don't mind." 
 
 "Well, help yourselves," said Mrs Koker, 
 amiably pushing the bottle forward, " while I 
 open the soda." 
 
 When the glasses were filled Mrs Koker 
 folded her arms on the counter and looked 
 smilingly at the men. She was waiting for
 
 A TYPICAL LADY OF THE BAR 109 
 
 confidences. It was the usual thing with men 
 after their second whisky. 
 
 She felt curious to know what they were 
 up to so early on this bright morning. A 
 rendezvous, she thought, as her eyes caught 
 sight of the horses now being led up and down 
 the roadway by the attendant Kafirs. 
 
 Still she made no remark. It was her 
 business to appear discreet. No questions 
 asked was her invariable rule ; a wise one 
 indeed, whereby she learnt more than any 
 cross-questioning could have revealed to her. 
 
 Now this was no ordinary bar-lady. 
 
 She was the mother of a small family, with a 
 good-looking little husband, considerably her 
 junior, more fit to be her son and the brother 
 of her pretty daughter by a former husband, 
 so people said. 
 
 She was also a very ladylike, pretty woman 
 for her years. Bar-tending had not always 
 been her occupation ; and she made her cus- 
 tomers feel her superiority over the frivolous 
 beauty who presided at the Heights Hotel bar, 
 within calling distance of her own domicile. 
 
 They had pretty much the same class of 
 men who, when tired of the Hotel bar, would 
 invariably take another glass at Mrs Koker's, 
 if only to chat with her jolly little daughter.
 
 no THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 That Mrs Koker knew how to keep unde- 
 sirable admirers at a distance, was well known. 
 This brought her a certain amount of respect. 
 She doled out her amiability judiciously, always 
 with a keen eye to the mercenary advantages 
 to be gained thereby. 
 
 The two men on the other side of her counter 
 might be turned to profitable account sooner 
 or later, thought this practical little woman. 
 Especially the handsome Boer, into whose debt 
 her young husband had foolishly slipped one 
 day at the races, when under the fly-blown 
 enthusiasm of champagne. He borrowed a 
 few hundred pounds of him ; the Boer, equally 
 elated by copious draughts of brandy and soda, 
 and success in betting, forgot his usual caution 
 in the matter of parting with the 'ready,' and 
 let him have the money. 
 
 Now, this debt had been a thorn in Mrs 
 Koker's bosom. She felt very sore about it. 
 Times had begun to grow bad, and bad had 
 grown worse ; consequently Mrs Koker felt it 
 would be a waste of money to pay the debt, 
 provided the handsome Boer could be con- 
 ciliated by a few harmless blandishments. 
 
 And the German ? Well, he might be good 
 for a jewelled bangle or diamond ring for her 
 daughter Letty. Then, he bore a respectable
 
 A TYPICAL LADY OF THE BAR 1 1 1 
 
 title, modestly worn, to be sure. There was 
 just the possibility thought Mrs Koker, as she 
 gazed pensively at the glass of sparkling soda 
 and whisky in his hand that something more 
 lasting than a ring or bangle might be secured 
 for her Letty. Baroness would be a pretty 
 handle to her name. 
 
 So she set to work this bright Sunday morn- 
 ing, perhaps for lack of something better to do, 
 perhaps for the mere love of weaving a spell, 
 for she was too fond of her young husband to 
 resort to intrigue herself of conquest for her 
 pretty daughter. 
 
 Some women can hypnotise a man's thoughts 
 right out of his head, as easily as a corkscrew 
 pulls out a cork, and with infinitely less trouble. 
 It is the blue-eyed, blonde, guileless-looking 
 women that can perform these magnetic feats 
 to perfection. 
 
 Mrs Koker was blonde, or had been in her 
 youth, and was so still by the use of lean dor ; 
 and she had innocent blue eyes that stared 
 through their long, light lashes. They were 
 small, deep -set, sleepy -looking eyes, full of 
 hypnotic power, of which the little woman was 
 unconscious. She vaguely knew that therein 
 lay some power or other by which she could do 
 pretty much as she liked with people.
 
 112 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 The two men sipped at their whisky quite 
 leisurely. They seemed to have forgotten their 
 hurry. Mrs Koker's eyes began to take effect. 
 The German felt quite sympathetically drawn 
 to the little woman. 
 
 " I would like very much, my dear Mrs 
 Koker, to take you out for a canter this lovely 
 morning." 
 
 This was drawled out with just a suspicion of 
 an accent. Mrs Koker elevated her eyebrows 
 and shook her head discreetly. 
 
 " I say," laughed the other, " it would do you 
 good." 
 
 " Not this morning, thank you, gentlemen ! " 
 and Mrs Koker beamed. " Besides," she added, 
 " I am sure you are provided with company." 
 
 " Right you are," cried he of the saturnine 
 face. 
 
 " Then there was no chance for Letty after 
 all," thought the lady of the bar. 
 
 " I'll tell you, Mrs Koker," drawled the 
 German, "I'll tell you all about it ; we are going 
 to have a little picnic, with two ladies," winking 
 knowingly. " But before we go, another split, 
 please." 
 
 " So early," said Mrs Koker demurely, as 
 she served the whisky and soda. 
 
 "We are going to Half- Way House; the
 
 A TYPICAL LADY OF THE BAR 113 
 
 ladies meet us at the cricket grounds ; and we'll 
 all ride out together." 
 
 " Oh," purred Mrs Koker, " but you should 
 be more gallant. Why not call for them ? " 
 
 " They are two of Laville's girls, you know." 
 
 "Oh, I see," murmured Mrs Koker, sym- 
 pathisingly. " It is unreasonable to be so strict 
 with the chorus ladies." 
 
 "So you see," continued the German, "we 
 can't go near the chambers." 
 
 " No," said the other. " The little duffer has 
 sworn to punch the head of every fellow he 
 catches calling on the girls." 
 
 "Well, you can't blame him," said Mrs 
 Koker, as her mind reverted to a refractory 
 barmaid assistant, who was at that moment 
 sleeping off the effects of a night's debauch. 
 " Laville must have a chorus, you know ; he 
 can't give an opera properly without one." 
 
 "Very true," answered the German. "But 
 our girls have stuck bravely to their contract, 
 and I don't see why they should suffer for the 
 others who have left him." 
 
 "Or he has sold," laughingly added his 
 companion. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " queried Mrs Koker. 
 
 " Is it possible you have never heard that 
 queer story from Kimberley ? "
 
 ii4 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " No ! " 
 
 " Well, here it is, then. Laville, you know, 
 wanted a bang-up chorus ; so he went to Lon- 
 don with a view to importing one, and secured 
 a round dozen, I believe. However, he only 
 succeeded in bringing half that number to the 
 Rand. The girls were too good-looking, you 
 know. Two or three made matches on board 
 the Roslin, and gave Laville the slip. At 
 Kimberley another slipped off. Laville was 
 as mad as a hatter. So you see, when Dave 
 Cross set his cap at one of the prettiest little 
 women amongst those left, Laville raised the 
 very devil. Couldn't blame him, now, could 
 you ? " and the German smiled persuasively. 
 
 " I should think not," said Mrs Koker, with 
 a sniff and an indignant toss of her head. 
 
 " Dave wanted the girl badly, so he offered 
 to refund her passage money. Laville refused ; 
 he was not going to lose one of his best chorus 
 girls for a trifle. However, after a lot of hag- 
 gling on both sides, Dave planked down two 
 hundred pounds, and got the girl." 
 
 Mrs Koker laughed heartily ; her . eyes 
 sparkled with greed at the thought of Laville's 
 clever transaction. 
 
 11 Of course," she said, with a prudish pucker 
 of the mouth, " they got married ? "
 
 A TYPICAL LADY OF THE BAR 115 
 
 " Of course," echoed the Boer, mimicking her 
 tone, " as much as they ever do here." 
 
 At which the three laughed long and loudly. 
 
 " What's all this about ? " queried a sweet 
 voice. 
 
 The two men doffed their caps as their eyes 
 rested admiringly on as pretty a vision as one 
 would wish to see, standing in the doorway 
 behind the bar. 
 
 She looked barely older than sixteen. There 
 was refinement and intellect in the lovely face 
 framed in its aureole of golden hair. The slight 
 elegant little figure was robed in a babyish-look- 
 ing gown of white, fastened at the waist by a 
 broad sash of blue silk. The wide flowing 
 sleeves revealed a glimpse to the elbows of a 
 pair of plump and dimpled arms. 
 
 " What's all this about ? Tell me ; I want to 
 laugh too." This with a delicious pout. 
 
 " No, child," answered Mrs Koker. " It is 
 not for little girls to hear." 
 
 " Good morning, Miss Letty," said the 
 German. 
 
 " Good morning," she answered a little stiffly. 
 She rewarded the handsome Boer's salutation 
 with a coquettish nod of her pretty head. 
 
 " You're looking positively charming this 
 morning, Miss Letty," he said, insinuatingly.
 
 n6 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " Your trip to Pretoria has done you 
 good." 
 
 A sudden rush of crimson dyed the face and 
 neck of the young girl ; but she returned the 
 man's mocking glance unflinchingly as she 
 answered steadily 
 
 "It has, thank you." 
 
 Mrs Koker looked at the Boer, and hastened 
 to say in as careless a tone as her temper would 
 permit 
 
 " I don't need you, daughter ! " 
 
 " All right, mamma, dear," and she disap- 
 peared in the room behind the bar. 
 
 " I say, Mrs Koker, don't drive Miss Letty 
 away." 
 
 " No, do call her back," said the Boer, 
 possessing himself of one of Mrs Koker's hands. 
 
 " I don't like my Letty to hear naughty 
 gossip," said Mrs Koker, permitting him to 
 hold her hand. " She is so young, and I 
 want to keep her innocent of the world's 
 sinfulness as long as I can." 
 
 " Quite right, Mrs Koker," said the Boer. 
 
 A mysterious fit of coughing seized upon his 
 companion, who rushed to the door, glass in 
 hand, to get air. The Boer promptly availed 
 himself of the opportunity to whisper a few 
 words to Mrs Koker.
 
 A TYPICAL LADY OF THE BAR 1 1 7 
 
 " What a nice white little wrist, you have ! " 
 he whispered, insinuatingly. " A diamond 
 bracelet would become it wonderfully, eh ? " 
 
 " Of course," answered Mrs Koker, with a 
 pleased smile. 
 
 " Then you shall have the handsomest in the 
 Camp." 
 
 "What is he up to?" thought Mrs Koker, 
 but she gave no sign of what was passing in 
 her mind. She was thoroughly accustomed to 
 humouring the vagaries of her patrons, and 
 knew that many brilliant promises made over 
 the bar were born of the generosity begotten in 
 the sparkling exhilaration of champagne and 
 soda and as effervescing. 
 
 A series of nods from each side of the counter 
 seemed to silently settle the matter of the 
 bracelet. 
 
 " You know, Mrs Koker," resumed the Boer 
 in a whisper, " Teddy has not settled that 
 racing debt with me yet ? " 
 
 " Oh, I know," purred Mrs Koker, gently 
 pressing his hand. "That will be all right; he 
 is awfully worried over it. Do give poor Teddy 
 a little more time ! " 
 
 " Of course I will. But ' whispering still 
 lower, and leaning half way across the bar in 
 his eagerness " I'll do better than that. I'll 
 
 i
 
 n8 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 call it square if you say a good word for me 
 with Miss Letty." 
 
 " Certainly I will," answered Mrs Koker, 
 with an innocent look. 
 
 " Oh ! but you don't understand," he per- 
 sisted. " I don't mean in the ordinary 
 way." 
 
 Mrs Koker's heart gave a great bound. 
 
 Was this a proposal for the hand of her 
 daughter Letty ? 
 
 But the words which followed disabused her 
 mind of any such hope. 
 
 "I'm fond of that pretty girl of yours, and 
 I'd give anything I possess to make her 
 
 " The missus ? " insinuated Mrs Koker. 
 
 " Oh ! Go on ! I'm not a marrying man, 
 Mrs Koker, but I'd give anything to to- 
 well, to make Letty a lady, and the envy of 
 the Camp." 
 
 Mrs Koker made no reply. The shock of 
 the brutal proposal was too much even for her 
 feelings, hardened as they were by the experi- 
 ence of years of mining-camp life. She did not 
 raise her eyes from the counter, although the 
 colour had faded beneath the rouge on her 
 cheeks, as the Boer continued, emboldened by 
 her silence, 
 
 " I'll wipe out that five hundred, as clean as
 
 A TYPICAL LADY OF THE BAR 119 
 
 an aasvogel finishes a bullock, if you'll give me 
 Letty ! " 
 
 " Five hundred," answered Mrs Koker, in a 
 strained whisper, as she abruptly withdrew her 
 hand, and flashed a blazing glance through her 
 half-closed eyes at the leering, handsome face 
 close to hers, which if a look could have burned 
 would have shrivelled up the Boer. 
 
 " Five hundred pounds!" she repeated. "No, 
 not five thousand pounds!" bringing the tumbler 
 nearest her, as she clutched it, down with a force 
 that shivered it to pieces on the counter. "Not 
 fifty times five hundred pounds would I take to 
 sell my girl to you or any other man ! " 
 
 " Ho, ho ! Mrs Koker, don't get excited," 
 said the Boer, placidly brushing the broken 
 glass aside with his whip. " She might do 
 worse. I can't marry just yet, for family rea- 
 sons, but I'll do the right thing by her. I'll do 
 it handsome. Letty won't object, I'm sure ; she 
 always has a smile for me little beauty ! " 
 
 "If you think, Jan Vanderbosch," gasped 
 Mrs Koker, " that my girl would do wrong, 
 you mistake her. Don't you suppose that be- 
 cause I stand behind a bar, and sometimes let 
 my daughter serve you, that I am not a mother, 
 and a woman to be respected. I like money, 
 and work hard enough to get it but I don't
 
 I2O THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 want it at such a price as that. No. I'd 
 sooner sell every stick we possess, and pay 
 you your beastly five hundred, than you should 
 dare to put a hand on my girl ! " 
 
 "Ho, ho ! " a soft laugh rippling his face. 
 "We'll see, Mrs Koker, we'll see. Leave that 
 to me ; I'll manage it." 
 
 Further talk was prevented by the entrance 
 of the German, purple in the face from a 
 paroxysm of coughing. 
 
 "There, Fritz," cried the Boer, advancing 
 towards him, "that will relieve you," giving 
 him a few smart pats on the back. " I say," 
 looking at his watch, "it is time to meet the 
 ladies ; let's be off." 
 
 "Another whisky split, Mrs Koker; I'm nearly 
 choked with this cough." 
 
 " Won't you join us ? " 
 
 " No, thanks all the same though," she said, 
 softening her refusal with a smile. " I never 
 drink when serving my customers ; it is a bad 
 plan, and has ruined my assistant, Molly. If it 
 wasn't for that failing, she would be the best 
 barmaid in the Rand. Now don't run away 
 with the girls." 
 
 " Don't you be afraid, Mrs Koker. We'll 
 not give Laville another chase to Heidelberg. 
 One such is enough for him."
 
 A TYPICAL LADY OF THE BAR 121 
 
 " Poor little man, what trouble he has with 
 that chorus, to be sure ! Has he got her 
 back ? " 
 
 " Yes, she's back safe enough ; but David- 
 son's dreadfully cut up about it ; he vows he'll 
 get her away again if he has to marry her." 
 
 " Well, chin-chin, Mrs Koker ! " 
 
 The lady of the bar followed the two young 
 men to the door, and stood on the stoop while 
 they mounted their horses, now in a state of 
 almost unruly restlessness. In a moment they 
 were tearing through the roadway in the direc- 
 tion of the cricket-ground, leaving a whirlwind 
 of red dust behind them. 
 
 Mrs Koker watched them out of sight. A 
 curious smile played round her thin lips as she 
 turned and re-entered the bar. Her face bore 
 the look of one who had made up her mind to 
 do an unpleasant thing. 
 
 Her ladyship of the bar was in anything but 
 a holy temper this lovely Sabbath morn. "That 
 beast of a Molly," was her first grievance. As 
 she thought of the wretched girl, she gave a 
 vixenish grip to the bottle she was replacing 
 among its fellows on the shelf, as though she 
 would twist its neck in lieu of the unfortunate 
 Molly's. 
 
 Her second grievance was that she, the fas-
 
 122 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 tidious Mrs Koker, was obliged to serve the few 
 loiterers who were likely to drop in ; her usual 
 proud post being the little parlour behind the 
 bar, where she dispensed champagne and such 
 like expensive drinks to a few, a very few 
 favoured ones. 
 
 Grievance number three was that dear hubby 
 of hers ; had he not promised faithfully to be 
 back from Potchefstroom by Sunday evening ? 
 " The Lord alone knows what capers he's up 
 to," she thought, as she viciously flicked the 
 flies off the counter. 
 
 And fourth, and last, and worst grievance of 
 all, was the scene she had just gone through 
 with Jan Vanderbosch. That Letty had been 
 guilty of some secret indiscretion with the 
 handsome Boer, she did not doubt for a moment. 
 His words, " She has always a smile for me," 
 convinced her of the fact. 
 
 Now, Mrs Koker was thoroughly imbued 
 with the idea, and stood in awe of the African 
 custom, that any indiscretion on the part of a 
 young maiden considerably lessened, and in 
 flagrant cases utterly destroyed, her marriage- 
 able value. Mrs Koker 's grand dream was a 
 profitable alliance for her pretty daughter. She 
 knew the young Boer would be a desirable 
 match ; and the bare thought that Letty had
 
 A TYPICAL LADY OF THE BAR 123 
 
 damaged her chances with him, by some of 
 those new-fangled tricks introduced to the 
 Rand by the young ladies imported from the 
 Cape or the old country, called flirtations, made 
 her furious against the poor child. 
 
 " Yes Letty had done something foolish. 
 Letty had been corrupted by the example of 
 those fly-away chorus-girls. Letty must be 
 punished, must be read a lecture she would not 
 soon forget ; and that before Teddy returned, 
 for was not Teddy like the rest of these silly 
 Englishmen a perfect fool where a pretty face 
 was concerned? 
 
 " Letty ! " she screamed shrilly ; " Letty, I 
 want you ! "
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 A CRY IN THE NIGHT THE VANQUISHER 
 
 VANQUISHED 
 
 "YES, mother." 
 
 Children, very young people, and dogs share 
 in common a keen discrimination of tone. They 
 instinctively judge the character, temperament, 
 and mood of those around them by the voice. 
 We who are older, seared and hardened by daily 
 contact with the outer world, little know the 
 subtle changes that betray the different phases 
 of the mind. We may have known it when we 
 were little toddlers, or on the verge of emanci- 
 pation from the schoolroom. That inner sense, 
 that subtle delicate chord thrilling like an 
 ^olian harp, sweet or harsh beneath the 
 breath of a gentle or discordant breeze, vanishes 
 with the many happy delusions of childhood. 
 
 And Letty, poor little soul, was not too old 
 to have lost that childish keenness of instinct. 
 She knew as she heard her mother's voice 
 what it meant, another something. What if a 
 shudder passed through her body ? She went
 
 A CRY IN THE NIGHT 125 
 
 bravely to meet her mother's commands. In- 
 stinctively she coupled the tone of voice with 
 the mocking smile of the handsome Boer. 
 
 How loudly beat the poor little heart. That 
 would never betray her. But her voice ! oh, 
 that voice ! it would lose its childish tone ; it 
 would betray that it knew what was coming, and 
 that filial duty prompted the formal 
 
 " Yes, mother." 
 
 " Don't 'Yes, mother,' me! " 
 
 Now Mrs Koker invariably worked herself 
 into a perfect frenzy of passion when she had to 
 do anything that did not exactly please her. 
 
 " I want you to tell me the truth have you 
 been carrying on with Jan Vanderbosch ? " 
 
 " No, mother," cried the girl in tremulous 
 tones, " I only rode out with him once towards 
 Pretoria 
 
 "What?" screamed Mrs Koker; "so you 
 have been taking rides with him. There," deal- 
 ing a series of stinging cuffs on the round soft 
 cheeks, "I'll teach you better ! " 
 
 The girl shrank back into a ledge between 
 the bar and the corner of the room, her blue 
 eyes staring through their tears as she watched 
 in an agony of terror the angry face of her 
 mother. 
 
 " Now listen to what I have to tell you,"
 
 126 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 panted Mrs Koker. "Jan Vanderbosch is a 
 bad, wicked man. He means no good by 
 you." 
 
 Letty drew her breath quickly and raised 
 her head with a little gesture of pride. Mrs 
 Koker noted the effect of her words, and went 
 on, secretly pleased with the girl's attitude of 
 indignation. 
 
 " You are too good to suffer insults at his 
 hands. I have brought you up better than 
 that. He only wants to amuse himself with 
 you. He don't want to marry you. So just 
 you take care of yourself." 
 
 Letty turned crimson with shame at the 
 thought of what her mother's outspoken, almost 
 brutal words implied. 
 
 " Yes, I mean what I say. I have good cause 
 to know his intentions ; and if I catch you or 
 hear of you having anything to say to him 
 
 after this I'll " snatching a light whip 
 
 from its place on the wall, and shaking it over 
 Letty 's head, "I'll give you a lashing, and 
 then send you to Om Peit, where you'll not 
 see a white man for months, and wear nothing 
 but old frocks. There, now look after the bar," 
 said Mrs Koker, as she replaced the whip, 
 feeling better since the trying scene with her 
 daughter was over, " while I go and see if I
 
 A CRY IN THE NIGHT 127 
 
 can't get Molly on her feet. If anyone comes, 
 call me." 
 
 When her mother had gone, Letty dropped 
 her head on the bar, and gave way to a tempest 
 of tears. Although her cheeks were smarting, 
 her eyes burning, and a terrible feeling of 
 home-sickness overcame her at the prospect of 
 being sent away to the lonely, dreary life on 
 the farm of Om Peit, her dead father's brother, 
 where only Kafir herdsmen and native women 
 shared the solitude of the big, coarse, Boer 
 farmer, and the still coarser Tante Suije ; all 
 that was nothing to the pain of mortified pride 
 and injured modesty which wrung her innocent 
 heart on hearing her mother's revelation of the 
 wickedness of Jan Vanderbosch. 
 
 A feeling of loathing took the place of the 
 admiration she had secretly cherished for the 
 handsome Boer. Her cheeks burned with a 
 keener twinge than ever her mother's hand 
 could have inflicted, as her mind reverted to 
 that stolen ride to Pretoria. 
 
 With a sudden gesture of infinite passion, she 
 smote her little right hand. 
 
 " He dared to kiss me there," she cried half 
 aloud. " Oh, I wish I could burn out the flesh 
 that his wicked^lips have touched ! "
 
 128 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 Then she dropped her head once more on 
 the counter and sobbed anew. 
 
 There is no sorrow so pitiful, no realisation 
 so terrible, as that of an innocent heart when 
 first brought face to face with the depravity 
 of the world. True, Letty had lived the major 
 part of her short life behind her mother's bar, 
 yet she had passed unscathed amid the dissipa- 
 tion and sinful scenes around her. Fast and 
 reckless as the men were who patronised her 
 mother's bar, they had, to a man, treated the 
 beautiful child with tender consideration and 
 half-quixotic respect : and thus she grew up, 
 amid those hostile surroundings, as some fair, 
 fragrant flower flourishes in a garden of noxious 
 weeds. 
 
 If vague hints reached her of sin, or an 
 instinctive dread arose within her at times of 
 unseen dangers to her innocence, they left her 
 unharmed, as the poisonous breath of the weeds 
 upon the fair flower. She, like the flower, 
 bore within her the strengthening breath of 
 purity which sweetened the very air around 
 her. 
 
 But now, alas ! all that was changed, for the 
 hand of her mother, her dear mother, whom, 
 with all her faults, she passionately loved 
 that hand had rudely torn aside the veil divid-
 
 A CRY IN THE NIGHT 129 
 
 ing childhood and womanhood ; plunged the 
 first spear of doubt and distrust in the quivering 
 heart, when she revealed the baseness, the 
 loathsomeness of the man whom that loving 
 little heart had singled out as the ideal of its 
 innocent dreams. 
 
 Thus the pure eyes were opened, and a child 
 went forth a woman, with no armour, save the 
 frail shield of modesty, to fight the long, hard 
 battle. 
 
 As Letty's sobs grew fainter she heard a 
 horse dash up to the door. Looking up, she 
 saw a blurred vision of a man dismounting, 
 but her swollen eyes could not for the moment 
 distinguish him until he stood beside her, 
 saying 
 
 "What's the matter, Letty?" 
 
 " Oh ! Dad Teddy ! why didn't you come 
 home last night ? " was Letty's answer, as she 
 wound her arms about his neck, and burst into 
 a fresh shower of tears. 
 
 Meanwhile Mrs Koker was going through a 
 stormy scene with the refractory Molly. 
 
 She lay on a low bed in a tiny room. It 
 opened on a stone-paved courtyard, which 
 formed a sort of open-air lumber-room, with its 
 mound of empty bottles heaped up in one 
 corner, as w r ell as a fowl-yard, with its chicken-
 
 130 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 coop in another corner ; a shelter the feathered 
 inmates evidently discarded during the day, to 
 judge by the manner in which they availed 
 themselves of the freedom of the court, the 
 house, and even the bar. 
 
 This accommodating courtyard likewise 
 served as a kitchen, where the half-breed 
 maid prepared the family meals on a rusty 
 stove propped up in a third corner. A steam- 
 ing coffee-pot sent forth a fragrant odour as 
 the yellow maid poured its contents into the 
 bowl in her hand. 
 
 Mrs Koker had already exhausted breath and 
 muscle in her efforts to rouse the stupefied 
 Molly from her sleep. 
 
 " Leave me alone," at last grunted the girl ; 
 " I ain't slept enough." 
 
 " Oh, you drunken wretch ! " groaned Mrs 
 Koker, " shall I never break you of that terrible 
 habit ? " 
 
 This lament was lost, as Molly sank back on 
 the bed apparently in a deeper stupor than ever. 
 
 " Put down the coffee," cried Mrs Koker to 
 the maid, "and pull her feet while I lift her so 
 that we may get her on the floor." 
 
 But their combined efforts only landed Molly 
 on the side of the bed, where she sat supported 
 by Mrs Koker's arms.
 
 A CRY IN THE NIGHT 131 
 
 " Now put the bowl of coffee to her mouth." 
 
 The maid obeyed with alacrity, for the coffee 
 was very hot, and she felt a secret delight in 
 the prospect of scalding the unfortunate Molly's 
 palate. 
 
 But, to the maid's amazement, Molly, on 
 feeling the bowl touch her lips, took a long 
 draught with evident relish, and then opened 
 her eyes. 
 
 " Ah ! " she sighed, " now I feel better." 
 
 " It's time, you horrid beast ! " exclaimed 
 Mrs Koker. 
 
 " Don't ' horrid beast ' me," she cried, 
 struggling to her feet. "If I am overcome 
 now and then, it's all your fault ; you're never 
 satisfied. You want me to sell a lot, and if I 
 sell a lot of drink, I must drink too ! " and 
 Molly's voice ended in a sound between a 
 shriek and a howl. 
 
 " Oh, listen to that ! " cried Mrs Koker, 
 appealing to the yellow maid, who stood by, 
 grinning, and the bare walls around her. 
 
 " Yes," blurted Molly, " you row me when I 
 sell eighteen-penny drinks. I must make them 
 open champagne ; and if they do, I must drink 
 with them, to make them drink more. And if 
 I get boozed whose fault is it ? yours, yours. 
 The profits go into your pocket so don't you
 
 132 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 call me names, if you please if you please 
 Mrs Koker." 
 
 This was altogether too much for Mrs 
 Koker's patience, already worn out by the 
 exciting events of the morning ; and a terrible 
 war of words ensued. 
 
 The yellow maid hid behind the chicken-coop, 
 where she gave vent to a paroxysm of silent 
 laughter which shook her fat sides and sent 
 tears to her beady eyes. This babel of screams, 
 words, and imprecations was suddenly inter- 
 rupted by a voice exclaiming 
 
 "What, in heaven's name, is the matter, 
 Fanny ? " 
 
 It was Mr Koker. 
 
 The sound of his voice stilled the tumult and 
 brought the women to their senses. 
 
 Molly hurried away to look after the bar ; she 
 was sober now, and rather ashamed of herself, 
 and sought by bustling about and clearing up 
 the bar to make up for her lapse of duty. 
 
 " It's all your fault, Teddy," blubbered Mrs 
 Koker, as she sat in the little parlour, looking 
 the picture of woe. 
 
 "It's all your fault ; I've been in a rage all 
 the morning because you did not come back 
 from Potchefstroom last night. There's Molly, 
 dead drunk since last night. And then I had
 
 A CRY IN THE NIGHT 133 
 
 such a scene with my poor little girl, all on 
 account of Jan Vanderbosch. I had to beat 
 her it went to my heart to do it but it's the 
 only way to cure her of flirting with him 
 
 " There, there," said Teddy, soothingly, 
 " I'll look after him. Letty has told me all. 
 I'll look after kirn" 
 
 "You must never stay away over night again. 
 I I was so uneasy about you," whimpered 
 Mrs Koker, cautiously omitting to speak of 
 her jealous doubts. " And it was so mortifying 
 to be obliged to serve whisky to those fast boys, 
 Teddy." 
 
 " It was, indeed, love," said Teddy. 
 
 And so ended the morning's troubles. 
 
 It was long past midnight, when Letty was 
 awakened by a sound at the door of her room. 
 As the room opened directly on the street, she 
 thought nothing of it. Probably some one 
 belonging to the adjoining building had mis- 
 taken the door. She settled her little head 
 more cosily on the pillow and dozed off again. 
 
 Presently she was again awakened. This time 
 the sound of her name called in muffled tones 
 floated through the door, and aroused her. 
 
 It was the voice of Jan Vanderbosch. 
 
 For a moment the blood seemed to surge 
 
 K
 
 134 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 away from her heart, leaving her faint and 
 trembling. Then her courage returned as a 
 wave of doubt swept over her. 
 
 " Perhaps I was dreaming," she murmured. 
 
 But the next instant her doubt vanished, as 
 she beheld, distinctly outlined by the full 
 bright rays of the moon, the figure of a man 
 on the thin muslin curtains draping the 
 window. 
 
 A childish fear of the dark had induced her 
 before retiring to pull up the window blind to 
 its highest, in order that the light of the moon 
 might keep her company while she slept. 
 
 Her innocent device had laid a trap for her. 
 It was that which had attracted Jan Vander- 
 bosch as he rode slowly past on his way home 
 after a drinking-bout. 
 
 He could not resist the temptation of peeping 
 into that little chamber. He had no intention 
 of harming or alarming the sleeping inmate 
 when he dismounted from his horse. Some- 
 thing in the wine he had drunk, or that mys- 
 terious influence which spurs men on to sudden 
 deeds of evil, roused in him a desire to enter 
 the room. 
 
 So he first cautiously tried the door, then 
 whispered softly Letty's name, and was trying 
 the window when she awoke.
 
 A CRY IN THE NIGHT 135 
 
 Letty's blood ran cold as she suddenly re- 
 membered that the window was unlatched. 
 
 What should she do ? 
 
 But she had no time to consider that im- 
 portant question, or devise means of escape. 
 She beheld from her pillow, the sash slowly and 
 noiselessly raised, and a pair of hands rest on 
 the sill of the window. Jan was evidently listen- 
 ing, or it may have been hesitating, before he 
 raised the sash further ; but whatever it was, it 
 saved Letty. 
 
 Now, Letty was, despite her barely sixteen 
 years and slender little physique, as sinewy and 
 strong as a young springbok. In her veins ran 
 sturdy Boer blood commingled with English 
 blood, that gave her both strength and pluck. 
 As she beheld the hesitation of the intruder, 
 and the hands resting on the window-sill within 
 the room, she saw her opportunity. Quick as 
 thought, with a light bound she gained the 
 window, sprang on the sill, and threw the 
 weight of her body on the sash, thereby effec- 
 tually pinning the hands to the window, and 
 making a prisoner of the audacious Jan. 
 
 Then she uttered a loud piercing cry. 
 
 "Was not that Letty's voice ? " cried Teddy, 
 starting up from his sleep.
 
 136 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " Fanny, wake up ! " shaking his wife ; "I'm 
 sure I heard Letty scream ! " 
 
 Mrs Koker stared sleepily at her husband. 
 
 " It's Letty ! " he cried, springing out of bed 
 and hastily donning some clothes. "Something 
 is wrong ! " 
 
 Again the cry rang out louder and more 
 piercing than before. 
 
 " Oh ! my girl, my Letty ! " screamed Mrs 
 Koker, " she is being murdered !" 
 
 To hurriedly unlock the doors, scamper 
 through the narrow alley leading to the street, 
 in which was the door of Letty 's room, was, to 
 the excited pair, the work of a few moments. 
 
 The sight that met their eyes almost para- 
 lysed them with astonishment. 
 
 For there, against the window, kicking, 
 struggling, and swearing, was the form of Jan 
 Vanderbosch. 
 
 Teddy went to him and discovered that the 
 young Boer, caught by the hands, was securely 
 imprisoned beneath the window. Then he 
 peered through the glass, and beheld the brave 
 Letty holding on to the sash for dear life. 
 
 In an instant he took in the whole situation, 
 and gave vent to a roar of laughter that roused 
 the neighbourhood. 
 
 " Look, Fanny ! " he gasped between the
 
 A CRY IN THE NIGHT 137 
 
 fits of merriment, " Letty's pinned him tight. 
 Serve him right. Ha ha ! Jan, you won't try 
 to climb a lady's window in a hurry again." 
 
 " Oh, you wretch ! " screamed Mrs Koker, 
 as she hit viciously at the Boer's legs, " you . 
 thought you'd get the best of my girl. Oh, you 
 nasty Boer ! " 
 
 " For God's sake, Teddy, " cried Jan, " tell 
 Letty to get off the sash ; she is cutting my 
 hands off." 
 
 " Get down, Letty dear," called Teddy, " I'll 
 take care of you now." 
 
 At his words the poor, brave girl fell in a 
 heap on the floor beside the window ; and the 
 young Boer drew away his hands with a curse 
 of relief. 
 
 Teddy climbed through the window, lifted 
 the fainting girl to the bed, and then unlocked 
 the door, admitting Mrs Koker. 
 
 Meanwhile Jan Vanderbosch lingered outside, 
 although the sound of the screams and loud 
 voices had attracted a small crowd of neigh- 
 bours, while a head thrust here and there from 
 an open window demanded the cause of the 
 disturbance. 
 
 " I've been a duffer and a blackguard, 
 Teddy," said Jan, humbly enough, as he caught 
 his arm.
 
 138 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " Don't, for God's sake, give me away. I'll 
 send you that I.O.U. to-morrow, and the 
 bracelet for the missus." 
 
 "All right, Jan," answered Teddy, "I might 
 make an example of you, but I won't do that, 
 although I'll let you pay for your fun ! " 
 
 True to his word, Jan Vanderbosch returned 
 the note, and Mrs Koker proudly shows to this 
 day the splendid bracelet gracing her wrist. 
 When people ask Jan to drop into Mrs Koker's 
 for a drink he is always in a hurry, or suddenly 
 espies a friend in the distance whom it is abso- 
 lutely necessary for him to see. 
 
 And so ended that night's troubles.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 ONE MORE UNFORTUNATE 
 
 THE drought had held the land for many 
 weeks ; but that Monday morning there was 
 a general spirit of jubilation throughout the 
 Camp. The shower, which had passed over 
 the town during the night, had raised hopes 
 of many such visiting the drought - cursed 
 country. The shopkeepers brightened up won- 
 derfully at the prospect of a rainy season, 
 which would freshen the roads and give new 
 life to the veld. 
 
 Terrible stories had reached Johannesburg, 
 told with brutal vividness by the half-starved 
 drivers of the few transport waggons that 
 managed to survive the hardships of the road 
 from Kimberley, the Free State, and Natal. 
 
 " Not a drop of rain," they said, ''had fallen 
 for over a month. The veld was as dry and 
 hard as a chip. The poor bullocks died by 
 scores for lack of water and nutriment. 
 Nothing fattened, nothing thrived, save the
 
 140 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 huge, hideous aasvogels, who came in flocks 
 to feast on the poor beasts as they lay dying, 
 in the helpless agonies of starvation on the 
 veld, or dropped on the dusty roads." 
 
 " Them domed assvogels got so fat they 
 couldn't fly," said a brawny, scrubby Boer, as 
 he stolidly puffed at his pipe. 
 
 "Yah!" answered another; "how I wished 
 to the Almighty that I could have inspanned 
 the devils to my waggon ! " 
 
 Which grim humour elicited a grunt from his 
 companions, and leers of delight from the half- 
 naked Kafir boys crouched on their haunches 
 in front of the vorelouper of the span of bullocks 
 that had survived to drag their weary load into 
 camp. 
 
 The boys rolled their great eyes in silent 
 mirth, while they playfully whacked the flabby 
 sides and dribbling jaws of their charges with 
 the knotted ends of the rope with which they 
 guided the steps of ,the sick and tired animals. 
 
 A handful of mealies a day sufficed to keep 
 life and soul in their poor little black bodies ; 
 right merrily they lived at that, basking in the 
 sunshine or gaily trudging ahead of their 
 charges ; the secret of contentment seemed to 
 be born in them. 
 
 It was as much a part of their savage nature
 
 ONE MORE UNFORTUNATE 141 
 
 as the dark colour of their dusky hides or the 
 kink of their woolly scalps. And so they 
 kicked their shining heels together as they 
 lay on their bellies in the dry red dust of the 
 great market square, silently nodding their 
 little heads in approval of the coarse wit of 
 the Baas. 
 
 There were many anxious, troubled faces 
 among the knots of men gathered here and 
 there around the outspanned bullocks in the 
 market square that morning ; supplies of food 
 seemed to grow less and less. 
 
 "Why don't the Volksraad do something 
 for us ? " was the general query. Even the 
 itinerant Mahometan merchants looked hungry 
 and drooping as they sat behind their piles 
 of gay - coloured Kafir blankets and other 
 attractive commodities. 
 
 But no buyers came. The Kafirs bid no 
 more ; they felt grateful for something with 
 which to fill their stomachs in lieu of the silver 
 which should have filled their grimy hands. 
 
 " It is going to be worse than ever," croaked 
 an old Boer as he shook the ashes from his 
 pipe, and gazed into the deep blue of the 
 cloudless sky with his bleared, bloodshot eyes. 
 
 " Yah ! " responded a gaunt carrier ; " that 
 spurt of rain last night was no good. It'll
 
 142 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 be another domed month before rain 
 falls." 
 
 He jingled the gold coins in his great pocket 
 with a grim smile, as he thought of the enor- 
 mous profits his bag of mealies had brought 
 him. 
 
 Presently a wan, unkempt woman, accom- 
 panied by a little half-breed boy, drew near 
 the waggon of the big Boer. 
 
 She approached the man timorously. 
 
 " I want " she began. 
 
 "What you can't buy," said the Boer with a 
 rude laugh. 
 
 " Take yourself off," croaked the blear-eyed 
 old man. 
 
 " I've got money to buy," she said, with an 
 effort at dignity. 
 
 "How much ? " growled the Boer. 
 
 The woman disclosed a handful of silver 
 coin. 
 
 "Yah, yah!" he roared, "is that all? I 
 don't sell anything for silver ; I want gold, old 
 vrouw, gold be off." 
 
 " For pity's sake 
 
 " Be off," he roared again, giving the un- 
 fortunate woman a push. 
 
 " Go, drink yourself to death ; it's the best 
 thing you can do. You'll get all you want over
 
 ONE MORE UNFORTUNATE 143 
 
 there," pointing to a bar in the corner of the 
 square, "you ugly, wrinkled old vrouw. If you 
 were nice and young and fat, I'd give you some 
 for nothing." 
 
 The poor creature slunk away, dragging her 
 half-starved child after her. 
 
 There was no refuge for such as she, ugly 
 and thin, her face seared with the marks of a 
 horrid disease ; clutching the tiny fingers of 
 her boy, she turned her steps towards the bar. 
 
 The words of the Boer rang in her ears. 
 
 " Drink yourself to death ! " 
 
 She could do that, she thought, and closed 
 her fingers convulsively over the few silver 
 coins in her hand ; they would buy forgetfulness, 
 and make her nice and warm. 
 
 " Baby," she whispered softly to the child as 
 she stopped in front of the bar in the corner, 
 "here, take this," putting some silver bits in his 
 little hand. " Go in there, and say to the lady 
 you want a small bottle of gin. Mind you 
 speak nice now ! " The child obeyed with an 
 alacrity which told plainly of many such 
 errands. 
 
 Presently he toddled back, his pinched little 
 face aglow with smiles as he held a big, stale 
 sandwich in one hand and a bottle in the 
 other.
 
 144 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " Did the lady give you that ? Bless her ! " 
 exclaimed his mother, as she uncorked the 
 bottle and put it to her lips. 
 
 The little fellow nodded, and gleefully 
 crammed the food into his mouth. 
 
 The woman drank again and again. Pre- 
 sently she thrust the empty bottle in the child's 
 hand, together with the remainder of the coin. 
 
 " Go, that's a lovey," she said huskily, "and 
 buy mummy some more gin." 
 
 The child toddled away, and again returned 
 with another sandwich and the replenished 
 bottle. 
 
 The unfortunate creature felt the fiery poison 
 of the liquor stealing through her veins and 
 mounting to her brain. A last impulse of 
 decency prompted her to hide herself. Drag- 
 ging the child with her, she staggered into a 
 recess between two projecting stoops, and sank 
 helplessly on the ground. In a few moments 
 she was unconscious. 
 
 Meanwhile the child devoured the sandwich, 
 notwithstanding the heavy dose of mustard with 
 which it was seasoned. But the mustard made 
 his little throat burn ; and, taking the bottle 
 from the unresisting hand of his mother, he 
 grasped it between his tiny fingers, and raised 
 it to his mouth.
 
 ONE MORE UNFORTUNATE 145 
 
 He was about to drain the few drops of fiery 
 liquor remaining, tip-tilting the bottle on his 
 lips in imitation of the gesture he had often 
 seen his mother perform, when a hand gently 
 drew the bottle away. The cry of disappoint- 
 ment died on the child's lips as he looked up 
 at the tall figure before him. 
 
 A woman, with kind, gracious face, looked 
 down upon him with pitying eyes. 
 
 " Poor child," she said softly to the servant 
 beside her ; " how did they get here ? Take 
 the little fellow to your rooms, Jacobs ; give him 
 some hot milk, and send someone to look after 
 this unfortunate creature ; I fear she is ill." 
 
 Jacobs lifted the boy in his arms and carried 
 him away. 
 
 For some time Ariadne stood there looking 
 up and down the roadway. No one was in 
 sight, Rissik Street being a sort of narrow lane, 
 not yet built up, save for the two little shanties 
 between whose stoops the drunken creature had 
 crept. 
 
 A neat Cape cart, with well-groomed horses, 
 stood motionless in the middle of the road. 
 The Kafir driver waited patiently. Presently 
 Ariadne looked at the watch on the silver 
 chatelaine at her side. 
 
 "It is dreadful to leave the poor wretch
 
 146 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 lying here," she said, partly to her driver, partly 
 to herself, " but I must be going soon." 
 
 The driver respectfully nodded his head, but 
 said nothing. 
 
 At that moment Jacobs came round the 
 corner ; a policeman accompanied him, followed 
 by some Kafirs carrying a rude litter. The 
 policeman saluted the fair woman with great 
 deference. 
 
 " You can drive on now, missis," he said. 
 " Thank you for sending for me." 
 
 " Don't mention it," she said. " Tell me, is 
 the poor creature ill or drunk ? " 
 
 The Kafirs raised the heap of rags, and 
 placed it on the litter. One of them gave a 
 grunt of surprise as the unfortunate's face was 
 revealed. 
 
 " What is it ? " said the policeman. 
 
 " This is old Polly, Canary Dick's vrouw," 
 answered the Kafir. "He works at the 
 Jumpers. This morning old Polly came in to 
 buy mealies." 
 
 The policeman drew near, and examined the 
 bundle of rags. 
 
 Ariadne turned her head aside, her heart 
 beat quickly, while a lump seemed to rise in 
 her throat. 
 
 Presently the policeman said in a low voice
 
 ONE MORE UNFORTUNATE 147 
 
 " You had better go away, missis ; no one 
 can do the old creature any good now." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean she was starving, and that dose of 
 Cape-smoke has killed her." 
 
 " She is dead ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered the policeman, motioning 
 to the Kafirs to take away the litter and its 
 burden. 
 
 " Was she a European ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the policeman ; " there's many of 
 them brought to that out here through Cape- 
 smoke." 
 
 Ariadne opened her purse and gave the man 
 a couple of gold coins. 
 
 " Be sure and see that the poor wretch is 
 decently buried. I cannot bear to think of a 
 white woman wrapped only in an old Kafir 
 blanket, and thrust into a ditch to rot ! " 
 
 " I promise you I'll see that she is properly 
 buried," said the policeman, deeply touched. 
 " Bless your kind heart, missis. ' 
 
 Doffing his helmet, he stood bareheaded, 
 while Ariadne mounted the cart and drove 
 off. 
 
 " Oh, the horror of it, the horror of it ! " she 
 thought, as the cart sped over the road in a 
 whirl of dust.
 
 148 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " To what terrible end is this strange city 
 tending? one half starving while the other 
 half feasts. 
 
 "No water to drink, nothing but champagne 
 for the rich and Cape-smoke for the poor. 
 How will it end ? Shall it be, as Hector said 
 last night, the drought will ruin every one if 
 it continues another few months ? The mines 
 will be utterly useless not a stamp or drill at 
 work for lack of water. 
 
 "How dreadful is the outlook, God alone 
 knows. 
 
 "If the rain, the sweet, soft, blessed rain, 
 would only come, and wash away all these 
 horrors. 
 
 " Oh, England ! England ! if you but knew 
 how dearly bought is the gold you send 
 your sons to seek in this far-away land ! 
 Through what scenes of misery, crime, and 
 debauchery it finds its way into your proud 
 coffers ! 
 
 "If you but knew ! If you but knew ! " 
 
 Ariadne clasped her gloved hands nervously 
 together, while big tears ran down her cheeks. 
 
 "What can I do?" she murmured. "My 
 poor pen is too feeble to work the good it is in 
 my heart to do. 
 
 "I'm only a woman, a weak, weak woman.
 
 ONE MORE UNFORTUNATE 149 
 
 Were I a man, I would raise a cry that would 
 reach from one end of the Transvaal to the 
 other. I would send that cry of appeal to 
 England. I would fight the good cause night 
 and day, until I had laid the first rail of the 
 road that would lift the poor golden city for 
 ever out of this helpless state. She would be 
 no longer Boer-ridden, the prey of drought, 
 famine, and fever. Oh, to be a man ! a man ! 
 to work, write, talk, until I had prevailed on 
 that slow-going Volksraad and old Oom Paul 
 to give Johannesburg a railway to the Cape." 
 
 " Drive to the hotel first, for a moment," 
 she said, as the cart turned into Loveday 
 Street.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE " ARGUS " HOUSE-WARMING 
 
 ARIADNE looked over the gilt and satin menu 
 she held in her hand. 
 
 " You arrived so late," said the chairman, at 
 whose right she was seated, " I began to fear 
 you were not coming at all." 
 
 " I am sorry," she said in a low voice, " but 
 something very sad detained me." 
 
 " Don't think of it now," he whispered. " I 
 want you to be very bright, and reflect credit 
 on the staff." 
 
 Ariadne smiled, while a faint rosy tinge crept 
 over her face. " I feel dreadfully nervous," she 
 whispered back, " amid all these men." 
 
 " Nonsense," answered the chairman. " Now, 
 what are you going to have ? we have already 
 reached the fifth course." 
 
 " Is it possible," she said, scanning the menu, 
 " that you really have all that is written here ? " 
 
 " Yes, all," he answered. " It does honour 
 to the occasion, does it not ? "
 
 THE "ARGUS" HOUSE-WARMING 151 
 
 " Decidedly it does," she replied, as she read 
 the long array of delicacies. 
 
 * " Hors d'CEuvres Assorti." 
 " Mayonnaise of Salmon." 
 " Venison Pie. Galantine of Fowl." 
 " Fois gras truffee en Bellivue." 
 " Ox-tongue en Aspic." 
 " Fillet of Beef Pique"." 
 "Roast Chicken, York Ham." 
 "Turkey au Perigorde." 
 "Salade de Saison." 
 
 Pine-apple Jelly. 
 Bavarois a la National. 
 Punch a la Parisienne. 
 Patiserie Assorti. 
 
 Strawberries and Cream. 
 
 WINES. 
 Amontillado. Niersteiner. 
 
 St Julien. Beaune. 
 
 Giesler (ist qual.) Irroy. 
 
 Old Crusted Port. 
 
 Liqueurs. 
 
 "How was it possible to make out this 
 wonderful menu" she asked, " in these dreadful 
 times, with famine staring us in the face ? " 
 
 * This menu represents dishes composed entirely of 
 tinned edibles the only food supply at that time in 
 Johannesburg.
 
 152 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " It doesn't look like famine," whispered the 
 chairman, with a chuckle. " Those strawberries 
 are from Pretoria, and Zocallo did the rest." 
 
 " What a clever man you are," she said, with 
 a glance of admiration at the powerful face 
 bending towards her, " to curb that bear of an 
 Italian and trim his claws, so to speak ; I am 
 sure he would never have taken the trouble to 
 serve such a banquet for anyone but you, not 
 even for Om Paul himself." 
 
 " Thank you," he whispered, " but a cleverer 
 woman than I am a man has captured me ; and 
 she is as brave as she is clever to face this lot 
 of men and Boers." 
 
 "I expect a nip," answered Ariadne coolly, 
 while looking into the bottom of the glass with 
 which she toyed. 
 
 " If anyone dares to nip, I'll 
 
 " I am here as one of you, you know," she 
 went on, naively. " If there was but one single 
 Englishman present, I should feel safe; he would 
 not suffer me to be insulted." 
 
 " Never," the chairman hastened to answer. 
 
 "You must tell me who some of these men 
 are, and anything of interest about them." 
 
 " Well," answered the chairman, complacently 
 sipping his champagne, " we have a hundred 
 guests, all representative men of the Rand,
 
 THE "ARGUS" HOUSE-WARMING 153 
 
 with here and there a prominent Cape man. 
 The gentleman next to you is an ex-Premier 
 and member of the Assembly. Allow me to 
 introduce him." 
 
 The ex-Premier returned Ariadne's smile with 
 a dignified bow, while she shot from under her 
 golden lashes a keen glance of scrutiny at the 
 pale intellectual face, framed in iron-grey hair 
 and well-trimmed beard. The firm-cut mouth 
 and deep-set, thoughtful eyes impressed her 
 pleasantly, but the slow, quiet tones of his 
 voice proclaimed the man of determination and 
 patience. 
 
 " If he makes up his mind to do a thing," 
 she thought, " he will wait a hundred years, if 
 need be, to accomplish it." 
 
 " I like him," she whispered to the chairman, 
 after exchanging a few seasonable remarks with 
 the ex- Premier; "his voice rings true. An honest 
 man has always a sympathetic tone. I have never 
 found it to fail that is, as far as my experience 
 goes. Now, I should say he was a man who 
 stopped at nothing, when once he believed 
 himself in the right, and would cling to it like 
 grim death." 
 
 " You may rely on what you call experience, 
 which is really instinct, and with woman it takes 
 the place of experience in man. You have
 
 154 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 summed up in a phrase the whole policy and 
 character of our neighbour : being an Afri- 
 cander, he has the confidence of the inner circle 
 of the colony, is in touch with the vital questions 
 of the hour, and knows the pulse of S.A. ; and 
 it would have been well had he been reap- 
 pointed to the premiership instead of his suc- 
 cessor, a man worthy in an official sense, but 
 not a vital one. How, in God's name, can a 
 man who has not lived among us in fact, been 
 born among us who is a creature of Downing 
 Street, understand the problems of South 
 African politics ? It would be just as reason- 
 able to appoint a Thames bargeman to the 
 captaincy of a Union liner. What could he 
 know of the currents, sub-currents and coast 
 dangers of the southern seas ? Every exotic 
 Premier is, and will be, a failure. There are 
 still greater dangers ahead, unless a man of 
 thorough Afrikander build does not soon take 
 the helm. But there, I am drifting into high 
 politics, and, although I know you will write 
 brilliantly and well, I cannot allow you to touch 
 high politics." 
 
 " And why not ? " interrupted Ariadne ; 
 " why should you relegate me to the retailing 
 of society gossip, the frothy chronicles of the 
 small beer of fashion, when I possess the in-
 
 THE " ARGUS" HOUSE-WARMING 155 
 
 stinct, as you have just said, which led me 
 straight to the mark in summing up our 
 neighbour ? " 
 
 " Because you are a charming, a deucedly 
 charming woman," answered the chairman, 
 filling Ariadne's glass from the bottle of 
 Giesler beside him ; " and we value women 
 here too much to let them trouble their pretty 
 heads with dry problems on political and official 
 subjects. We look to you for restful diversion 
 and sweet forgetfulness from the onerous duties 
 of public life." 
 
 " But will you not admit that I, with my 
 wide and profound experience as a woman of 
 the world, a traveller and observer of three con- 
 tinents of the civilised globe, am not more 
 capable, more fitted to take up the pen in 
 political work than your sub -editor, who has 
 never seen a London fog, an American blizzard, 
 who knows nothing beyond the endless blue of 
 an African sky ? " 
 
 " There, there," interrupted the chairman in 
 a low voice, as he smiled, well pleased with the 
 enthusiasm glowing in her eyes and lending a 
 fascinating beauty to her face, " don't allow 
 your pretty enthusiasm to carry you away. I 
 may admit the truth of all you say, but the time 
 is not ripe for such woman-work in Africa.
 
 156 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 Remember, we have not reached the epoch of 
 Primrose Dames, yet." 
 
 " Ah ! now you misunderstand me," 
 answered Ariadne, a little archly. " I don't 
 aspire to leading African women so high as 
 that. But I would be glad to open your eyes 
 to the value of what you call instinctive power 
 in woman. I would make women the coun- 
 sellors and advisers of men in the arena of state 
 government, as they are in domestic affairs. 
 To whom does a man go more readily and 
 trustfully for advice and counsel, when the 
 world seems to have failed him, than to his 
 wife ? Does he not lay all the bearings of the 
 case before her ? not that he believes in her 
 wisdom, for wisdom is beg'otten of experience, 
 but he believes in the "old woman's" instinct, 
 don't you see ! " 
 
 The chairman nodded approvingly ; he highly 
 enjoyed, without yielding to them, the prettily- 
 worded arguments of Ariadne. 
 
 " Clever, very clever," he thought. "She is 
 angling for the sub-editorship. By Jove! I'd 
 give it to her if only for the sake of that sweet 
 voice and winning smile. But there would be 
 the devil to pay ; they don't appreciate woman 
 in that sense here yet." 
 
 Ariadne saw the wavering twinkle in the
 
 THE "ARGUS" HOUSE-WARMING 157 
 
 dark eyes, and hastened to hit harder on the 
 head of the nail. 
 
 " To be brief," she resumed, " the time has 
 come when women must lift some of the burden 
 from men's shoulders and bear it with them. 
 When I think of the Herculean load that thou- 
 sands, nay, millions of men carry daily, the 
 burden of a household of three, four, or a dozen 
 of souls to support, I wonder that more men 
 don't go mad under the strain. All women 
 cannot be wives and mothers, but they can be 
 co-workers, counsellors, and equals. The time 
 is come when women shall be allowed to be 
 nobly self-supporting, when an over-strained 
 husband and hard-worked brother are no 
 longer expected to bear the pressure alone. 
 'We are accepted in America, we are gaining 
 in England and France, and here in Africa we 
 hope to win it. I am sitting here among a lot 
 of hostile men. Oh, don't shake your head ! " 
 she said softly, with a smile ; " nearly every 
 man is wondering at my ' cheek ' ; but they 
 don't know that I am mortifying my pride for 
 a principle, trampling under foot my womanly 
 reserve, as they would call it, by being the only 
 lady present at this banquet. I am the wee 
 part of the wedge of woman influence in the 
 Rand. I shall be vilified and stormed at by
 
 158 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 the coarse element ; but I don't care ; I am 
 willing to bear anything to become a prece- 
 dent in such a good cause." 
 
 " By the Almighty," muttered the chairman, 
 " I believe she will wheedle me into giving her 
 the sub-editorship after all ! " 
 
 " Just one word more," she said, as the straw- 
 berries appeared, " I feel that awful times are 
 coming for the whole country, unless Afrikanders 
 awake to the sense of the dangers of alien leader- 
 ship. I heard a man speak in the Cape ; it was 
 in the Council Chamber. He is the coming 
 man for South Africa." 
 
 " Who was he ? " queried the chairman, with 
 an amused smile. 
 
 "Cecil Rhodes," she answered. 
 
 The chairman looked steadily at Ariadne for 
 a moment, then he said quietly, "You shall have 
 the sub-editorship." 
 
 Ariadne's eyes sparkled mistily. She said 
 nothing further ; her point had been gained by 
 a stroke of instinctive policy. Surprised at the 
 sudden decision of the chairman, she refrained 
 from following up and perhaps weakening the 
 advantage she had gained, by further talk on 
 the subject. Like a wise woman, she prudently 
 held her tongue.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 EVERY MAN HAS A RIGHT TO SPEAK HIS MIND 
 
 AND now the real business of this journalistic 
 banquet began. 
 
 The chairman arose and proposed the health 
 of the " President," which was drank amid 
 cheers that deepened to roars of applause as 
 " The Queen " was toasted. No more loyal 
 hip-hip-hurrahs could have resounded at a Lord 
 Mayor's banquet, than those which rolled forth 
 lustily from the throats of her sons and subjects 
 gathered round that festive board in the heart 
 of the Transvaal, and whose Boer leaders 
 joined in with a heartiness that shook the 
 rafters of the fine banqueting-hall, till the very 
 flags and gay-coloured buntings trembled like 
 boughs shaken beneath a summer storm. 
 
 Glasses clinked, and wine bubbled afresh, 
 while tears welled up to Ariadne's eyes, touched 
 to the quick by the electric current of the noble 
 enthusiasm which one woman's name, the em- 
 blem of purity, goodness, godliness, and the
 
 160 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 ruler of the greatest empire of the world, had 
 called forth. 
 
 " It is the woman, after all, that they revere," 
 thought Ariadne, as she sat silent amid the 
 hubbub, quite hidden by the men standing 
 about her. " Thank God ! " she murmured, in 
 a sudden burst of thankfulness, " that I am a 
 woman, and that British blood flows in my 
 veins. It is that which makes my heart strong 
 and true." 
 
 There are moments in our lives when the 
 veneer of conventionality and custom melts 
 beneath the fire of enthusiasm like snow before 
 the noonday blaze. Wine is a generous in- 
 fluence, and when combined with the magic 
 of good-fellowship, it is like unto oil cast on 
 troubled waters : whatever lies beneath the sur- 
 face blends harmoniously. So the pleasant 
 hospitality warmed alike the heart of Boer 
 and Britisher, and for the nonce they were in 
 sympathetic union. 
 
 The Landdrost, the Assistant Landdrost, and 
 the other Boer officials quite entered into the 
 spirit of patriotism of their host ; and, as they 
 drank of the mellow Giesler, they seconded 
 with downright goodwill the loyal cheers of 
 their companions. 
 
 Was it not right and fitting that these men
 
 EVERY MAN HAS A RIGHT 161 
 
 should overflow with enthusiasm at the name of 
 their great Queen ? And the sturdy Boers felt 
 that they were upholding a just and laudable 
 principle in assisting their friends by shouting 
 themselves hoarse; for is not patriotism a senti- 
 ment which commands the respect of every one 
 the world over ? 
 
 When all had quietened down, the ex- Premier, 
 at the invitation of the chairman, arose and pro- 
 posed the health of the Johannesburg officials. 
 In a neat and smart speech he tickled the ribs 
 of the special Landdrost metaphorically ; at 
 which there arose cries of 
 
 " Good old captain ! " 
 
 interrupted by ringing cheers, after which 
 the ex-Premier proceeded to compliment the 
 mining commissioner, and wound up with a 
 cleverly - worded tribute to the ability and 
 courtesy with which they performed their official 
 duties, their strict integrity and uprightness. 
 Having said this, he concluded by saying, " He 
 could say no more of any official in any part of 
 the world." 
 
 Again the mellow Giesler flowed, while a 
 copious health was drunk to the reigning powers 
 of the Rand. 
 
 Then the Landdrost arose, his kindly, hand- 
 .some features flushed with pleasure as he
 
 1 62 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 delivered himself of a brief speech in quaint 
 musical English. 
 
 " The poor official of Johannesburg," he said, 
 while nervously twirling his wine-glass, " had 
 so much to do to respond to the kind toasts 
 that, if it was not such a pleasure to be present 
 in their midst, these toasts would be very 
 difficult to answer, because he could only repeat 
 the same words over again. He would say, 
 however, that, without their kind assistance, 
 they would never have won their confidence, 
 and if they gave their confidence and assist- 
 ance in the future as in the past, all would 
 go right." 
 
 When the cheers and libations following the 
 Landdrost's speech had subsided, the Mining 
 Commissioner was called upon to respond. 
 
 When he arose, he disclosed a pale, thought- 
 ful face, and a slight, delicate physique ; but 
 the eyes under the light lashes were deep and 
 keen, proclaiming intellectual strength ; and in 
 a voice quiet and self-composed in the extreme, 
 he responded 
 
 " In the discharge of his duties he had to 
 contend with many difficulties ; but, through 
 the assistance of the public, he was able to 
 perform his duties in the most satisfactory 
 manner ; and he was very glad to see that
 
 EVERY MAN HAS A RIGHT 163 
 
 they had appreciated hrs services. He was 
 sure that as long as they had such a public 
 as they had, he might say, as one of the first 
 public officials in the South Africa Republic, 
 they might always, with p^lblic kind assistance 
 and co-operation, be able to do their duty. 
 For the second time he thanked them for their 
 kind feelings." 
 
 The Mining Commissioner resumed his seat 
 after delivering this modest and rather non- 
 committal speech, amid cheers and cries of 
 "hear, hear." 
 
 He was followed by the Assistant Landdrost, 
 an unassuming type of the Boer, who neverthe- 
 less was listened to with profound attention as 
 he briefly reiterated the thanks of his brother 
 official. The short, dark, bronzed little man 
 sat down amid a tempest of clinking glasses 
 and cheers. 
 
 "He is decidedly dull," said Ariadne to the 
 chairman, "but popular nevertheless." 
 
 "He is a very good fellow indeed," answered 
 the chairman. " You may put his dulness 
 down to the fact of his speaking English. If 
 he responded in his beloved Dutch, we would 
 
 have had a long and eloquent one, depend 
 
 A. 
 on it. 
 
 " How polite they are for Boers ! " she
 
 164 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 whispered. " Each of them acknowledged my 
 presence with a courteous bow as they drank 
 the toast I have always been under the 
 impression that Boers were so rude to women." 
 "It is a mistake," said the chairman, " to 
 suppose that Boers are discourteous to ladies. 
 Women have nothing to complain of as far as the 
 Boers are concerned in the Transvaal. It is the 
 miserable scum of Australian and English ne'er 
 do-wells that invade the Rand, whose cowardly 
 smut -begrimed consciences hold no reverence 
 for womankind. There is another class of men 
 that we may justly term the freebooters of the 
 press. A woman's good name is to them as 
 the red rag to the bull. They delight in 
 plunging at her with the horns of ridicule 
 and slander. Why, there is even now on 
 the list of applicants for a post in my paper, 
 one man, whose shameless life drove him from 
 Australia, where he had flourished for awhile, 
 the root and stem of a capital paper ; but 
 drink, that curse of many a gifted journalist, 
 ruined him ; and now he has turned up at the 
 Rand. He has the editorship of a morning 
 paper at present, but it is a poverty-stricken 
 rag, run on the profits made by the proprietor's 
 wife, who keeps a flourishing bar. No one 
 buys the paper ; and the staff, of one member
 
 EVERY MAN HAS A RIGHT 165 
 
 only, is raiding the town for tit-bits of scandal 
 and other unsavoury material. There is good 
 material in this applicant, but I fear I cannot 
 avail myself of it. I might make a man of 
 him after all ; but only this morning I learned 
 that he had joined forces with the owner and 
 editor of a weekly whose scurrilous illustrations 
 anent the Government and private individuals 
 will eventually pull him up, for high treason, at 
 all events." 
 
 " You quite frighten me," said Ariadne with 
 a little shiver. "Is it possible that the pen 
 can be so debased ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is, alas ! However, you must not 
 allow these bogie-men of the press to frighten 
 you ; they will never assail you." 
 
 " Pray God they may not. I do nothing to 
 merit it. My pen is a virtual necessity to me 
 at present." 
 
 " The first thing they will say is that I am in 
 love with you." 
 
 " Impossible ! " ejaculated Ariadne. 
 
 " And that is the reason I have made you 
 sub-editor." 
 
 " Oh ! I would rather never write a line than 
 such a thing should be insinuated." 
 
 o 
 
 " But they will all the same, and you must 
 be prepared. Jealousy will drive those ink- 
 
 M
 
 1 66 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 slinging scalawags who hate me to any abuse ; 
 but don't you mind ; just follow the even tenor 
 of your way and give such good work that I 
 shall be proud of my sub-editor." 
 
 " I'll/- do my best," said Ariadne, firmly ; 
 but a tear fell into and mingled with the 
 golden wine in her glass, as she put it to 
 her lips in acknowledgment of the toast 
 being drunk. 
 
 A heavy-set man of medium height, broad- 
 shouldered and erect, stood up smiling in 
 response to the toast. His neatly -trimmed 
 beard was slightly sprinkled with grey. The 
 fair skin was just touched with that bronzed 
 tinge which always marks the complexion of 
 the Englishman of African breed. 
 
 " Lady and gentlemen," he began, " I am 
 sorry that I cannot say ladies." 
 
 Ariadne's face flushed crimson at the implied 
 insult, while the Boers shot amused glances 
 at the speaker, and one and all looked sym- 
 pathisingly towards the graceful figure at the 
 head of the table. 
 
 "He does not understand," whispered the 
 chairman to Ariadne. 
 
 " Nip number one," she whispered back, 
 drawing in her breath and placing the glass 
 down as she settled herself in her chair, with
 
 EVERY MAN HAS A RIGHT 167 
 
 compressed lips and burning cheeks, waiting 
 for what was to follow. 
 
 But nothing further followed in that strain. 
 
 The speaker realised that he had committed a 
 
 faux-pas ; and taking a gulp of champagne, he 
 
 launched into a panegyric of the occasion, the 
 
 chairman, and the new journal. 
 
 Gradually Ariadne forgot the unpleasant 
 introduction of the speech as she listened to 
 the eloquent words of the sturdy member from 
 the Cape. Even the Boers forgot their 
 admiration for the violet-eyed woman in their 
 midst, and hearkened spell-bound to his ringing 
 tones. 
 
 Ariadne felt that she could forgive him any- 
 thing, even his coarse snub, as she heard him 
 deliver sentiments which her quick instinctive 
 power told her were just the view she would 
 have presented herself in the interests of the 
 Rand, had she been offered the courtesy of 
 speech. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the Cape Assembly 
 member, "there is room and requirement for 
 able and fearless newspapers in this community. 
 I do not think they need head the first column, 
 'War or Peace, or Reform on Revolution.' As 
 far as I can see, no one wishes to disturb 
 republican institutions, qua such in this
 
 1 68 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 country ; and if I were a resident here, I 
 would not only accept the form of your in- 
 stitution, but I should do what is in my power 
 to uphold the form. 
 
 "It is, however, one thing to accept the form 
 and another to acquiesce in administrative acts, 
 more especially in their effect on a peculiar and 
 sensitive industry. Your industry requires not 
 only to have fair -play, but, to become what 
 Nature in her providence has given, requires to 
 be encouraged, fostered, almost pampered. 
 
 "In other States ; in other Republics, as soon 
 as a rich mineral field has been discovered, the 
 Government come to the aid of the industry. 
 
 " Telegraphs are made, railways are con- 
 structed, and local taxation is kept at a mini- 
 mum. That is not the case here" 
 
 The speaker looked almost defiantly at the 
 Boer officials. The Landdrost's eyes were 
 riveted on his glass, while his companions 
 preserved a stolid placidity. Had a pin been 
 dropped on the banqueting-table it would have 
 echoed like a crash, so absolute was the breath- 
 less silence ; every one felt it was critical ground 
 on which the speaker had stepped. The chair- 
 man moved not, but his twinkling black eyes 
 flashed a look of encouragement at the Cape 
 member, who went on
 
 EVERY MAN HAS A RIGHT 169 
 
 " Your taxation is the heaviest in the world, 
 and you have no railways!" 
 
 Again the speaker paused ; but not a pulse 
 stirred, not a sound betrayed that he had 
 touched the most vital part of the cancer that 
 was eating into the very life of the Transvaal. 
 The silence goaded him, and he continued with 
 burning words that fell like blazing coals on the 
 hearts around him 
 
 "In my opinion it is the first duty of the true 
 patriot of the South African Republic to see 
 that in these respects you get redress without 
 delay. 
 
 " And why ? 
 
 "All know the position this State was in 
 before the discovery of the gold. The treasury 
 was empty. The people were poor and dis- 
 contented through no fault of theirs. The 
 place the Repiiblic then occupied in the con- 
 geries of South African States was not even 
 second-rate. 
 
 " To-day, how different ! The difference was 
 caused by the discovery of precious metals, and 
 the influx of a population which knew how to 
 turn to value the great discovery. But, gentle- 
 men, notwithstanding the richness of your fields, 
 I doubt if you can avoid serious difficulties and 
 troubles in which the Government of the State
 
 170 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 will share, unless you secure a reduction of 
 taxation, and the entrance of a railway into 
 Johannesburg." 
 
 A burst of prolonged and vigorous cheers 
 followed the speaker's words. The crust of 
 astonishment had been broken ; and men in- 
 tensely interested in the vital concerns on which 
 the speaker had so fearlessly spoken, woke up to 
 the fact that the function at which they assisted 
 was not one of mere social gratification. 
 
 They realised that the ' Giesler and patt-de- 
 fois-gras bait meant more than a mere tickling 
 of their palates, and they hesitated not to lend 
 themselves to the accomplishment of his hos- 
 pitable snare, as they commented one to the 
 other on the justice and truth of the speaker's 
 words, that Johannesburg should have a rail- 
 way. It was the only way out of the difficulties 
 that were accumulating around them. 
 
 " In looking over the revenue returns of this 
 country," continued the Cape member boldly, 
 as he noted the effect of his previous words, 
 "published in the Gazette just now, I find that 
 practically the whole revenue comes from the 
 different gold-fields. I find also that almost an 
 amount equal in taxation in the output of gold 
 is paid ; and I find further that the revenue is 
 not spent on reproductive works or local wants
 
 EVERY MAN HAS A RIGHT 171 
 
 but is deposited in the Standard Bank. Besides 
 this heavy direct taxation, you are heavily taxed 
 on all supplies, machinery, and necessaries that 
 come from the coast. 
 
 " Now, except perhaps to the man who is 
 content to make and sell bits of papers on 
 which the name of a gold company is printed, 
 it is clear that the industry cannot thrive with- 
 out the two great desiderata of which I have 
 spoken being granted ; if not, the time will 
 come, in my opinion, when the digger and the 
 claim-holder will be unable to pay the heavy 
 taxation which now weighs upon them : this 
 would be a calamity in the interests of this 
 community I wish to see avoided. 
 
 " All South Africa is concerned in your 
 industry, and in the well-being of this State. 
 We in the Colony don't grudge the Transvaal 
 the Delagoa railway ; we only regret its tor- 
 toise pace. Let it come with all speed, but 
 don't delay the Cape and Natal, who are ready 
 and anxious to come to your aid at once ; and 
 the Executive in Pretoria would be wise, having 
 only regard to the welfare of this State, if they 
 were to say to the Cape and Natal this day 
 
 "'Come with your railways as fast as you 
 can.' ' 
 
 A profound sensation followed the close of
 
 172 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 this daring speech. The Cape member knew 
 what he was about He sat down, secure in 
 the enjoyment of having said his say, and to 
 good effect. 
 
 "It will be many such that will come to teach 
 them ere then, ere they heed," thought Ariadne, 
 looking at the Boer leaders, as they quaffed 
 their Giesler as tranquilly as though the words 
 of the speaker had been chaff, instead of the 
 blunt facts hurled at their heads. 
 
 Then arose the chairman, who was received 
 with the cheers and tclat befitting the giver of 
 the feast. 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, smilingly, 
 holding a glass of foaming Giesler in hand, 
 " when I say ladies I am sure that you will 
 agree with me that the lady present amongst 
 us to-day is a host in herself; and I beg to 
 propose her health, as a member of the staff of 
 the Star you have so kindly honoured with 
 your presence on this occasion, and as the 
 pioneer woman -journalist of the South African 
 Republic." 
 
 A succession of roaring cheers followed the 
 toast of the chairman. 
 
 Ariadne had not the courage to respond by 
 a bow to the genial calls of the men around 
 her. She felt suddenly alone, intimidated by
 
 EVERY MAN HAS A RIGHT 173 
 
 the effusive demonstration, which was in reality 
 called forth as a sort of demonstrative protest 
 against the rudeness of the blunt but eloquent 
 Cape member. 
 
 She realised in that moment that it was not 
 altogether fitting that she should be alone there. 
 She longed for a woman's hand in hers ; but 
 where was the woman to be found, she thought, 
 who could have supported her in that hour? 
 Surely not from the bars or the shops. No, 
 no ! She was alone, she felt, and she must 
 bear it bravely alone, by shielding herself in 
 the mantle of modesty which every man present 
 would instinctively revere, so she sat silent, 
 while the toast went round. 
 
 "A plump and pretty woman," was the verdict 
 of the Boers. 
 
 "A deucedly clever one," said the English- 
 men to one another, as they swallowed draughts 
 of champagne served by the ready hand of the 
 watchful Zocallo. 
 
 After firing back a volley of compliments 
 and thanks at the Cape member who had so 
 loudly sounded his praises and pedigree, the 
 chairman went on to say many things interest- 
 ing to the company on the history of his paper. 
 
 " But a few words I should like to have the 
 opportunity of saying with reference to the Argus
 
 174 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 Company, for which this, in my judgment, is 
 a great day indeed ; for reasons of state of which 
 I shall not say anything to-day, as we did not 
 choose to afford any of our numerous friends the 
 opportunity of saying kind things about the 
 enterprise before it was actually ushered into 
 existence. That we were wise in so doing was 
 afterwards apparent ; because every one whose 
 leave had not been asked, predicted for us a 
 short life if not a merry one. These predictions 
 were falsified, because I was able to surround 
 myself with good men and true, who believed 
 that, human infirmities apart, I was not the 
 worst of chiefs for any man, who did his duty, 
 to work with and work under. 
 
 " We had a paper in Cape Town and Kim- 
 berley ; and it seemed to me that we should 
 have a larger place in the world if we had an 
 office of our own in London. And so to 
 London I went, and we set up our own standard 
 
 , k 
 
 in the heart of the City, in a great thoroughfare, 
 where our light cannot possibly be hid ; that 
 made me late in coming to Johannesburg, for 
 one thing at a time is my motto. Three years 
 ago I was in the Rand you know what it was 
 in those days. I went on to the Kaap, and 
 when Barberton collapsed, I was not the only 
 one who said
 
 EVERY MAN HAS A RIGHT 175 
 
 "'As Barberton has been, so also will be 
 J ohannesburg. ' 
 
 " Last year, in July, I came up again to spy 
 out the land. I was not tempted to stay. In 
 the early spring of this year I came for the 
 third time ; and I saw enough then to tempt an 
 angel out of heaven to come and settle in your 
 midst. Perhaps I am not a very good specimen 
 of an angel." 
 
 Laughter and chaffing cries of " hear, hear," 
 provoked a good-humoured smile from the 
 speaker as he continued 
 
 "And Cape Town is not exactly heaven, but 
 I resolved to come. I saw an opening, and I 
 met with such kind encouragement on air sides 
 and more especially from some of you who 
 are with us to-day that I could not refrain 
 from taking advantage of it ; and now I want 
 to take you into confidence. I have been 
 asked a good many times during the past few 
 weeks 
 
 "'Why don't you establish a morning 
 paper ? ' 
 
 " The reason can soon be told. I have been 
 guilty according to some who have the ad- 
 vantage of knowing infinitely more about me 
 than I know myself of every act forbidden in 
 the decalogue ; but I have never established,
 
 176 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 aided, or abetted in the establishment of any 
 newspaper in my life. I have contributed 
 something towards the death of five or six of 
 the species, and I take much credit to myself 
 for having rendered the State that service." 
 
 Shouts of laughter followed this sally, ex- 
 pressed with a world of comical concern by the 
 chairman ; in the midst of which a friend called 
 from the other end of the table 
 
 " Then why are you here ? " 
 
 " That is just what I am coming to," he 
 replied. 
 
 " John Bright, who was a shrewd man, said 
 the newspaper of the future was an evening 
 paper. I did not want to establish a newspaper 
 where there were far too many already ; and I 
 resolved, with the entire concurrence of those 
 who were acting with me, to acquire for the 
 company we had formed the only evening 
 newspaper existing in the Rand. ' Imitation is 
 the sincerest form of flattery,' but I must say 
 that I did not expect to be flattered to the 
 extent of seeing a second evening paper taking 
 the field before we were fairly at work, and still 
 less to witness a morning journal, which has 
 presumably found it impossible to ' reform,' 
 subject itself to the revolutionary powers of 
 coming out in the evening. There are far too
 
 EVERY MAN HAS A RIGHT 177 
 
 many newspapers in Johannesburg to be good 
 for the people who run them, or the people who 
 read, I put it to you if one good newspaper is 
 not worth half-a-dozen bad ones ? " 
 
 Loud cries of " hear, hear," accompanied 
 by spirited remarks on the part of the company, 
 enabled the chairman to partake of another 
 glass of Giesler, to refresh his throat, as he 
 continued 
 
 " Are you aware that there are eight publica- 
 tions in Johannesburg now, and that the place 
 is threatened not only with a ninth, but with a 
 tenth as well ? The other day we had a noble 
 distinguished visitor to this country, and when 
 he got home he wrote an article in the 'New 
 Review, in which he compared the newspapers 
 of South Africa this to their disadvantage, 
 of course with the newspaper of English, 
 American, and Australian towns. I do not call 
 in question the fact of our infirmity ; but I have 
 given you what I know to be the true explana- 
 tion and only answer of which the circum- 
 stances will admit if you want to have good 
 newspaper work and plenty of it, you will have 
 to pay for it. 
 
 " I am sure you will be surprised that here 
 in Johannesburg, where [the cost of production 
 is extremely high, the fever of competition has
 
 178 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 brought things to such a pass, that you can get 
 newspaper space by the square mile, at about 
 the price you would pay for the open veld. It 
 is no state secret to say that these buildings 
 of the Argus Company whose opening we 
 celebrate to-day, the lands they have been 
 erected upon, the plant and the stock we are 
 putting down here for everything is not yet 
 completed represent an outlay of nearly five 
 thousand pounds. According to South African 
 notions the figure may seem large ; but I may 
 tell you that a paper in Brisbane, where the 
 public are not quite so catholic in their affec- 
 tions as we are here, paid not long since twice 
 as much for a site alone. It has been uphill 
 work doing what we have done with bricks and 
 mortar, wood and iron, all around us ; but the 
 sales of our paper have more than quadrupled 
 since it was acquired by the Argus Com- 
 pany. I think we may be allowed to say that 
 we are not exactly a one-horse show, and these 
 fine buildings will be regarded as the outward 
 and visible sign, not only of our having come, 
 but of our having come, aided by your kind 
 encouragement and support, with the fixed 
 determination to stay." 
 
 The close of the banquet was ushered in by 
 a general jubilation of songs, witty toasts, and
 
 EVERY MAN HAS A RIGHT 179 
 
 copious libations ; after which the company, in 
 a body, under the leadership of the chairman, 
 proceeded to view the new premises of his very 
 progressive enterprising journal. 
 
 A glance at the commodious and elegantly- 
 fitted rooms of the managing director, secre- 
 tary, editor, and sub-editor, in close connection 
 with a roomy library and file-room, impressed 
 everyone with the fact that the fortunate staff 
 was housed to much better advantage than the 
 corps of many a first-class London journal. 
 
 " And now let us adjourn to the works/' said 
 the smiling chairman, as he led the way direct 
 from the editorial rooms across an ingeniously 
 constructed bridge connecting the main building 
 with the works in the rear. 
 
 Here the company were amused and in- 
 terested by inspecting the fine plant and watch- 
 ing the printing of the evening edition of the 
 paper, which contained an account of the details 
 of the lunch banquet. 
 
 " Thanks, I shall treasure this indeed," said 
 Ariadne, as the foreman presented her with the 
 first copy. 
 
 A facetious guest began an impromptu 
 speech, on which the company assailed him 
 with a volley of chaff. 
 
 " There is enough steam here without turn-
 
 180 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 ing on yours ! " cried a voice. Upon which the 
 company laughingly dispersed, and the installa- 
 tion of the Star, the first evening paper of 
 Johannesburg, in the Argus Buildings, was 
 happily concluded.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A SATURDAY NIGHT'S DEBAUCH 
 
 IT was Saturday evening. The hour of sun- 
 down, with its thousand weird shadows, crisp 
 chilly breezes, and pale ghost-like vapours, had 
 come. Along the line of the horizon a narrow 
 gleam of faint rosy-tinged light still hovered. 
 Above, the heavens hung like a dome of in- 
 visible sapphire, flecked here and there by 
 scarcely perceptible glistening forerunners of 
 the tide of stars that soon would flood with 
 glorified beauty the moonless night. The air 
 was filled with a deep calm, the calm of sus- 
 pended labour. No longer the thud of stamp 
 or boom of battery was heard. A week's out- 
 put had been dug and gleaned from the mine, 
 round which huge mounds of quartz could be 
 seen faintly outlined in the rising starlight. 
 It shone mistily on blackened shaft, the 
 huts of the native diggers, and reflected its 
 pearl-like radiance on the zinc-roofed cottages 
 of the mining officials. 
 
 *N
 
 i&2 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 The great reef, in whose bosom hundreds of 
 hands had burrowed through all the day for the 
 treasures of gold therein, was as calm as the 
 sleeping breast of a mother. 
 
 As the last halo of the sunset disappeared, 
 the swift-falling darkness revealed many a 
 cheery cottage-glow, interspersed with patches 
 of ruddy light marking the evening fires of the 
 Kafirs, where their sundown repast was in brisk 
 preparation. A very poor repast it was, in- 
 deed, at that particular time the great scarcity 
 of provisions affording little more than a pot of 
 mealies or a meagre supply of dried meat. 
 
 The majority of the Kafirs squatted con- 
 tentedly round the fires outside their huts and 
 ate heartily of the steaming mealies, to which 
 they helped themselves by the aid of long 
 wooden spoons, thrust into the iron pot sus- 
 pended over the blaze. A merry, chattering, 
 laughing crew, full of jest and quibble, perfectly 
 content in the assurance that money was plenti- 
 ful if mealies were not. The weekly Saturday 
 night's pay had been doled out to them. They 
 were at liberty to hide it away in old trouser 
 pocket, or hang it round their necks in the little 
 sheepskin bag, for the wife and little ones in the 
 far-away kraal. Many carried it to the nearest 
 canteen-keeper, perched like an aasvogel on
 
 A SATURDAY NIGHT'S DEBAUCH 183 
 
 the outskirts of the mine. They received in 
 exchange Disease, Madness, Destruction and 
 Death, in the vile poison yclept whisky and 
 brandy, but in reality a spurious and villainous 
 concoction known as ' Cape-smoke.' 
 
 The many nameless outrages, the quick and 
 awful murders, the terrible atrocities, prompted 
 by the maddening fumes of Cape-smoke that eat 
 like fiery virus into the very brain and heart of 
 the drunken native, no eye hath seen, save that 
 great Eye looking down through the millions of 
 quiet stars in the calm and solemn night the 
 unsleeping eye of God. 
 
 Their simple meal ended, the Kafirs set to 
 work to put things in order in their various 
 huts. A certain respect for the laws of clean- 
 liness was rigorously enforced by the mine 
 officials. Saturday evening usually witnessed 
 a setting to rights and clearing up of things 
 generally. After this by no means enjoyable 
 half-hour, for the boys were lazy beyond de- 
 scription, and thought any work not done in the 
 mine entirely a waste of time, they prepared to 
 amuse themselves, each after his own fashion. 
 
 A few turned in for the night, others donned 
 their best blanket and set out towards the 
 camp, calling at the adjoining mines on the 
 way. A number sought the grimy bar of
 
 184 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 some canteen, losing their money as a rule 
 while drinking heavily or dice-throwing. 
 
 The most sensibly-disposed remained in the 
 compound peacefully smoking their pipes, 
 joking and chaffing, singing and telling stories, 
 a pastime in which the native takes extreme 
 pleasure. Vivid in imagination, rich in humour, 
 and full of a savage kind of poetical power of 
 description, their tales and legends abound in 
 beauty. 
 
 Quite an attentive group were squatting 
 round one spokesman, listening to his narra- 
 tive in rapt silence, their shining eyes following 
 every motion of his body as he strode up and 
 down, emphasising his words by highly dramatic 
 gestures. The firelight cast his figure into 
 grotesque relief on the canvas walls of the hut 
 near by ; but his listeners had eyes and ears for 
 nothing else as they followed breathlessly the 
 recital of the triumphs of a great Zulu chief and 
 his brave warriors. When the story was ended, 
 the actor in this imaginary drama sank down by 
 the side of the blaze, and proceeded to light his 
 pipe amid deep silence, more significant than 
 applause, and highly complimentary to the 
 efforts of the story-teller. 
 
 Presently a skinny young Kafir sprang into-
 
 A SATURDAY NIGHT'S DEBAUCH 185 
 
 the middle of the circle. His appearance was 
 the signal for roars of merriment. 
 
 " Show us the singing missis ! " screamed 
 one of the group. 
 
 At which the young Kafir ceased his 
 grimaces, and, snatching a gay-coloured blanket 
 from the one nearest to him, proceeded to fasten 
 it round his middle, letting the ends trail behind 
 him. Throwing out his chest until his back was 
 almost a curve, he ambled on tiptoe towards the 
 centre of the circle, going through a series of 
 bows and grins in imitation of a lady's manner, 
 comical in the extreme. His audience gravely 
 watching him the while, evidently reserving 
 their mirth for an expected coup. Then fol- 
 lowed a pantomimic talk, interlarded with 
 gestures and grimaces in clever imitation of a 
 well - known Transvaal prima-donna's style. 
 Suddenly the boy stretched out his arms to 
 their fullest extent, and, standing on his toes, 
 rolling up his eyes, opening his mouth to its 
 very widest, gave vent to a prolonged quivering 
 yell which sent the group into paroxysms of 
 laughter so violent that they rolled over one 
 another in their glee ; the boy meanwhile am- 
 bling back and forth with a succession of yells 
 and shrill trills that would have made the 
 fortune of a London costermonger.
 
 1 86 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " Show how Bass kiss missis," shouted a 
 voice. 
 
 Whereupon the young Kafir ceased his yells, 
 and, divesting himself of the blanket, proceeded 
 to fasten it round a long knob-kerrie. Having 
 arranged it to his satisfaction, he stuck the stick 
 in the ground ; and, retreating to a short dis- 
 tance, began to coyly advance in imitation of a 
 young man stealing up behind his sweetheart, 
 repeating this manoeuvre several times to 
 the breathless satisfaction of those awaiting 
 the denouement. This was to seize the 
 blanket-covered stick in his arms, pressing it 
 frantically, and bestowing on the part meant 
 for the head a succession of jerky kisses, each 
 osculation accompanied by a sound like the 
 snap of a whip. This little comedy at the 
 expense of their newly - married manager 
 opened the way, after replenishing their pipes 
 and regaining their breath, to fragments of 
 facetious gossip. 
 
 " My old Baas in Barberton," said one, 
 "jumped another Baas' missis. The Baas, 
 dat my Baas jump his missis, come round 
 the compound, blazing mad. My old Bass, he 
 say to me, ' Jim, you up-saddle the two greys, 
 mighty quick. Take the missis away quick to 
 Heidelburg.'
 
 A SATURDAY NIGHT'S DEBAUCH 187 
 
 " We rode all night. Dat was a brave 
 missis. My old Bass caught up with us the 
 next day, and we rode all the way to Kim- 
 berley. My old Bass bought all the horses we 
 rode. He'd buy fresh ones every place we 
 stopped, and sell ours. My old Bass give me 
 the last we rode, and the missis give me three 
 ten-pound notes." 
 
 This recital seemed to tickle the Kafirs 
 immensely, to whom the lawless capture of 
 another man's missis seemed a capital joke. 
 
 " I had a missis in Pretoria," began another, 
 with a good-humoured face and round Bushman 
 head, "who would not leave me work alone. 
 She was always looking in the kitchen. I could 
 not even smoke a pipe. She talked, talked, 
 like this," moving his jaws spasmodically, to the 
 amusement of his listeners. 
 
 " I tell the Baas, the Baas shake his head 
 and laugh ; he was afraid of the missis himself. 
 I think and think. The missis give me a nice 
 pair of trousers and shirt ; she say I must always 
 wear them. I think. Next time the missis 
 come in the kitchen I was polishing the knives 
 and forks, and I had nothing on. The missis 
 yell like this," giving vent to a shrill shriek, 
 thereby sending his hearers into fits of laughter, 
 " and run away. That night the Baas look in
 
 1 88 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 the kitchen door, when I was frying steak, put 
 his finger on his nose, and say 
 
 " ' Han, you clever dog, what's you done with 
 your trousers? Hurry up supper.' Then he 
 wink and go away, but the missis never come 
 to the kitchen again." 
 
 After this story had been commented on and 
 laughed over, the group began to break up, as 
 the night, which had fairly settled down, began 
 to grow chilly. A few remained by the fire 
 chatting and laughing, the remainder dispersed, 
 some to their huts, and a few started off in the 
 direction of a canteen situate on the road just 
 outside the boundaries of the great mining 
 estate. 
 
 Among these stragglers was a little party of 
 four, who kept together. They were all Zulus, 
 fine-built fellows ; they tramped with the long 
 stride born of perfect freedom of limb and 
 muscle. Keeping close together, they walked 
 in pairs, the two older men taking the lead ; 
 they were very intimate, occupying the same 
 :hut, .sharing everything with each other like 
 brothers. Another companion, a stalwart Mata- 
 bele, formed the fifth. 
 
 A more peaceable, inoffensive little party was 
 not to be found on the reef that night. The 
 younger men were laughing softly as they
 
 A SATURDAY NIGHT'S DEBAUCH 189 
 
 discussed the stories they had just heard. The 
 details seemed very piquant to their bachelor 
 ideas ; they did not yet possess wives of their 
 own. In fact this was the reason they had 
 treked to the great mine, where wages were high 
 and sure to good workers. They had already 
 saved between them the price of two bullocks, 
 which was to furnish the purchase-money to 
 buy a wife for each. 
 
 It had been arranged that on the following 
 Monday morning the five were to obtain passes, 
 and start at once on their long trek homewards 
 to the kraals. 
 
 The two older men, followed by the others, 
 made straight for the canteen. On entering they 
 found the bar quite full. Not a white man was 
 present save the owner of the canteen. 
 
 He was a burly, red-visaged fellow, clad in 
 knickerbockers and white flannel shirt, low shoes 
 and brown hose. A broad-brimmed digger's 
 hat was set well on the back of his head. The 
 small watchful eyes, brutal mouth and bull-dog 
 neck, betokened a man of low instincts but 
 resolute courage. He eyed the four Zulus, as 
 they entered, with complacence. They were 
 rarely seen at his bar, and he judged rightly 
 that it was their last if their first visit ; it being 
 a custom with the most frugal Kafirs to indulge
 
 190 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 in a final jubilation, which meant a drunken 
 spree, before leaving the mine. 
 
 " What is it to be ? " he said, coming forward 
 as the oldest of the Zulus edged his way to the 
 counter. 
 
 "A bottle of three star," replied the Zulu, 
 laying down a sovereign. 
 
 The canteen-keeper picked up the gold piece 
 and turned slowly from the bar. Running his 
 eye over the array of bottles on the shelves 
 against the wall, he took down several, but 
 replaced them. 
 
 " The beggars have plenty of money, I 
 know," he muttered to himself. " They have not 
 spent any of it here. No I won't give them 
 'three star.' I'll give them a bottle of my 
 special brand that will make their throats 
 burn and send them back for more. I'll get 
 the best part of their little pile before Monday 
 morning." 
 
 Selecting a bottle, he carefully dusted it, then 
 he said, suavely 
 
 "Shall I uncork it?" 
 
 At a nod from the Zulu he drew the cork, 
 and replacing it, handed the bottle, together with 
 five shillings change, to the Zulu, who thanked 
 him, and departed, followed by his com- 
 panions.
 
 A SATURDAY NIGHT'S DEBAUCH 191 
 
 And thus the deed was done, the evil, evil 
 deed, and no pitying God stretched forth a 
 hand. 
 
 After loitering a short time about the stoop 
 of the canteen, the Zulus set out for a saunter 
 along the reef. 
 
 The night, which to European eyes seemed 
 very dark, was to them full of the radiance of 
 the stars ; every object, even the most dis- 
 tant, being clearly defined in the darkness 
 by the mellow light from those wonderful 
 stars, suspended like a myriad silver lamps in 
 the cloudless heavens. 
 
 A short trudge brought them to the foot of a 
 low stony kopje. Here they seated themselves 
 amidst the karroo bushes growing thickly 
 around. The old Zulu drew the cork from the 
 bottle, and took a long drink ; after which he 
 passed it to his companions, who promptly fol- 
 lowed his example. The last to drink balanced 
 the half empty bottle between a couple of 
 boulders. Pipes were re-lit. While they puffed 
 and placidly stared before them, the old Zulu, 
 warmed by the brandy, began to chat for the 
 benefit of the others. 
 
 " The camp looks well to-night, with all its 
 lights shining. There, a team of bullocks is 
 coming up the Natal road. It's a fine night to
 
 192 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 lead a team. Perhaps that's a bonus Driver 
 bringing that big team to camp." 
 
 The last observation seemed to interest the 
 Zulus greatly. They started up and gazed in 
 the direction pointed out by the old man. 
 There, far away, but to a practised eye distinctly 
 visible against the starlit horizon, appeared a 
 moving mass of shadow. 
 
 " There will be lots of mealies next week," 
 cried one of the young men. 
 
 " I heard the Baas telling one of the white 
 boys about the bonus." Stretching his hand 
 out for the bottle, he took another long drink, 
 the others again following his lead. The last 
 drinker cast away the empty bottle. 
 
 " The Baas said the Landdrost offered fifty 
 pounds bonus to the carriers to bring mealies, 
 quick, from the Free State and Natal." 
 
 This statement of the Zulu was not exactly 
 correct, as the bonus offered was twenty 
 pounds. 
 
 " That's not much ! " resumed the Zulu, con- 
 temptuously ; "I could give more if I sold my 
 oxen. But I buy wives ; they can grow mealies 
 without any bonus, ha ha ! " 
 
 The old Zulu's laugh was re-echoed by 
 his companions, until the kopje rang. The 
 bright-eyed lizards scampered deeper into the
 
 A SATURDAY NIGHT'S DEBAUCH 193 
 
 crannies of the rocks, frightened by the harsh 
 sound. 
 
 " I have enough here," he went on to say, 
 stroking his breast, where hung the little sheep- 
 skin bag containing his hoard of many months' 
 savings, " to buy three strong fat wives." 
 
 " Three fat wives ! " they repeated admir- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Yes, you must hurry up, youngsters," he 
 said patronisingly to the two young bachelors, 
 as he rose from the stone on which he had been 
 sitting. " Work hard and get many wives ; the 
 more wives, the more mealies ! " 
 
 The young men followed meekly in the 
 steps of the old Zulu and his companions as 
 they treked back to the mine. 
 
 " Lohia, how many bullocks can we buy ? " 
 
 "Twelve," answered Lohia. 
 
 " How many wives will that buy ? " 
 
 "Two." 
 
 "Just one a-piece." 
 
 After this brief summing-up of their prospects, 
 the young Zulus trudged on in silence. 
 
 " That was good brandy," said the old Zulu, 
 as they came in sight of the red glow in the 
 single window of the canteen. 
 
 "Yah," grunted his companion. 
 
 The old Zulu strode into the canteen, and
 
 194 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 laid the price of another bottle on the bar. No 
 need for the villainous canteen-keeper to make 
 a selection this time; a smirk of satisfaction over- 
 spread his evil face as he produced the brandy. 
 
 " Have a throw, gentlemen," he said, in- 
 sinuatingly poising the dice-box in his hand ; 
 " only a sixpence, cheap, for a good drink if 
 you win." 
 
 The Zulu glared at him. The brandy he 
 had already drunk began to heat his brain. 
 The warrior spirit within him was stung by 
 something in the man's manner. Although 
 only a native digger, the men who employed 
 him were infinitely superior to a man of the 
 canteen-keeper's stamp, and the Zulu knew it. 
 His great eyes flashed as he retorted 
 
 " We want no bones ; throw them to the 
 white dogs." And, turning on his heel, the old 
 Zulu left the canteen-keeper standing, dice-box 
 in hand, petrified with astonishment. 
 
 "Well! I am blowed," he cried; "what 
 cheek ! The old nigger is boozed already. 
 That second bottle will settle them. If they 
 are not crazy drunk by to-morrow, and do not 
 come begging for more, I'll never believe in 
 that special brand of mine again." 
 
 Just then the little brown clock over the door 
 struck the hour of twelve.
 
 A SATURDAY NIGHT'S DEBX\UCH 195 
 
 " Here you, Jake," he called to his native 
 assistant, "turn down the light, kick out those 
 drunken niggers, and lock up." 
 
 The niggers were one too many for the boy. 
 He fought and pushed, but in vain ; the half- 
 dazed poor tipsy wretches would not budge an 
 inch from their places on the floor and benches. 
 
 "Wait a minute, I'll settle them," the 
 canteen-keeper roared, as he caught up a 
 sjambok. 
 
 The sound of his voice seemed to sober some 
 of the Kafirs, who made for the door as fast as 
 their legs would carry them. The remainder, 
 too drunk to heed any danger, and too helpless 
 to move if they did, were subjected to blows 
 and kicks until they staggered away, or were 
 thrown bodily out of the door by the merciless 
 brute, whose vile wares had brought them to 
 their pitiable condition. 
 
 The door made fast, window closed, and all 
 secure for the night, the canteen-keeper pro- 
 ceeded to count up his profits. 
 
 "Good business," he muttered, as he spread 
 his gains on the grimy bar. 
 
 Pouring out a glass of brandy (not his special 
 brand this time) he drank it off. He then 
 threw a shilling to his little attendant, and 
 pocketing the coin, turned out the light. Wrap-
 
 ping a karros round him, he rolled under the 
 bar and was soon fast asleep. 
 
 Outside, the Kafirs were steeped in drunken 
 slumber. One poor wretch lay with his head 
 in a pool of blood oozing from a wound in his 
 scalp, inflicted by the heavy boot of the canteen- 
 keeper. Another lay doubled up under the 
 stoop. A Kafir dog had found his helpless 
 master and crouched by him, gently licking a 
 wound in his face. 
 
 Over all, dog and Kafir, canteen and mine, 
 the midnight stars shone peacefully. Over 
 the hut of the old Zulu, tossing restlessly 
 in his drunken sleep, muttering and gnash- 
 ing his teeth. Over the dreaming Lohia 
 and his companions, empty brandy bottle 
 still in hand ; over all, the horror of that 
 Saturday night's debauch. As they would 
 again shine, bright, serene and calm, over still 
 greater depths of drunken crime to follow.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 SUNDAY DOINGS ON THE REEF 
 
 SUNDAY morning dawned bright and warm. A 
 great rush of wind swept the horizon clear of 
 every vestige of cloud, whirling in its course 
 the red dust of the road into cone-like vapoury 
 shapes, as far as the eye could see. 
 
 As an African night is full of the indescribable 
 glory of darkness, so also is the day one blaze 
 of blinding golden splendour. The long drought 
 had swallowed up every trace of green on the 
 veld. The very stones of the kopjes had lost 
 their greyness, and were red as the sand-covered 
 plain and road. Cattle, horses, men and their 
 very abodes, were grimy with the red soil, until 
 the whole land seemed washed in the colour of 
 the gold for which they toiled and fought. 
 
 " Will the rain ever come ? " was the burden 
 of the hour, the cry upon every lip, the prayer 
 of every heart. 
 
 About nine o'clock, a neat, comfortable Cape 
 cart with well-groomed horses stood before one 
 
 o
 
 198 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 of the cottages of the compound It was the 
 cosy little home of the newly-married mine- 
 manager. 
 
 He stood on the white-painted lattice stoop, 
 talking with the director. The weather was 
 the subject of their talk, as they looked across 
 the broad acres of the mine, over the gently 
 swelling plateau to the distant horizon. 
 
 " I see no hopes of a let-up in this beastly 
 drought," the director was saying. 
 
 " The rain may come at any minute," 
 answered the manager, as he tugged at the 
 glove he was putting on. 
 
 " If it does not, then we shall be obliged 
 to shut up the works next week," groaned the 
 director. 
 
 "Oh, it is coming," said the manager, cheer- 
 fully. " I feel it in the freshness of the air. 
 There is rain somewhere near by. Ah ! at 
 last," he exclaimed with satisfaction as he 
 conquered a refractory button on his glove. 
 
 The director smiled on seeing the almost 
 dandified care with which the manager was 
 arrayed. A few months back he scorned a 
 glove, and delighted in the comfort of flannel 
 blouses and knickers fastened only with a scarf 
 of red silk, a battered felt hat, and shoes of the 
 broadest, heaviest make.
 
 SUNDAY DOINGS ON THE REEF 199 
 
 A few weeks passed somewhere in beautiful 
 Devonshire had transformed this Transvaal 
 rake, born and bred in the Republic, but of 
 good old Devonshire stock. 
 
 A pair of lovely eyes had completely van- 
 quished him the first time he gazed into their 
 blue depths ; and their owner, a shy English 
 maiden, was brave enough to cross the world to 
 be the bride of a digger. 
 
 The manager actually blushed as he saw the 
 look of amusement in the director's eyes ; for 
 there is nothing the Afrikander dreads more 
 than to be the subject of the chaff he loves to 
 inflict on another. 
 
 " I am sorry to have kept you waiting, dear," 
 said a soft voice at that critical moment, as a 
 dainty figure appeared in the low doorway. 
 She extended one neatly-gloved hand in greet- 
 ing to the director, while the other held a 
 handsome little case containing hymn and 
 prayer book. Simply and tastefully dressed 
 as only an English girl understands how to 
 do, she was as fair and sweet as one of her 
 native daisies. 
 
 "Will you not come with us?" she said, 
 giving the director a smile of appeal. " The 
 music at St Mary's is very fine indeed, and 
 Mr Darragh is such a good speaker."
 
 2oo THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " I'm afraid, Mrs Robertson, I am too 
 utterly lost to be saved now." 
 
 "Oh, I don't think of you as one lost," said 
 this pretty missionary, taken aback at finding 
 her innocent scheme detected. " But I thought 
 you might feel lonely, and and 
 
 " Let me put you in the cart, love," exclaimed 
 the manager, seeing her embarrassment ; while 
 the grey-haired director looked in undisguised 
 admiration at her very becoming blushes. 
 
 " There now, little wifey, are you comfort- 
 able ? " he inquired, as he tucked the dust wraps 
 round her. " The back of the cart is apt to be 
 draughty ; you will feel it at the side there. 
 Jim, hurry up. Fasten this flap. All right ; 
 now, go ahead," he called, as the Kafir took 
 the reins, and he settled himself at the side of 
 his wife. 
 
 " Easy there over those planks. Don't jolt 
 the cart too much." 
 
 The sluit safely crossed, the cart was soon 
 spinning along at a good pace towards Johan- 
 nesburg. As it neared the canteen previously 
 described, the keeper came on the stoop. His 
 red face was cleanly shaven, a well-brushed 
 coat and trousers replaced the flannel shirt and 
 knickerbockers. The bar was decorously closed. 
 Not a trace remained of the disorder of the
 
 SUNDAY DOINGS ON THE REEF 201 
 
 previous night. As the cart approached he 
 respectfully raised his hat, and did not replace 
 it until the cart had passed. 
 
 " Who is that man ? " 
 
 " The keeper of the canteen, love," said the 
 manager. 
 
 " Such an evil face," said his wife, with a 
 little shudder. " What is a canteen ? " 
 
 "A bar, my darling." 
 
 "A bar! Then that dreadful man sells 
 whisky. That is the reason he looks such a 
 wicked one." 
 
 " Not necessarily, my darling," said the 
 manager, placidly. " Some one must sell it ; 
 and he is a good sort." 
 
 " Oh ! I am sure he is not. Does he sell 
 whisky to the Kafirs ? " 
 
 " Of course, my little wife. What a ques- 
 tion ! " 
 
 "Then it is very, very wrong, Harry." 
 
 The manager laughed, and drew her close 
 to him. 
 
 " What an earnest little Puritan it is ! " he 
 said, kissing the tempting cheek near his. 
 
 " But it is wrong, Harry, oh ! so dreadfully 
 wrong, to leave all those poor blacks at the 
 mercy of that man. He looks as though he 
 would sell them poison if he could."
 
 2O2 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " There, my little wife must not make herself 
 unhappy." 
 
 " Oh, I won't, Harry, if you will promise me 
 to send that dreadful man away." 
 
 " I'll do anything to please you, my darling," 
 exclaimed the manager, with all the fervour of 
 a young husband. 
 
 His wife smiled contentedly, and put her soft 
 little hand in his, for, now that the camp was 
 in sight, the billing and cooing behind the un- 
 conscious Kafir driver was at an end. 
 
 Commissioner Street was quite deserted ; but 
 round the neighbourhood of St Mary's were to 
 be seen throngs of church-goers. 
 
 He was very proud of the graceful, self- 
 possessed young wife beside him. He felt 
 surprised, almost uncomfortable, at the keen 
 womanly instinct which had set her up in arms 
 against the keeper of the canteen. That her 
 fears were true he knew perfectly well ; but the 
 habit of custom he also knew would take more 
 than a woman's word to overcome. Neverthe- 
 less he was deeply touched by her sympathy for 
 the blacks ; and for the first time he was sensible 
 of the fact that they were much wronged. He 
 resolved to do something towards removing 
 the canteen, keeper and all, of whose doings 
 he knew more than he would have cared to
 
 SUNDAY DOINGS ON THE REEF 203 
 
 acknowledge. Then he fell to devising ways 
 and means to accomplish his design ; when the 
 rector's voice beginning the sermon aroused 
 him from his reverie by these significant words, 
 " Where is thy brother Abel ? " 
 
 His wife turned her limpid eyes to his. There 
 was a world of meaning in that innocent look. 
 He laid it to heart more than the teaching 
 of a hundred sermons. 
 
 In the hut in the mine the old Zulu and 
 his companions slept the exhausted sleep of 
 drunkenness. Now and then one would stretch 
 himself and grope blindly round in search of 
 the bottle to quench his consuming thirst, and 
 suddenly roll over again unconscious. The air 
 of the hut was stifling with the sickening fumes 
 of liquor. 
 
 A little army of ants industriously besieged 
 the shining calves of the snoring Lohia. A 
 small colony of blue-bottle flies made a nest on 
 the grimy chin and went on tours of inspection 
 in and out the orifice of the old Zulu's wide 
 open mouth. A great black spider noiselessly 
 spun his silken web across an opening in the 
 tent wall, and adroitly caught the half-dazed 
 flies as they sought an escape, surfeited and 
 dizzy with the fumes of the old man's breath.
 
 2O4 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 Now and then a Kafir dog would run his 
 nozzle into a rent in the canvas and give a 
 series of sniffs, then sneak away with an air of 
 disgusted disappointment. Once or twice a 
 gust of wind shook the tent, raising a mist of 
 dust, and disturbing the flies in their nest, the 
 ants at their pastime, and almost demolishing 
 the patient labour of the watchful spider. 
 
 Finally a fiercer gust than usual beat so 
 violently on the hut, that the old Zulu was 
 at last awakened. He sat up with a start, 
 spluttering and choking, having swallowed a 
 few of the unlucky flies that had ventured on too 
 daring an exploration down his throat. 
 
 He crept outside the hut, and drew himself 
 together in a heap on the veld. Throbbing 
 head and burning throat made him long wildly 
 for a mouthful of brandy ; until tormented with 
 thirst and unable to resist the cravings within 
 him, he called one of the young Zulus and 
 despatched him for another bottle. 
 
 It was high noon before the little party left 
 the tent and set out to trek it to a mine on the 
 opposite side of the camp. Their steps were 
 comparatively steady after their rest, and their 
 nerves braced up a bit owing to the brandy, of 
 which they had cautiously taken but a mouthful, 
 consequently they managed to pass along the
 
 SUNDAY DOINGS ON THE REEF 205 
 
 road and through the camp without attracting 
 attention. Once well out of the precincts of 
 the camp and fairly on the main reef, a halt was 
 made. Selecting a spot, at some distance from 
 the road, screened by debris of quartz from 
 observation, the Kafirs proceeded to rest and 
 recuperate after the long walk from Langlaagte, 
 a distance of five or six miles. The bottle 
 was handed round, while a sharp look - out 
 was kept for any mounted police that might 
 be in the vicinity, a precaution quite un- 
 necessary. The dust which arose in whirl- 
 ing clouds every few minutes kept those vigil- 
 ant guardians of the Sunday's peace, who 
 might have been near, too busily occupied in 
 guiding their horses to find time to watch the 
 movements of any prowling niggers. 
 
 The mine to which the Kafirs were going 
 lay on the other side of the road, a distance of 
 a quarter of a mile to the left. A good view 
 of it could be obtained from their resting-place. 
 In fact, the old Zulu had selected the spot for 
 the purpose of reconnoitring, as the Baas of 
 that particular compound objected to the visits 
 of strange natives, owing to the frequent rows 
 among the boys. From this vantage-point 
 they could watch for their friends, and signal 
 them to come to the road. The reef declined
 
 206 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 gently from the main road, parallel with which 
 lay the foundation of a steam-train line in 
 process of construction, between Boksburg, a 
 new mining village, and Johannesburg. The 
 mine on which the Kafirs kept watch was 
 quite near the road. On a slightly elevated 
 spot stood the three-roomed single-story zinc 
 shanty of the manager and engineer ; around 
 were scattered numerous outhouses and stables. 
 A cart and ' spider ' out-spanned near by, warned 
 the Kafirs that the Baas was 'at home.' From 
 this point the ground sloped to a hollow 
 some distance off, wherein was planted the 
 shaft, engine-house, and a cluster of canvas 
 huts. 
 
 An hour or so passed before there was 
 signs of any one moving about in the com- 
 pound. The boys were evidently in their huts, 
 or on some part of the mine not in view. 
 
 The old Zulu and his companions were 
 beginning to grow impatient, when a sudden 
 stir in the compound attracted their attention. 
 
 What appeared to be a great commotion was 
 going on ; the boys could be seen rushing out 
 of the huts and running in every direction. 
 
 Several made for the manager's shanty, 
 running as if for their lives. 
 
 "There goes the Baas," said the old Zulu,
 
 SUNDAY DOINGS ON THE REEF 207 
 
 as a man in his shirt sleeves joined the natives 
 and hurried towards the scene of excitement. 
 Three or four men, also in their shirt sleeves, 
 followed quickly on the heels of the Baas, who 
 carried in one hand a heavy sjambok. 
 
 " A fight ! " cried the young Zulu, as men 
 and natives seemed to mingle in a struggling 
 mass. 
 
 The sight was too much for the prudence of 
 the Zulus. Fortifying themselves with another 
 dose of brandy all round, they made for the 
 compound as fast as their legs would carry them. 
 It was indeed a fight, and a pretty serious one, 
 to judge by the bruises and many bleeding 
 heads to be seen. One of the Kafirs was 
 stretched out insensible on the veld, a terrible 
 gash in his head, looking as though his skull 
 had been fractured. 
 
 " Boys ! who did this ? " cried the Baas, 
 speaking in Kafir. 
 
 The sound of his voice put a stop to the 
 fighting. 
 
 " Dick from the Jumpers did it, Baas ! " cried 
 several. 
 
 An ugly blood-smeared native took to his 
 heels and turned to run ; but he was too drunk 
 to run far, and was soon seized and brought 
 back, struggling and fighting.
 
 208 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " Throw him down ! " cried the manager 
 sternly. 
 
 In an instant the Kafir was sprawling on the 
 ground ; but he began to kick so violently that 
 the manager could not approach him. 
 
 " Sit on him ! " 
 
 The next moment the fellow lay face down- 
 wards. Two of the boys sat on his legs, a 
 couple on his shoulders, while the manager 
 administered a vigorous thrashing with his 
 sjambok. 
 
 The sound of their comrade's howls provoked 
 the natives who had assisted him in the fight, 
 and they began an indiscriminate onslaught on 
 the nine Kafirs, which was promptly checked 
 by the manager's friends ; one of whom, the 
 stalwart captain of the cricketers, struck out so 
 vigorously that the offenders fled completely 
 routed. 
 
 Meanwhile the Zulus watched with breathless 
 admiration the prowess of the Baas, as he sent 
 well-directed blows on the prostrate Kafir. 
 Strength and courage was in their eyes the 
 highest type of manliness ; and the splendid 
 young Englishman seemed to them a perfect 
 Hercules. They felt the utmost respect for a 
 Baas who could do his own flogging. And this 
 Baas had never failed in that yet.
 
 SUNDAY DOINGS ON THE REEF 209 
 
 " Now be off! " said the manager, as he 
 ceased the blows ; " the next time I catch you 
 on this compound I'll give you worse than 
 that." 
 
 The boys would have liked to give the fellow 
 something on their own account as they released 
 him ; but a look from the manager controlled 
 them ; and the wretch, thoroughly sobered, 
 limped away, howling lustily. 
 
 Order being restored, and the wounded natives 
 attended to, the manager and his friends re- 
 turned to the shanty, where, over their pipes 
 and whisky, they discussed the fight. 
 
 " I say, Archie, there, got in a few good 
 rounds." 
 
 "It is disagreeable, to be sure," observed the 
 manager, between the puffs ; " but if I called on 
 the mounted police to help me, I should lose all 
 control over the boys. They have a great con- 
 tempt for the police, and would have more for 
 me if I did not settle things myself; so I am 
 obliged to beat the rascals occasionally." 
 
 " And run the chance of a fine ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I would rather pay the 'fiver' than lose 
 control of the boys. It's all owing to those 
 illicit canteens there ; they sell the Kafirs bad 
 whisky and worse brandy. Something must 
 be done to stop it, and that very soon."
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A SUNDAY NIGHT'S CRIME 
 
 THE old Zulu and his companions listened 
 eagerly to the details of the fight. 
 
 Dick, it seemed, was a very demon when 
 under the influence of drink, and made it his 
 business to get drunk regularly, from Saturday 
 night to Sunday night. It was his custom to 
 roam about from mine to mine, seeking a fight. 
 He, in company with three of his comrades, had 
 come to the compound, and attacked the first 
 Kafir they met, whose yells aroused the others. 
 Hence the fight. 
 
 The old Zulu's eyes burned with strange 
 lustre as he talked. He drank freely of the 
 hospitable bottle passed round, while his enter- 
 tainers discussed the plans for the morrow ; 
 when it was agreed that they should all meet 
 at the office in Market Square, to secure their 
 passes. 
 
 The Zulus prepared to depart. Their friends 
 stumbled out with them in the gathering-Mark-
 
 A SUNDAY NIGHT'S CRIME 211 
 
 ness, as the sundown hour had passed during 
 their talk. 
 
 It was seven o'clock ; and as the party left 
 the hut the night grew suddenly black as an 
 abyss. Not a single star was to be seen. 
 Guided by the instinct of habit, they reached the 
 road in safety. A walk of half an hour brought 
 them within sight of the lights of the camp. 
 Here they parted, with promises of meeting 
 on the morrow. The Zulus tramped forward, 
 while their companions returned to the main 
 reef. 
 
 And now a wonderful and magnificent 
 phenomena frequently seen in Africa, and 
 particularly on the high plateau of the Trans- 
 vaal, was approaching. 
 
 Miles and miles away on the edge of the vast 
 plain, appeared the harbinger of an electric 
 storm. Suddenly the blackness was rent by a 
 myriad slender spears of pale amber light shoot- 
 ing in zigzag lines across the heavens, and as 
 suddenly lost again in the intense darkness. 
 Then a single sword-like flame of opalescent 
 ruby flashed straight up to the very zenith of 
 the heavens, like the blade of a warrior-god, 
 and was gone. 
 
 Soon a thin trail of pale rosy vapour, like the 
 first delicate flush of the dawn, quivered afar, a
 
 212 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 moment, and sank out of sight. In the 
 instant the whole heaven was covered with a 
 sweep of lurid light, as though the very gates 
 of hell had burst apart, reflecting the infernal 
 glow. This was flecked with inky clouds, like 
 smoke from the bottomless pit. The whole 
 land blazed for one brief interval. Shafts, hut, 
 cottage, spire and street, the faces of the Zulus, 
 the sleeping bullocks out-spanned on the veld, 
 waggon and tent, shone with an appalling beauty, 
 like a picture in a huge golden kaleidoscope, 
 then all disappeared again in darkness. 
 
 And thus, ever and anon, the wondrous 
 pictures on the shifting camera of the storm 
 came and vanished ; until the air tingled with 
 the overflow of electricity from the surcharged 
 heavens. 
 
 The old Zulu seemed to have gone mad with 
 the storm. The brandy burned into his brain 
 like the smelting of red-hot iron. He talked 
 wildly as he staggered along. The colour of 
 the blood he had seen flowing in the fight 
 seemed ever before his eyes. The very dark- 
 ness was red red above and red below. 
 
 The combined influence of the debauch of the 
 last twelve hours and the electrified atmosphere, 
 together with the lack of food, unbalanced the 
 old man's brain, and drove him completely mad.
 
 A SUNDAY NIGHT'S CRIME 213 
 
 His companions were silent, already stupefied 
 with drink and hunger. Lohia was like the old 
 man, completely unbalanced, and ready for any 
 act of crazed excitement. 
 
 "Another drink, boys," muttered the old 
 Zulu, when in sight of the canteen where they 
 had begun the debauch of the previous night. 
 
 The others followed him blindly, stupidly, as 
 he stumbled into the bar. 
 
 The canteen-keeper welcomed them with con- 
 temptuous familiarity. The invitation to olice- 
 throwing was this time eagerly accepted. The 
 old Zulu, becoming excited over his winnings, 
 drank incessantly. His companions were not 
 so fortunate, and grew sullen, with the exception 
 of Lohia, who noisily disputed the old man's 
 gains. A quarrel seemed imminent ; when the 
 canteen-keeper interfered, and roughly jostled 
 the party away from the bar ; whereupon the 
 Zulus raised a clamour of indignation, threaten- 
 ing . the burly canteen - keeper, who promptly 
 cleared them out by kicks, cuffs and blows. 
 
 " I'll have no disorderly niggers fighting 
 here ! " he cried with an oath, as he sent the old 
 Zulu spinning into the road. " Be off now ; 
 and don't show any of your black faces here 
 again till you're sober ! " 
 
 With these parting words, the door was shut
 
 214 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 with a bang, and the Zulus were left to pull 
 themselves together as best they could. 
 
 The blow of the canteen-keeper's heavy boot 
 half-sobered the old Zulu for a time, but roused 
 in him a terrible frenzy of rage. 
 
 "I'll kill him for that," he cried, as he picked 
 himself up. "He make me drink. He make 
 us all drink. He take our money then kick 
 us out. I kill him sure for this." He 
 gnashed his teeth, and struck out blindly in 
 all directions with the knob-kerrie in his 
 clenched hand. 
 
 " Let us go to the compound," said one. 
 
 " No ! " roared the old man. " I stay here 
 all night. I kill him ! " 
 
 By dint of coaxing and reasoning, the Zulus 
 prevailed on him to go with them, Lohia sup- 
 porting the old man, the two swaying and 
 staggering in the darkness. 
 
 It was now nine o'clock. Gigantic patches of 
 murky clouds veiled, here and there, the electric 
 storm raging in the heavens. Flash after flash of 
 pale, steely light lit up the scene, revealing the 
 Zulus groping their way towards a broad ditch 
 in an opposite direction to the mine. Blinded 
 by the utter darkness one moment, dazzled by 
 the brilliant flashes of lightning the next, dazed 
 and dizzy from drinking, they wandered to the
 
 A SUNDAY NIGHT'S CRIME 215 
 
 edge of the sluit ; the next moment the five 
 men lay sprawling at the bottom. 
 
 The fall frightened the Zulus back to their 
 senses. Lohia yelled and clutched the old man 
 in his terror. The others, however, realising 
 that they had only fallen into a sluit, called to 
 him reassuringly ; and lay quiet, until they 
 finally drifted into a doze. 
 
 Meanwhile a man was slowly advancing 
 along the bank of the ditch a short distance 
 off. During the moments of darkness he stood 
 still, availing himself of the flashes of light to 
 take a few steps forward. So intent was he in 
 picking his way, that he knew nothing of the 
 presence of the Kafirs, until he heard the yells 
 of Lohia. 
 
 Perceiving that the cries came from the 
 direction of the sluit, he quickened his steps, 
 and by the aid of a half dozen flashes, found his 
 way to its edge. 
 
 The next flash disclosed the figure of the man 
 to the wide-open eyes of the old Zulu. 
 
 And then an awful thing occurred. The 
 sight of the white face looking down on him 
 enraged the old man anew. Springing up, he 
 clambered with the strength of madness on to 
 the bank, the unsuspecting man offering to 
 assist him.
 
 216 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 In a moment the Zulu dealt him a heavy 
 blow with his knob-kerrie. The man, com- 
 pletely surprised, staggered ; then rallied and 
 endeavoured to defend himself with a light 
 cane he held in his hand. The next glare of 
 light revealed the Zulu ready for a second 
 attack ; whereupon the man struck out with 
 his cane, inflicting a sharp stinging blow on 
 the upraised hand. The Zulu never winced, 
 but stood awaiting the next flash, by the light 
 of which he dealt a second heavy blow on the 
 head of the defenceless man, who fell forward 
 stunned and bleeding. 
 
 " I kill you ! " he muttered, raining blows on 
 the prostrate figure. " You not kick Zulu 
 again. I kill you." 
 
 By this time Lohia, followed by the others, 
 had scrambled out of the sluit. 
 
 " Don't kill him ! " cried one, snatching the 
 knob-kerrie from the old man and throwing it 
 away. " Let us take his clothes and watch." 
 
 This was agreed upon ; and the unconscious 
 man was soon stripped of all clothing. 
 
 But the old Zulu was not content with robbing 
 his victim. Leaving the others to do that work, 
 he groped, staggering and stumbling, searching 
 for the knob-kerrie. But he could not find it. 
 Cursing and raging, he sought in every direc-
 
 A SUNDAY NIGHT'S CRIME 217 
 
 tion, getting down on his hands and knees, 
 tearing up the dusty veld grass in his disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 Just as he was about to give up the search, 
 his knee came in contact with a substance that 
 did not feel like a stone. Picking it up, he saw 
 by a gleam of the lightning that he had found 
 a broad heavy clasp-knife, which had evidently 
 fallen from the trouser-pocket of the man during 
 the struggle. 
 
 Uttering no sound, the Zulu opened the knife 
 and examined it closely ; then he returned to 
 the spot where his companions were busy over 
 their spoil. 
 
 At that moment a groan escaped the man, 
 who had regained consciousness. 
 
 " Don't kill me ! " he moaned, as the old Zulu 
 sprang upon him. " For God's sake spare my 
 life." 
 
 One of the Zulus struggled with the old man, 
 striving to keep him back. 
 
 " I will kill him. He kicked me out ! " 
 
 " It is not the canteen-keeper," cried the 
 other, still holding him back. 
 
 But the old Zulu's frenzied strength was too 
 great ; wrenching himself away, he sprang for 
 the second time on him. 
 
 A great flash of light revealed the broad
 
 218 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 white breast of the prostrate man. With one 
 stroke he drove the knife to the hilt in the heart 
 of his victim. 
 
 An awful panic fell upon the others when 
 they beheld the old Zulu's bloody work. For a 
 time they were paralysed with fear, and unable 
 to stay the murderer's hand, as he mutilated the 
 dead man in a horrible manner, while Lohia 
 assisted the fiendish work. 
 
 They had not the power to steal away, so be- 
 numbed were they with fright. 
 
 Then at last the old Zulu dragged the body 
 to the sluit, and cast it in, their senses returned, 
 and picking up their booty, they made for the 
 compound, dragging the murderer away with 
 them in the darkness. 
 
 Hours after, when the electric storm had 
 vanished, wrapped in the folds of the black and 
 heavy clouds, and the stars came out, they shone 
 with soft and peaceful light on the dead face, 
 upturned in its cold bed at the bottom of the 
 sluit. 
 
 Each gaping, oozing, bloody wound cried out 
 in the silent night to the quiet heavens above 
 for vengeance. 
 
 Vengeance, not on the outcast being, be- 
 sotted, deranged with drink, whose unwitting 
 hand had done the deed ; but for vengeance
 
 A SUNDAY NIGHT'S CRIME 219 
 
 on those who live upon the debauchery of the 
 black man ; the men who sell him the curse of 
 drink ; who barter for his hard-toiled savings a 
 few mouthfuls of liquid madness. 
 
 For vengeance on the purveyors of rotten 
 whisky, the illicit canteen-keeper and all the 
 many men sleeping that night, with a peaceful 
 conscience for bed-fellows, the men who fatten 
 on the degradation of their black brothers. 
 
 For vengeance on such as these, cried out 
 that poor mutilated body, soaking in its own 
 blood, in that lonely sluit!
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 A MORNING RIDE TO WILLOW GROVE 
 
 ONE morning at six o'clock, Jacobs brought the 
 horses to the door of the chambers in Percy 
 Buildings, according to instructions received the 
 night before. A Kafir boy followed, carrying a 
 tray bearing a cup of steaming fragrant coffee. 
 The door of the sitting-room was open, while 
 Ariadne stood waiting, whip in hand, equipped 
 for her morning ride. 
 
 " I am glad, Jacobs, to see you so punctual," 
 she said with a smile, taking the coffee from the 
 Kafir, who stood by grinning while she drank 
 it. "I judge from the way you are showing all 
 those ivories that you want a reward. Does he 
 deserve it, Jacobs ? " 
 
 " Yes, madame ! " answered Jacobs. "He 
 got the coffee very quick." 
 
 " Well, there's a sixpence for you, little 
 blackie." 
 
 The boy did not understand the words, but 
 he understood the sixpence, which he seized
 
 with a chuckle, then darted out of the door, 
 tray and all, stopping when half way down the 
 alley to drain the cup ; after which he carefully 
 scooped out the remains of the sugar with his 
 small black fingers, licking them vigorously as 
 he disappeared round the corner of the passage. 
 
 After caressing the horse, who showed his 
 delight in seeing his mistress by a succession of 
 low whinnys ; admiring his glossy black coat, 
 shining like satin ; petting and patting him 
 until the sensitive animal felt thoroughly con- 
 fident and happy : a process Ariadne never 
 omitted, believing it a wise plan to make the 
 best possible friends with one's horse before 
 mounting him she sprang into the saddle. 
 
 " Do not get breakfast ready," she said, as 
 Jacobs adjusted her riding skirt ; "I shall 
 breakfast at the 'Grove.'' 
 
 Some men in flannels, bathing towels hung 
 over their shoulders, on their way to the baths 
 in the buildings, met her at the entrance of the 
 street passage. She bowed coldly to their 
 effusive greetings, in Johannesburg style, as 
 they stood aside to let the horse pass. 
 
 The quiet and peace of early morning hung 
 over the street as the horse leisurely picked his 
 way along. The bars, adorning every corner, 
 were still closed ; while here and there a mid-
 
 222 
 
 night lamp smoked and spluttered away in the 
 niche over a shop door, or in the recess behind 
 a bar-window. The street was empty ; and the 
 horse, whose hoofs made no sound on the soft 
 soil, startled the dogs lying curled up asleep, 
 some of them right in the middle of the 
 roadway. 
 
 " Steady, Prince," said Ariadne, as the horse 
 shied when turning the corner, as he came sud- 
 denly on a bullock-waggon outspanned in the 
 roadway. 
 
 She guided him carefully over the small space 
 available round the crouching bullocks ; startling 
 the big Boer driver from his slumbers beside his 
 wife and little ones snugly ensconced in their 
 canvas bed-chamber ; rousing the little naked 
 Kafir vourpouper, sleeping between the two 
 great oxen, his black head pillowed on one, his 
 grimy legs rolled under the other, the beasts 
 warming as well as sheltering him. 
 
 For a moment the boy gazed with half-open 
 eyes at the vision before him ; and then dropped 
 off to sleep again, with a thought only for the 
 beautiful black horse that had awakened him 
 from his dreams. The Boer turned on his side 
 with a grunt, and likewise dropped asleep, as 
 Ariadne, clearing the tangled mass of bullocks, 
 rode on.
 
 A MORNING RIDE TO WILLOW GROVE 223 
 
 The next turn led straight through a short 
 street, lined on either side by shanties huddled 
 together in indescribable fashion, occupied mostly 
 by Hindoo shopkeepers, coolies, workmen, and 
 their families. An occasional shanty, whose 
 door and single-latticed window was painted 
 red, and red curtained, likewise proclaimed the 
 abode of the Chinee. If the scene was un- 
 sightly, the various odours mingling in the 
 morning air were worse, rendering the spot a 
 perfect fever-bed and sink of contagion. Moslem 
 and Celestial were invisible, the dirty stoop of 
 hut and shanty empty, save for the few dumb 
 members of the domestic household, the lean 
 hungry-looking fowls roosting here and there, 
 with mangy dogs and drowsy disreputable- 
 looking cats for companions. 
 
 To the end of this fetid lane, crossed by a 
 narrow sluit, now dry and dusty, the broad flat 
 stones at the bottom caked with the hardened 
 yellow slime, Ariadne cantered the horse at a 
 brisk pace. Once over the sluit, another five 
 minutes' canter brought her to the brow of the 
 low hill overlooking the camp. Here again was 
 passed a collection of straggling shanties, of 
 which a canteen on one side and a chemist's 
 shop on the other were the most pretentious. 
 Passing quickly through this little hamlet, she
 
 224 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 guided the horse across the veld. To the right 
 sloped gently upward the low hill. To the left 
 in the distance lay the valleyed reef, dotted with 
 clusters of shanties, shafts, batteries, and all the 
 signs of mining industry. No tree or shrub 
 broke the monotony of the view. All was red 
 soil, red dust and deep-coloured quartz. The 
 land rolled over the vast plateau in swelling- 
 kopjes and low-lying valley, until lost to sight 
 in the blue distance of the horizon. 
 
 The morning air blew fresh and crisp in her 
 face, while the genial rays of the sun beat on her 
 back and shoulders with gentle warmth. Prince 
 tossed his handsome black head in evident 
 pleasure when the wind flicked his silken mane ; 
 he set his slender hoofs in the springing 
 veld with intense satisfaction. Horse and rider 
 were in a delightful glow when the ' Willows ' 
 came in sight. There Ariadne drew rein, and, 
 leaning forward, lightly stroked the glossy neck 
 of the horse, as she gazed on the charming 
 scene before her. 
 
 Below, in the lap of the gently declining hill, 
 lay Willow Grove, a mass of rich, deep-toned 
 green, set like an emerald gem in the waste of 
 barren, veld -covered plain. Wind, dust, and 
 drought seemed to have lost their power to 
 work havoc with the verdant beauty of that
 
 A MORNING RIDE TO WILLOW GROVE 225 
 
 embowered spot. It might have been a bit of 
 lovely Devonshire wafted across the seas at the 
 beck of a magician's wand, and dropped in the 
 sandy bosom of the desert plateau. 
 
 Many long years ago a hardy Boer settler had 
 planted those lines of poplar and willow by the 
 side of rippling stream and shallow pool. He 
 taught the golden honeysuckle to twine its loving 
 tendrils round clump and gnarled trunk, pouring 
 thereon a sweet store of honeyed fragrance from 
 a thousand tiny cups. He reared the blushing 
 purple-hearted fuchsia, the sweet wild rose, the 
 white-browed daisy, the blue-lipped violet. He 
 built for the good vrouw and little toddlers those 
 ruined adobe walls, thatched roof, drooping eaves 
 and quaint-windowed nooks, now carefully pre- 
 served, and bearing pathetic witness to that 
 home in the wilderness.* There the cope 
 trekers found rest at last and peace 
 from the wars and troublous times of the 
 colony. 
 
 Absorbed in her contemplations, Ariadne 
 knew nothing of the approach of another rider, 
 until the sound of his voice startled her from the 
 reverie into which she had fallen. 
 
 * This interesting relic has, since writing, been destroyed by 
 fire. It was the homestead of the original owner of the property 
 now known as the Langlaagte Mine.
 
 226 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " Good morning," he was saying. " This is 
 quite an unexpected pleasure." 
 
 " What is an unexpected pleasure?" answered 
 Ariadne, coldly. 
 
 "Why, meeting you, to be sure." 
 
 " Oh ! " she said, with an air of studied in- 
 difference, " I thought you meant the view of 
 the Willows." 
 
 "Not at all," he answered, "although the 
 sight of the Grove is a pleasant surprise when 
 seen from this point for the first time. But I 
 must confess that you are the last person I would 
 have thought of meeting on such an early ride." 
 
 " And why, pray ? " 
 
 " Well, intellectual pursuits, late hours devoted 
 to literary toil, poetical visions, and all that, you 
 know. The brain must rest after such drains 
 upon its strength ! " 
 
 " You are quite right," she answered, calmly, 
 ignoring his attempts at chaffing. " Late hours 
 devoted to literary toil call for repose, and this 
 is my way of taking it." 
 
 " And a capital way it is. That horse of yours 
 is a beauty. Where did you get him ? " 
 
 Ariadne's voice softened as she answered, for 
 she was very proud of the horse. 
 
 "He belonged to a poor fellow that was 
 ruined in the first of the smash. I bought him
 
 A MORNING RIDE TO WILLOW GROVE 227 
 
 for a mere song. Dear old Prince," caressing 
 the horse with one hand, while arranging 
 the reins in the other. " And now," riding 
 on, " I must bid you good-morning, Captain 
 Achilles." 
 
 " I think I am going in your direction," he 
 said, " if you have no objection to letting me 
 ride beside you." 
 
 " None whatever," she answered. " I haven't 
 a monopoly of the road, I'm sure." 
 
 " I say, it is too bad to snub a fellow this way. 
 I have been trying to get a chance of seeing you 
 alone for an age. Do you always ride alone ? " 
 
 "Yes, always," answered Ariadne, with an 
 emphasis on the last word. 
 
 " And your sister, does she not ride ? " 
 
 " No. She is more useful in keeping away 
 intruders and answering my letters." 
 
 " By Jove ! I should think she was," said the 
 young man. " I have reason to know what 
 a dragon she is. Why do you not see me 
 when I call ? " 
 
 " Because," began Ariadne, impetuously, a 
 gleam of anger in her eyes. Then suddenly 
 checking herself, she answered quietly, " I did 
 not wish to hear what you have to say ! " 
 
 " But you must hear it sooner or later." 
 
 "Then let it be later," she said, reining the
 
 228 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 horse before the threshold of the old Dutch 
 homestead. It now served as a hotel which 
 offered accommodation respectively to man and 
 beast, after the fashion of an English roadside 
 inn. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr Spears," said Ariadne, 
 as the gentleman landlord, a fine -looking 
 Englishman of middle age and sportsman-like 
 bearing, appeared in the door. 
 
 " Good morning, madam. I am glad to 
 see you have taken advantage of the beautiful 
 weather," he said, as he hastened to assist her 
 in dismounting. " Did you enjoy your ride ? " 
 
 " Yes, thank you. How fresh everything 
 looks." 
 
 " The rains are beginning to do the shrubs 
 and trees good, as well as laying the dust. 
 How are you, captain ? " 
 
 " Right as a fiddle. Have you anything 
 good for breakfast ? " 
 
 " I was sure madam would avail herself of 
 the fine morning for a ride, and "- looking 
 dubiously at the other "I ordered her favourite 
 breakfast, a grilled fowl, kidneys on toast, and 
 salad." 
 
 " There is not enough for two ? " 
 
 " No ; ' however, if you don't mind wait- 
 
 
 mg
 
 A MORNING RIDE TO WILLOW GROVE 229 
 
 " I have no objection to sharing the fowl and 
 other good things with Captain Achilles," said 
 Ariadne, on seeing the landlord's dilemma. 
 " No thanks, if you please," she said in an 
 undertone, as the captain began a pretty speech ; 
 "I do it to oblige Mr Spears." 
 
 Leaving the horse with many instructions to 
 the care of a Kafir stable-boy, Ariadne followed 
 the landlord into the long, low chamber, once the 
 Boer farmer's living-room, now converted into 
 a dining-room, the original character of which 
 had been carefully preserved by the landlord. 
 
 The thatched roof visible above the broad 
 rafters toned a rich brown with age, formed the 
 ceiling. The walls likewise bore marks of age 
 in the primitive plastering of ant-heap, rudely 
 applied by the thrifty hands of the long ago 
 dead and buried master. Two small deep 
 windows, the heavy sills notched, dented and 
 worn, no doubt by generations of hardy little 
 Boers, lighted the room. The floors, also of 
 ant-heap, were firm and hard, though worn 
 smooth as polished oak by the hundreds of feet, 
 some of which were mouldering away in the 
 little Dutch graveyard near by, that had passed 
 in and out over the homely threshold. A low, 
 narrow door, opposite the honeysuckled em- 
 bowered windows, opened on another chamber 
 
 Q
 
 230 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 of similar character, whose wide fireplace served 
 admirably for the grilling, frying, and toasting 
 necessary to Mr Spears' hospitable cuisine. 
 
 Near one of the windows stood a table cosily 
 laid out for the breakfast, on which the landlord 
 had bestowed much thoughtful care. 
 
 If walls and ceilings and floor were grimy 
 with age, all else was as neat and shining as 
 busy fingers could make them. The tiny panes 
 of glass in the old windows were as clean and 
 bright as crystal, the linen spotless as snow, 
 while the silver and china breakfast service 
 would have done honour to the most fastidious 
 housewife. 
 
 " This is delicious coffee," said Ariadne, when 
 they were seated at breakfast, " and the kidneys 
 are broiled to perfection. I can get nothing fit 
 to eat in camp. You should prize your cook, 
 Mr Spears ; there is not another like him in the 
 Rand." 
 
 11 I thank you," answered the landlord, with a 
 smile ; " I am glad he pleases you. These 
 native cooks are very good if properly trained. 
 I must say Hans seems to give general satis- 
 faction.'' 
 
 " Your cook is a Kafir, then ? " observed 
 Ariadne, in some surprise. 
 
 " Yes, and extremely intelligent. Have you
 
 A MORNING RIDE TO WILLOW GROVE 231 
 
 never seen him ? No ? then I'll call him. He 
 will be quite delighted. Nothing pleases the 
 poor devil more than a good word now and 
 then." 
 
 " Hans ! " he called out in a loud voice. 
 
 " All right, Baas ! " came from the kitchen, 
 the door of which was quickly opened, and an 
 enormous Kafir made his appearance. 
 
 " The breakfast is very good, Hans, and 
 madam wishes to tell you how she enjoyed 
 it. She says you are the best cook in the 
 Transvaal ! " 
 
 "Hi! hi!" roared the great fellow. "I'm 
 much obliged to the missis." 
 
 Ariadne looked pleasantly at the black, good- 
 natured face, the shining eyes, and glittering 
 white teeth, now exposed to the utmost in a 
 broad grin. A battered old felt hat, much too 
 small, was stuck on his woolly head. A pair of 
 tattered trousers, barely covering his huge 
 limbs, were held on by a bright blue cotton 
 handkerchief tied round his hips. A sleeveless 
 shirt, of a glaring pattern in red and white 
 check, completed this costume of incongruous 
 odds and ends. 
 
 " Come here, Hans," said Ariadne. " There's 
 something for you," dropping some silver in the 
 big, white-lined hand.
 
 232 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, missis ! " he cried, 
 as he looked at the coin, and, at a nod from the 
 landlord, shuffled back to the kitchen. 
 
 " What a big fellow he is," she said. " What 
 is he ? 
 
 " Oh ! he's a Swazie. You don't find many 
 in work out of the mines ; but I have had him 
 for some time." 
 
 " Does he drink ? " said the captain. 
 
 " That's his only fault," answered the land- 
 lord. "He never drinks here, I'll not allow it ; 
 but when he gets into the clutches of some of 
 his friends from Langlaagte or the Crown Reef, 
 and they drag him off for a spree at one of the 
 canteens, he comes back like a madman, and 
 it is many days before I can get him straight 
 again." 
 
 " By the way," said Captain Achilles, " was 
 it not at some place near here that the natives 
 murdered that poor fellow one Sunday night ? " 
 
 " Not quite near here," answered the land- 
 lord ; " the sluit in which the body was found is 
 about a mile back of us, between the Langlaagte 
 and Crown Reef property." 
 
 " What are they going to do to the 
 wretches ? " 
 
 " Hang the lot of them, I believe. They are 
 in gaol now."
 
 A MORNING RIDE TO WILLOW GROVE 233 
 
 " Please don't speak any more about the 
 awful affair," interposed Ariadne, with a shudder. 
 
 " Certainly not," said the landlord, changing 
 the conversation. " I have some splendid fruit 
 from Pretoria," he hastened to say, as she rose 
 from the table. " Will you have it now, or shall 
 I send it out to the garden ? " 
 
 " I believe I should like some later, if you 
 will send it to me. I shall be in my usual seat 
 by the big round table under the willows. I 
 have a lot of reading to do." 
 
 This was said with an emphasis intended for 
 Achilles, to whom she had not addressed a word 
 during the meal.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 CAPTAIN ACHILLES PLAYS THE ROLE OF IAGO. 
 
 IT was one of the most secluded spots, at the 
 end of a broad pathway, ornamented on either 
 side by carefully-trimmed grass, and bordered 
 with rows of scarlet geraniums intermingled 
 with beds of daisies and violets. A spot out of 
 sight of the smooth lawn-tennis ground, the tables 
 and benches scattered round under the shadow 
 of the spreading trees, near the rows of quaint, 
 thick-walled, single-chambered old dwellings for 
 the accommodation of Mr Spears' permanent 
 guests. To this spot Ariadne directed her 
 steps when she left the breakfast table so 
 unceremoniously. 
 
 Under the last of a row of willows, whose 
 feathery branches swaying and drooping par- 
 tially concealed the rudely-constructed rustic 
 bench erected against the gnarled and massive 
 trunk, Ariadne seated herself with a little sigh 
 of content. 
 
 Drawing the rickety, moss-stained table
 
 THE ROLE OF I AGO 235 
 
 nearer, she opened the pocket edition of Keats, 
 her constant companion, and resting her elbows 
 on the table, began to read. 
 
 There was no sound to disturb her in that 
 quiet spot, save the soft whirl of waters clammed 
 up in a deep sluit near by, the low twitter of 
 the young birds overhead receiving their morn- 
 ing lessons in nest-making, the dull echoes, like 
 distant thunder, of the great battery in the 
 Langlaagte mine, whose huge shafts were just 
 visible through the interlacing branches of the 
 orchard of pear trees before her. 
 
 She was sitting so quiet, absorbed in the 
 magical verses of Endymion, that she took no 
 heed of the many voiceless, velvet-footed visitors 
 who had come, emboldened by her silence, to 
 pay her a morning call. 
 
 The rustling, as she turned the pages of her 
 book, disturbed them not ; it fell soft as the 
 whisper of the willow leaves on their delicate 
 senses. There was something in her warm, 
 human presence that drew them to her, one and 
 all, and made them cling to the edge of her 
 riding skirt, creep into its folds, and curl cosily 
 up on the brim of the soft felt hat shading her 
 golden hair. They had no fear of the dainty 
 riding boots, but slyly inspected heel, toe, and 
 arching instep. An indefinable instinct taught
 
 236 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 them to feel secure, and assured those beautiful 
 insignificant atoms of creation, that, in this, to 
 them, mountain of humanity, dwelt no will to 
 destroy or injure them. 
 
 And while they busily crept in and out of 
 every fold and crease, rubbing their silken 
 bodies in pleasant friction against the fuzzy nap 
 of her gown, Ariadne sat motionless, uncon- 
 scious of the little world swarming around her, 
 until one bold, big fellow glided from her sleeve, 
 and stretched his sinuous, shining, transparent 
 body against her ungloved hand. 
 
 There he lay quite still, evidently enjoying 
 the contact with the cool, soft flesh, while 
 Ariadne noted the deep, rich crimson of his 
 coat, flecked out beneath by black and. yellow 
 stripes. A ray of sunshine, struggling through 
 the dense foliage above, alighting on his back, 
 transformed him for the instant into a fiery car- 
 buncle, in which she could trace the blood 
 pulsing through a network of fringed veins. 
 Then the ray vanished, and with it disappeared 
 that beautiful vision of the surging tide of life 
 within the otherwise repulsive grub upon her 
 hand. 
 
 Very slowly and carefully she closed her book, 
 putting it down with her disengaged hand, and, 
 folding the other over it, prepared to watch the
 
 THE ROLE OF I AGO 237 
 
 vagaries of her queer guest, who had curled 
 himself up with every apparent intention of 
 enjoying a sound nap on his new-found couch. 
 
 Soon another, of deep indigo-hued coat, 
 crept over the edge of the book ; then another, 
 clad in yellow mail, followed by a score of 
 many-coloured brothers, surrounded the citadel 
 of her motionless white fingers. 
 
 " Poor little grub, there is much that is beau- 
 tiful in your short existence," mused Ariadne. 
 " You are happy in your own lonely way. The 
 dew refreshes you. The sweet root of shrub 
 and tree strengthens you. The sun warms 
 your delicate body. The rain and storm have 
 no terrors for you, who can in a moment 
 burrow for shelter in the soft sandy soil. 
 Where," said Ariadne, lightly pressing one 
 beneath her finger, " did you get that glittering 
 coat ? Have you found it sleeping in a bed of 
 golden quartz in the great mine over the 
 way? 
 
 " Soon the glorious summer-time will be 
 here, and with it your feast of roses, when you 
 will gorge yourself with the luscious strawberry, 
 and kiss the white bloom from peach and 
 apricot. Yea, happy is your lot, watched over 
 by the same God who guides the fate of kings 
 and empires. But you are happier than kings,
 
 238 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 for you know not the pain of mortal striving 
 and straining. The great God has not given 
 you a soul, but He has given you a life, brief, 
 'tis true, yet full of the richness of mother earth, 
 on whose breast you tranquilly subsist, and as 
 tranquilly die. 
 
 " And you," as a truly magnificent specimen, 
 fully four inches long, crept over the rim of the 
 table, and slowly glided near with stately 
 undulations of his gorgeous body, " surely you 
 are the very prince of caterpillars, with your 
 cuirass of vivid green, that wonderful gleaming 
 web of black and silvery white woven into your 
 sinuous back. Those shiny golden antennae 
 waving above your tiny eyes set like black 
 jewels in your glossy head. How resplendent 
 you will be when that woven coat has blossomed 
 into a shimmering pair of gossamer wings. 
 But now you are content to creep as lowly as 
 the ugliest grub among them all. You preach 
 the old, old sermon of patience and humility, 
 the lesson of humble contentment through the 
 
 o 
 
 season of grovelling in probation, ere the wings 
 are grown that lead to a higher life for me as 
 well as for you, my pretty caterpillar ! " 
 
 " I say," exclaimed the voice of Captain 
 Achilles, " you will be eaten up by those beastly 
 grubs if you don't get out of this."
 
 THE R6LE OF I AGO 239 
 
 " I'm not afraid of them," answered Ariadne, 
 scarcely raising her eyes to the man standing 
 at the opposite side of the table, "any more 
 than I am afraid of another and more loathsome 
 
 kind of grub who eats up a woman's reputa- 
 
 
 tion. 
 
 " I don't understand you," he answered, with 
 a wicked laugh, seating himself on the edge of 
 the table, and flourishing his riding whip with 
 nervous jerks. 
 
 " You have been indulging in whisky and 
 soda, Captain Achilles ; and I would thank you 
 to take yourself away." 
 
 " Captain Achilles," he echoed mockingly, 
 mimicking her tone ; " it used to be Archie ; 
 now it is Captain Achilles ! " 
 
 " Yes, and it will be Captain Achilles to the 
 end of the chapter." 
 
 " Oh ! indeed, h'm " he ejaculated, as he 
 
 twirled his whip and brought it down vigorously 
 on the gorgeous caterpillar, cutting the unfor- 
 tunate grub literally in two, while inflicting a 
 stinging blow on Ariadne's folded hands. 
 
 For a moment she sat quite still, holding her 
 breath to keep back the cry of pain that sprang 
 to her lips, and closing her eyes to quench the 
 tears that gushed forth at the shock of the blow. 
 Then she arose, and, folding her hands behind
 
 240 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 her to hide the vivid marks thereon, confronted 
 the man seated on the table still nonchalantly 
 twirling his whip, with white face and blazing 
 eyes. 
 
 " Cruel brute ! Worse than brute, for brutes 
 are cruel only to defend ! Why have you killed 
 that harmless worm ? Ah ! I was right in 
 saying there were grubs among men who would 
 eat a woman's reputation with as little compunc- 
 tion as you have cut the life out of that helpless 
 insect." 
 
 " Oh, don't bother about that old caterpillar," 
 he went on, apparently unconscious of the blow 
 he had given her. " If I knew that you were so 
 fond of the grubs I'd get you a bushel of them. 
 But I want to have an understanding on this 
 subject of a woman's reputation, which you fling 
 at my head every time we speak." 
 
 " It is a subject on which you have no 
 scruples whatever ; in fact, it is a subject you 
 don't believe in at all." 
 
 " Oh ! damn reputation ! What does a 
 woman want with reputation in the Rand ? If 
 she has any she had better stay away, and look 
 after it. By Jove, she can't do that here. This 
 is no place for women with reputations. What 
 did you come here for, if you had any ? " 
 
 " I came here because a merciless destiny
 
 THE R6LE OF IAGO 241 
 
 meted out to me the fate to suffer bitterly at 
 the hands of such as you." 
 
 " I quite fail to catch your drift. I wish you 
 would explain what you mean." 
 
 " You don't understand me ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Then you are one of the most contemptible 
 prevaricators on the face of the earth. You 
 deceive yourself when you imagine that I know 
 nothing of your insinuations, your calumnies, 
 your efforts to separate Hector and myself. I 
 know them all. And while I am at a loss to 
 comprehend your motive unless it be," she 
 said with a quick disdainful laugh, " that you 
 are in love with me yourself." 
 
 " And if I acknowledge that I am ? " he burst 
 out, as he sprang from the table. " What then ? 
 Answer me straight. No fencing, if you please." 
 
 " I would say," answered Ariadne, turning 
 steadily away her pallid face from his gaze, 
 "that I would sooner die than exchange the 
 love Hector has given me for such as you have 
 to offer." 
 
 Her answer seemed to stagger him, for he 
 turned abruptly away and strolled along the 
 garden path ; while Ariadne picked up her book, 
 and, shaking the folds of her habit, prepared to 
 leave the garden.
 
 242 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 Suddenly he turned back ; and, coming close 
 to her, said in a voice which he strove to render 
 indifferent, " Thank you for giving me a straight 
 answer ; but it's thrown away, I am sorry to 
 say as I don't happen to tell the truth." 
 
 " I am glad to know that, and quite willing 
 to forgive you, as I would not wish to make my 
 worst enemy unhappy if I could help it." 
 
 " No ? I quite believe you," he said with a 
 sneer, "when I see you doing all in your 
 power to make one who is your worst enemy 
 happy." 
 
 " One who is my worst enemy happy ! What 
 do you mean ? " 
 
 " I propose to let you find that out yourself, 
 my charming Ariadne." 
 
 " I gave you a straight answer a moment ago. 
 Now give me one. What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I would rather be excused," he said, taking 
 his old position on the table, and resuming his 
 twirling of the whip, " if you don't mind." 
 
 " I do mind And I insist on an answer." 
 
 " Oh ! I really could not tell you. It would 
 be a breach of confidence." 
 
 " Captain Achilles," said Ariadne, emphati- 
 cally, "again I insist on an answer! " 
 
 " What is the use of nagging a fellow like 
 this?" he cried, with assumed anger. "I tell
 
 THE R6LE OF IAGO 243 
 
 you I will not be guilty of a breach of con- 
 fidence." 
 
 " You have been guilty of worse than a breach 
 of confidence in casting the slur of insinuations 
 on Hector, for you can mean but him, as you 
 well know he is the only man I wish to make 
 happy. But your odious hints and sneers are 
 lost on me, let me assure you. I would not 
 believe one word from you against him, not if 
 you swore on a stack of Bibles as high as the 
 highest willow in the grove." 
 
 "Ah! indeed," he answered, while leisurely 
 preparing a cigarette, dropping the tobacco 
 slowly on the paper in his hand as he spoke, 
 " you love Hector. There is no doubt about 
 that ? " 
 
 " None whatever," exclaimed Ariadne, with 
 a strange foreboding straining at her heart. 
 
 " And you would marry him ; give up all am- 
 bition ; be content to live the rest of your life 
 buried in Africa ? " 
 
 " I would do all that and more." 
 
 " Well, I am glad to hear you say so, 
 glad to find you a woman of more pluck than 
 I gave you credit for, and you will need it all, 
 for 
 
 He paused to re-light the cigarette ; it seemed 
 to Ariadne that he prolonged the answer more
 
 244 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 from a spirit of tantalisation than through 
 reluctance to tell any unpleasant truth. 
 
 " Confound that cigarette, will it never 
 light ? " 
 
 " Let me hold your cap while you strike the 
 match inside." 
 
 " Thank you, how thoughtful you are ! " he 
 said, puffing away in the shelter afforded by 
 the cap. 
 
 " I say," he cried, suddenly catching the cap 
 and her hand in his, "don't treat me as you do. 
 Spare just a little of that love you lavish on 
 Hector for me. There," kissing the livid mark 
 on her hand, "let us be friends." 
 
 " Never ! " exclaimed Ariadne, snatching her 
 hand away. " Never do you understand ? 
 Never. You would have to be born over again 
 to be capable of inspiring such love as I bear 
 for Hector." 
 
 "And most worthy he is of it," sneered 
 Achilles, his eyes flashing with jealous rage. 
 
 Ariadne made no reply. 
 
 "Yes, Hector intends to marry you," he 
 resumed, slowly puffing away between each sen- 
 tence, "when the mine is floated "- puff "and 
 there is lots of tin " puff " and he can set up 
 a nice little shanty- villa "- puff "piano" 
 puff "horses and cart" puff "and all that,
 
 THE R6LE OF IAGO 245 
 
 you know " puff "he will marry you " puff 
 " and " puff " commit bigamy ! " 
 
 " Bigamy ? " gasped Ariadne. 
 
 " Yes, bigamy ; that is the sort of man you 
 loye ; that is the sort of a man I should be if I 
 were born over again, as you just said, in order 
 to inspire you with love. Yes, my charming 
 Ariadne, your darling Hector has a wife in 
 England : not an aristocrat, as you are, to be 
 sure, but his wife all the same. But he will 
 marry you. The law of England need never 
 reach here. You will both be very happy, I am 
 sure as you deserve. You said a moment ago 
 you would give up everything for him, and more. 
 Well, now you have the chance to prove it. 
 Marry him, and my blessing go with you ! " 
 
 With the last words ringing in her ears he 
 left her. 
 
 For a moment Ariadne stood helplessly star- 
 ing after his form, as he strode rapidly over the 
 pathway between the beds of budding flowers- 
 stared till path, trees, sky and flowers seemed 
 to revolve in one mighty whirl round his face 
 with its cruel smile. Then all grew black as 
 night. Her heart gave a great throb. She 
 swayed forward and sank insensible at the foot 
 of the great willow. 
 
 " Baas, Baas ! " cried a Kafir boy, a few 
 
 R
 
 246 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 minutes later, as he rushed breathlessly to the 
 landlord, " the missis fall down by the tree in 
 the garden." 
 
 Mr Spears found her lying face downwards. 
 As he gently raised the poor stricken head a 
 little line of crimson oozed from the pallid lips. 
 " Bring some brandy and water. Run, you 
 black devil, as fast as your legs can carry you ! " 
 he roared to the gaping Kafir. 
 
 After much chafing of hands, bathing of 
 temples, and forcing of brandy through the 
 clenched teeth, Ariadne revived a few moments, 
 just long enough to moan 
 
 "My sister bring her to me," and relapsed 
 into unconsciousness once more. 
 
 Hours afterwards Ariadne returned to con- 
 sciousness, but stared in a dazed fashion at the 
 white walls and low ceiling of the room in which 
 she was lying. 
 
 The sun had gone down long ago, and the 
 silvery rays of the moon tipped with pearly 
 light the nodding willows, lawn, and vine- 
 covered hedge visible through the deep- 
 curtained window by her bed. In the soft 
 glow shining across the little chamber, she 
 saw the anxious face of her sister close to 
 her.
 
 THE ROLE OF IAGO 247 
 
 "Oh, my sister!" she cried, sobbing faintly, 
 and twining her arms round her, "take me 
 home." 
 
 "Yes, dearest," answered Kathleen, while her 
 tears fell fast on the golden head pillowed on 
 her breast ; "we shall go back to our dear 
 home, far over the seas, where no echo of the 
 sin and wretchedness of this spot shall ever 
 trouble you again."
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 A BIG LITTLE MANAGER 
 
 A SHORT little man, with a big, bullet-shaped 
 head, round protruding eyes, heavy brows, and 
 thick, sensual-looking lips, between which was 
 perched a briarwood pipe, was sitting at an up- 
 right piano, in the middle of a narrow space 
 enclosed by a wooden railing covered with 
 cotton plush, and devoted to the half-dozen 
 musicians dignified by the name, if not the 
 quality, of an orchestra. 
 
 The little man vigorously pounded on the 
 yellow keys, and when not absorbed in attend- 
 ing to the intricacies of the score before him, 
 found time to give the beat with one hand, 
 while rattling away with the bass with the 
 other. 
 
 The little man was ugly, coarse, and uncouth 
 to the last degree, but he made up for lack of 
 beauty in plenty of brain and indomitable pluck. 
 With the one he ruled, with the other he fought, 
 until he conquered every obstacle in his way,
 
 A BIG LITTLE MANAGER 249 
 
 and stood up before gods and men a successful 
 man with no thanks to either. 
 
 That he possessed the power of getting good 
 out of the most incongruous elements, no one 
 would gainsay who saw him at his post, shout- 
 ing, swearing, sweating, smoking, and singing 
 all in the same breath, in the herculean labour 
 of rehearsing the opera of 'Faust.' The Mar- 
 guerite had no voice, but tried to sing. The 
 Seibel had a voice but could not sing. The 
 Faust brayed like a donkey, or bleated like a 
 forsaken goat. The Mephistopheles had a voice 
 as big as his elephantine body ; he could emit a 
 bass note equal to the roar of an enraged lion. 
 A chorus of limp young women, with limper 
 voices, whose feeble efforts were completely 
 drowned unless the sprightly little leader held 
 her own with a succession of shrill notes by the 
 score of dirty, unkempt, but willing and earnest 
 chorus men. These did their work with a reck- 
 less disregard of rhyme, tone, or harmony, that 
 was as marvellous as it was inharmonious. 
 
 The little man knew all this, and more ; for 
 he was, singular to relate, an accomplished 
 musician without a tithe of training. 
 
 Training ! what had he to do with training ? 
 It was a loss of time. His principle was to go 
 straight to work with a bang, to do or die !
 
 250 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 He knew that Seibel was jealous as death 
 because she could not stretch her voice up to 
 the score and sing Marguerite, that she did not 
 understand the measure, and sulked so that she 
 lost the beat. 
 
 That Martha was driven to tears in her efforts 
 to hear the cue, and implored wildly for some 
 one to beat the time. 
 
 That Mephistopheles, disgusted with the 
 hurry and scurry of the music, was up at the 
 back of the stage, winking at the chorus, sing- 
 ing sotto voce, when he should have been down 
 at the footlights, helping the tenor and con- 
 tralto out of their difficulties by his experience 
 of a hundred performances of the opera. 
 
 That Faust, in shooting-jacket, knicker- 
 bockers and gaiters, with hat cocked on the 
 back of his head, cigar in mouth, lounging on 
 a chair, score in hand, did not know a bar of 
 the music, could not sing the part, and never 
 would, though he tried hard enough. 
 
 That Marguerite could not reach a single 
 high note, not if a year's output of the Jumpers' 
 mine was poured into her lap. 
 
 That the cornet tooted in the wrong bar to 
 his right. The violin scraped and scratched 
 out of tune on his left. The bassoon gave 
 melancholy yelps at the wrong beat. In fact.
 
 A BIG LITTLE MANAGER 251 
 
 that a chaos of sound and a warfare of time 
 assailed him on every side. 
 
 He knew all this, but never swerved for a 
 moment in his determination to produce the 
 opera, that masterpiece of grand melody, in less 
 than a week. In fact, the bills were already 
 displayed around the town proclaiming the 
 event. 
 
 But, was he not a perfect Trojan of determi- 
 nation, this ugly little man? Indeed he was. 
 And his worst enemy, looking on him seated 
 there, thumping the piano, beating time, giving 
 the cue, swearing at the chorus, bullying 
 Martha, abusing Seibel, working with voice, 
 limb, and brain, could not escape a touch of 
 sympathy, and wish him the success which such 
 commendable energy certainly deserved. 
 
 They were not a few, those who made up 
 the company of the little man's enemies. His 
 brusqueness lost him many a friend. He had 
 no patience with weakness, no pity for those 
 whom Nature had endowed with a delicacy of 
 mental equilibrium which his coarse balance 
 totally lacked. 
 
 Fine mental culture meant failure in a new 
 country, where the adventurous, the unscrupu- 
 lous, and the boldest dare-devilism secured the 
 highest place. Filled with that spirit, he
 
 252 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 tackled fortune with a rough and ready hand. 
 Possessed of the faculty of adaptability, he rode 
 rough-shod over difficulties that would have ap- 
 palled a man of superior mind and heart. 
 
 A failure in London, a failure in Melbourne, 
 a failure in New York, he was the Prince of 
 success in Johannesburg. Hence the little 
 man's luck. He had given the golden city her 
 first shanty-theatre, erected three years before. 
 This he had forsaken in a few months for a 
 new, commodious, and pretentiously-decorated 
 theatre built with the money, coined in hatsful 
 at the old one, when Johannesburg was a canvas 
 town. Now it was a full-fledged city that had 
 arisen like a dream of gold out of the delirium 
 of the gold-fever, wherein very naturally it was 
 the man of uncouth, unbridled energy who 
 came to the fore. 
 
 If the little man clinched success in the 
 matter of building theatres, he could not be 
 blamed for indulging an ambition to make those 
 walls resound with the masterpieces of Verdi 
 and Gounod, no matter how inadequate their 
 presentation to the 'indulgent Johannesburg 
 audiences, many of whom had left their critical 
 faculties, together with their reputations, for 
 safe-keeping behind them in London. 
 
 For three long hours the thumping toil of
 
 A BIG LITTLE MANAGER 253 
 
 piano and orchestra, braying of the tenor, growl- 
 ing of the bass, and piping of the soprano, 
 abetted by the howling efforts of the chorus, 
 interpolated now and then by skirmishes be- 
 tween the small army of dogs from the prima 
 donna's thin-skinned tiny greyhound to the 
 mangy cur of the theatre cleaner, all of which 
 were granted unlimited freedom of the stage- 
 continued with unabated fury. 
 
 Suddenly the little man arose and declared 
 the rehearsal over; for in South Africa, be it 
 known, there is nothing of the day and night 
 unflagging rehearsal to be found in London. 
 The most insignificant super would revolt at 
 the idea of a rehearsal carried beyond mid-day. 
 He would throw up the whole business, and 
 live like a Kafir, rather than give up that part 
 of the day devoted to tiffin and the indispensable 
 siesta. 
 
 The rising of the manager was the signal for 
 a hasty exodus of principal, chorus, and 
 musicians ; as all remembered it was salary day, 
 and the ' ghost ' was walking in the little ticket- 
 office of the theatre. 
 
 Martha was standing aside at the back of 
 the stalls, awaiting the exit of the impatient 
 crowd about to interview the 'ghost,' who 
 had never yet failed to show its face punctual
 
 254 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 to the minute, at one o'clock every Monday 
 
 morning. 
 
 As the little man approached her, he ex- 
 claimed in angry tones 
 
 "Why did you not know the music better 
 this morning? I can't understand how you, 
 who sang Lenora with only three rehearsals, 
 and made such a success, should stumble over 
 those few bars of Martha in such a style." 
 
 " You forget," replied the gentlewoman, 
 " that the music is entirely below my range of 
 voice, and that in my contract Seibel is the part 
 allotted me in ' Faust.' ' 
 
 " Yes, I know that," answered the little man, 
 mollified by the dignified explanation, " but I 
 can't help myself in giving you an unsuitable 
 part. Try and do the best with it you can." 
 
 " I shall endeavour to do so," said Martha, 
 moving away as Seibel approached. 
 
 "What was she saying?" whispered Seibel, 
 who was the little man's better-half. " Trying 
 to get you to give her my part, I bet. She 
 shan't have it. I hate her grand airs. I wish 
 you would send her away." 
 
 "Oh, don't talk nonsense, dear," he ex- 
 claimed, impatiently. "I'll have to take the 
 part from you if you don't sing it better than 
 you did at the rehearsal ; but there," warned by
 
 A BIG LITTLE MANAGER 255 
 
 a choking sob from his wife that his terror, a fit 
 of hysterics, was impending, " I'll tell Bernard 
 to come and study it with you this afternoon, 
 and make you perfect for to-morrow." 
 
 " Oh, thank you, darling ! " giving him a kiss 
 as they emerged from behind the portiere 
 separating the stalls and the lobby. 
 
 " What a lovely day," she said sweetly, 
 saluting Martha, whose only answer was a cold 
 bow. 
 
 As she flounced out and jumped into her cart, 
 a bewildering mass of fluttering feathers and 
 ribbons, Martha's glance rested scornfully on 
 the ungloved hands, blazing with diamonds on 
 every finger. Her heart ached with the bitter- 
 ness of the realisation that she had left friends 
 and home in a wild chase after fortune, only to 
 find her every chance snatched from her by the 
 jealousy and vanity of this overdressed creature.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE ASSISTANT LANDDROST HOLDS COURT 
 
 " BAAS, I swear by the Almighty that every 
 word I say is true. I was fast asleep in the 
 lock-up last night, when a big wind came and 
 blew the door wide open. The wind made me so 
 cold that I walked out of the door, and went right 
 away to my hut and got my blanket, for I was 
 shivering with cold. And when I was coming 
 back to the lock-up this morning, the constable 
 ketched me by the neck and put me in the 
 stocks, because, he said, I broke out of gaol last 
 night. But, before the Almighty, I am telling 
 the truth. The high wind blew the door open, 
 Baas ; before the Almighty it did, Baas." 
 
 The prisoner, a genuine Hottentot, clad in a 
 ragged pair of trousers, a faded blue cotton 
 shirt, and dilapidated digger's hat, gave his 
 evidence in Kafir- Dutch. A broad grin illumined 
 his jetty countenance, the humour of which was 
 apparently lost on the Assistant Landdrost, 
 seated in his rostrum, slightly above the level of
 
 THE LANUDROST HOLDS COURT 257 
 
 the room where he officiated as magistrate of 
 the Johannesburg Police Court. 
 
 " So, Alexander," said the magistrate, look- 
 ing at the prisoner steadily, despite the roars 
 of laughter which his naive defence elicited 
 from the crowd in court, " so you have been 
 stealing again. Not satisfied with paying a 
 surreptitious visit to the Landdrost's house a 
 short time ago, you must try your hand at the 
 brickfields. Well, officer, what is the charge ? " 
 
 "He borrowed a cart from the police-station 
 yesterday morning," said the policeman, "and 
 went to the brickfields, where he proceeded to 
 load the cart with two hundred and fifty bricks. 
 He was just about to drive off with the bricks, 
 when the owner came along and caught him. I 
 arrested him and put him in gaol. He broke 
 out last night ; and this morning I succeeded in 
 capturing him, when I put him in the stocks." 
 
 " Well, Alexander," said the magistrate, " you 
 are very ingenious, but no doubt your ingenuity 
 will bring you to the gallows. The charge of 
 theft must be passed. But I fear the high wind 
 of last night gave you a bad cold. I'll give you 
 a prescription that will warm as well as cure 
 you you shall receive ten lashes." 
 
 The unfortunate Hottentot was speedily re- 
 moved, amid howls and protestations, which
 
 258 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 occasioned renewed laughter and jeers from the 
 court, to give place to three coolies, named re- 
 spectively Kissimsing, Jatsulla, and Lutsing, on 
 a charge of cruelty to animals. 
 
 As the three men stood up in the dock, they 
 represented as repulsive-looking specimens of 
 humanity as could be found in the length and 
 breadth of the Transvaal. Clad in semi- 
 European dress, rough corduroys, loose shirts, 
 their heads swathed in gaudy bandanna hand- 
 kerchiefs, their feet shod in Malay sandals, they 
 looked capable of any cruelty, despite their 
 efforts to appear bland and innocent. 
 
 " Constable Delemore," said the Assistant 
 Landdrost, without even a glance in the 
 direction of the coolies, "state your charge." 
 
 "These men," answered the market con- 
 stable, "were arrested by me on a charge of 
 extreme cruelty to animals." 
 
 "What kind of animals?" queried the 
 magistrate. 
 
 " Pigs." 
 
 A general laugh followed the constable's 
 laconic explanation, while the Assistant Land- 
 drost, without a change of countenance, bade the 
 constable proceed with his charge. 
 
 " They brought eight pigs into market this 
 morning, in a pitiable condition. The poor
 
 THE LANDDROST HOLDS COURT 259 
 
 animals were bound together by a reim tied 
 tightly round their legs. When they were 
 thrown out of the waggon, I found that their 
 hoofs had rotted off from the tightness of the 
 reims, and their legs were full of sores and 
 maggots." 
 
 " Where did the coolies get the animals ? " 
 said the magistrate to a Moslem who acted as 
 interpreter for the men. 
 
 " They bought them at a farm." 
 
 " How many days since ?" 
 
 After a parley with the coolies the interpreter 
 replied 
 
 " Eight days ago." 
 
 " Which is the owner of the animals ? " 
 
 Again a consultation occurred, and the inter- 
 preter answered 
 
 " Kissimsing." 
 
 "He is fined five pounds or a month's 
 imprisonment. And you, constable, have the 
 poor animals put out of torture immediately." 
 
 The coolie sullenly paid his fine, and then 
 left the room with his companions, in an 
 apparently excited debate with the interpreter, 
 upon whom they fell, once clear of the court, 
 with kicks and blows as a reward for his non- 
 success. 
 
 The next prisoner to appear was Jim, a
 
 260 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 Kafir, charged with assaulting his brother in? 
 darkness, Tim. 
 
 "So it is you again, Jim," said the magistrate,, 
 glancing at the big Zulu before him, whose 
 genial face broadened into a delighted grin at 
 the Assistant Landdrost's recognition. " Well, 
 what have you to say ? " 
 
 " Good morning, Baas ; I hope you are 
 very well," replied Jim, in excellent Dutch. " I 
 hope you won't be hard on me this time, Baas." 
 
 " Go on," said the Assistant Landdrost, while 
 a twinkle crept into his brown eyes. The 
 Zulu's Dutch seemed to please him immensely. 
 
 " Yah, Baas, I thrashed that low dog, Tim, 
 because he insulted me." 
 
 " Insulted you ? " 
 
 " Just so, Baas. I was at Fillis' with my 
 chums last night, Baas, doing nothing, but 
 quietly looking at the lions, when this here 
 fellow Tim and another chap come along and 
 called out to me, ' Who's your father ? ' 
 
 At this speech, given with a comical attempt 
 at dramatic effect, a storm of merriment swept 
 over the court, drowning the voice of the Zulu, 
 who joined in the laughter, and even went to 
 the length of winking at the Kafir police, who 
 forgot their dignity for the time, and were 
 giving vent to boisterous guffaws.
 
 THE LANDDROST HOLDS COURT 261 
 
 " Yah, Baas," continued Jim, when order was 
 restored, " that low-born Kafir Tim called out, 
 ' Who's your father ? ' And that's a mighty 
 bad insult to a Zulu ; it is, Baas, the biggest 
 insult you could throw in a well-born Zulu's 
 teeth. So I called back, ' Who's yours ? ' 
 And then that low-born Tim ' 'saulted ' me, 
 and I tried to save my life by sawing at his 
 throat with a piece of iron I had in my hand. 
 He nearly killed me, Baas, and I was trying 
 to save my life, that's the almighty truth, 
 Baas." 
 
 " It's an almighty lie, Baas," roared Tim. 
 "That Kafir ain't no Zulu. He's a Cape 
 nigger." 
 
 " Silence ! " thundered the magistrate. " Now, 
 constable, give me the truth of this affair." 
 
 "Jim and his chum there were looking at 
 the animals when Tim and another Kafir came 
 up and called out something in Zulu to Jim, 
 whereupon Jim's chum ran away, while Jim 
 and Tim clinched. In a few minutes Jim's pal 
 returned with two other Kafirs, and they all set 
 upon Tim to beat him. There was such a row. 
 The lions and tigers began to roar, and even 
 the little elephant bellowed." 
 
 " So, Jim," said the Assistant Landdrost, 
 sternly, "you created a terrible disturbance. 
 
 s
 
 262 " THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 As I am not acquainted with Kafir folk-lore 
 sufficiently to appreciate your defence, I shall 
 fine you three pounds or fifteen lashes for 
 breaking the peace." 
 
 ." Thank you, Baas," replied Jim, with a grin. 
 4 ' I'll take the fifteen lashes." 
 
 When a few more petty cases had been heard, 
 and justice dealt out for various offences in the 
 form of lashes and fines, not the least of which 
 was attempted gaol - breaking and drunken 
 assault, the Assistant Landdrost, after carefully 
 sorting the papers on the desk before him, 
 glanced several times from the clock to the 
 door at which the prisoners appeared. 
 
 He was evidently waiting for some case, so 
 also was the court. 
 
 A hush of expectancy fell over the crowd, 
 which was no ordinary one. The rows of 
 expectant faces were not those of the regular 
 kabituds, grimy, dissipated - looking reporters 
 and idle loungers. There was an air of re- 
 spectability which rarely appeared in the every- 
 day session of the stuffy little chamber. Among 
 the crowd the quick eye of the Assistant 
 Landdrost singled out the smiling face of a 
 woman here and there, charming, pretty faces, 
 the most prominent therein being the saucy, 
 self-conscious phiz of a popular barmaid, and
 
 THE LANDDROST HOLDS COURT 263 
 
 the dark-eyed, brilliant beauty of an equally 
 popular actress ; while away in a corner between 
 the ledge of two windows, the round little 
 bonnet, dainty cap and strings framing a 
 sweetly pretty countenance, proclaimed that 
 some gentle hospital nurse had braved the 
 stifling publicity of the court. 
 
 The sight of these women, every one of 
 whom was young and pretty, made the sus- 
 ceptible heart of the big Boer, in the seat of 
 justice on the little rostrum, throb a trifle 
 quicker ; for being a true Boer of the good old- 
 fashioned sort, he had a decided weakness for 
 feminine beauty, whether fair like the lily or 
 tinged with the dusky hue of the damask rose. 
 Consequently he straightened himself up a bit, 
 gently stroking his bushy beard with one hand, 
 while the other was complacently tucked away in 
 the pocket of his commodious broadcloth waist- 
 coat. To appear interested would have been 
 beneath the dignity of his position, therefore he 
 straightway became 'restlessly conscious, the 
 usual resource of too susceptible men when in 
 the presence of an overpowering femininity. 
 
 The presence of so many ladies in the court 
 that morning, where the fair portion of the 
 Johannesburg community rarely appeared, even 
 in the character of witnesses, much less com-
 
 264 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 plainant or defendant, precluded some event of 
 more than passing interest. In fact, it was the 
 day of the Great Reef murder trial, when the 
 five Kafirs were to answer the charge. Rumours 
 had been flying broadcast to the effect that one 
 of the Kafirs had turned State's evidence, in 
 consequence of which a crowd assailed the 
 primitive temple of justice long before the 
 doors were open, filling every inch of the broad 
 wooden verandah, the railing in front, and even 
 the window-ledges ; where a host of venture- 
 some Boer urchins had perched themselves for 
 a peep from without at the proceedings within, 
 if nothing better could be done. 
 
 The doors once opened, a rude but good- 
 humoured throng took possession of every inch 
 of space available ; policemen swore, reporters 
 protested, and women pleaded prettily for a 
 place, just as at the Old Bailey or any other 
 court where the awful fascination of a murder 
 trial draws the crowd. 
 
 There must be some peculiarly innate love of 
 cruelty or crime in the woman who can find 
 pleasure in watching the silent throes of the un- 
 fortunate creature doomed to endure the slow 
 torture of the condemned dock. Women who 
 would scream at the sight of a harmless mouse, 
 or faint at the idea of looking under the bed for
 
 THE LANDDROST HOLDS COURT 265 
 
 a burglar, or shrink from walking a block alone, 
 after dark, lose all their affectation of delicacy 
 and faint-heartedness at the prospect of gazing 
 securely at the face of the perpetrator of crime, 
 well guarded by the environs of the law like some 
 captive beast ; they gloat over every sickening 
 detail, and crane their pretty necks for a good 
 look at the ashy countenance of the condemned, 
 when the black-capped judge commends the 
 tortured soul to God's mercy. 
 
 It is usually the timid women, well-nourished, 
 well-bred, the society woman, and her sister, the 
 society actress, whose delicate sensibilities can 
 withstand the shock of such scenes. Brave, 
 tender-hearted women, women who have faced 
 the stormy side of life, the workers and thinkers, 
 have no desire to look on such scenes, unless it 
 be in the cause of mercy ; and that, every true 
 woman must feel, is not for the tribunal of jus- 
 tice ; the fitting place for her mission of allevia- 
 tion is the solitude of the condemned cell, not 
 the public dock. 
 
 Man is far more merciful in the administra- 
 tion of justice than ever woman could be. The 
 man can be just, without being cruel ; but 
 woman, with her more highly-strung tempera- 
 ment, quick sensibility, and complex hysterical 
 nature, becomes a perfectly merciless virago the
 
 266 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 moment her slender hand touches the scales of 
 justice. That she plays the mischief with those 
 scales, and vanquishes all balance, is a fact that 
 almost every epoch of history can verify. 
 
 Idleness is said to be the mother of crime, and 
 luxury is certainly the lover of vice. The two 
 combined give to the world the class of women 
 who possess that morbid appetite which enables 
 them to coolly partake of their lunch of sand- 
 wiches, and imbibe sherry, while waiting for 
 a jury to pronounce the fatal verdict. The 
 creeping sensation of pleasure, the shiver of 
 horror at the sight of the dumb, helpless agony 
 of a fellow-creature's misery, is to them the 
 very acme of harrowing enjoyment. They 
 should be belled out of court, such women, and 
 be no more allowed to preside at the reading 
 of the death sentence than they should be per- 
 mitted to assist at the hanging of the wretched 
 victim. 
 
 To the crowd in the little court the wait of a 
 quarter of an hour seemed very long. Every- 
 one was growing impatient ; even the placidity 
 of the Assistant Landdrost began to waver ; 
 when a noise of wheels, followed by the shuffling 
 of heavy feet, was heard outside ; and the eyes 
 of the expectant rabble were soon gladdened by 
 the sight of the prisoners, as they were ushered
 
 THE LANDDROST HOLDS COURT 267 
 
 in one by one, each under the care of a brace 
 of policemen. 
 
 Five more wretched-looking men could not 
 have been found in all the Transvaal that day 
 than the prisoners as they stood in the dock. 
 
 Dick, the old Zulu, held his head up and 
 looked straight before him over the heads of the 
 people through the wide open door, where the 
 crowd pressed thickest, into the sunlit street, 
 with the helpless, miserable pain of lost liberty 
 tugging at his heart. 
 
 There was no one in all that court who real- 
 ised more fully the heinousness of his crime, 
 and knew the certain death awaiting him, than 
 did the old man himself. He knew the utter 
 helplessness of pleading that he had been mad 
 with the frenzy of drink when the awful crime was 
 committed. He knew he had been a coward. 
 No word that he could call himself in his utter 
 abasement was too vile. He had murdered un- 
 knowingly, unwittingly, in a delirious paroxysm, 
 a man who had been to him, the black man, a 
 kind and generous friend; who had many times 
 spoken words of wonderful import to him ; who 
 had told him of a beautiful faith that would 
 regenerate the poor despised negro ; who had 
 offered to lead him to the very throne of the 
 God whom he adored. And this gentle, noble-
 
 268 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 hearted friend was the man whom he had foully 
 done to death. 
 
 His eye-balls burned with the red film of un- 
 shed tears, his whole body racked and throbbed 
 with pain, as he thought over all the doings of 
 that fatal night. But through all his misery he 
 was dumb ; no word of defence or protest had 
 fallen from his lips. While his gaolers declared 
 him the most hardened and dangerous of all 
 the prisoners, they feared his silence, they 
 trembled for their lives in his presence. A half 
 dozen of them had bound him to the cot on 
 which he slept in the gaol, and tied with extra 
 ropes his great brawny hands as they led him 
 into court. 
 
 Lohia, Jim, Jan, and Charley looked pitiable 
 enough as they were seated, trembling in every 
 limb, with hanging lips and rolling eyes. Their 
 frightened faces elicited jeers and scoffs from 
 the crowd until the Assistant Landdrost raised 
 his hand commanding silence, as the court pro- 
 ceedings were about to begin. 
 
 The first witness sworn was an uncle of the 
 murdered man. He gave his testimony briefly, 
 but with much emotion. 
 
 The deceased, he said, had left for town 
 on Sunday afternoon, the 8th inst., at about 
 two o'clock, saying he was going to see some
 
 THE LANDDROST HOLDS COURT 269 
 
 friends, and also to church, and would return 
 about half-past nine. On the Monday morning 
 a man came down to where he was working, 
 and told him that a white man in a state of 
 nudity was lying in one of the cuttings of the 
 Great Reef property. Witness then went up, 
 and to his horror found that it was the body of 
 his nephew. 
 
 The witness then identified the clothing of 
 the deceased, which was produced. 
 
 A carpenter who worked at the mine was 
 then sworn. He said that the dead man occu- 
 pied the same room with him. He remembered 
 the deceased leaving for town on Sunday after- 
 noon, as he had asked him for the loan of his 
 watch. Witness asked him if he would come 
 in later, and they would return to the compound 
 together in the evening. He said he could not 
 promise, and he did not go into town. On 
 Monday morning witness saw the corpse lying 
 naked near the boundary of the Langlaagte 
 property. The body was horribly mutilated. 
 He identified the watch, hat, and coat as the 
 property of the deceased. 
 
 A physician being sworn, said : " I am 
 Acting District - Surgeon. On Monday, the 
 9th inst, I went out to see the body of a white 
 man, who it was stated had been murdered. I
 
 2 ;o THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 found the body in a state of nudity, lying in a 
 deep cutting. The body was much mutilated. 
 The head was covered with blood, so much so 
 that it had to be washed before it could be 
 examined. On the back of the head there was 
 an open wound, two and a half inches long, 
 laying bare the skull. On the top of the head 
 there was another wound, two and a half inches 
 long by one and a half inches wide. On the 
 left side of the forehead there were two severe 
 bruises. The throat was cut from ear to ear, 
 and there were also two gashes on the side of 
 the neck. The body had been ripped from the 
 neck to the lower part of the abdomen. Several 
 holes had been pierced through the side of the 
 body, one of which had entered the lung. The 
 cause of death was due to the blows on the 
 head, accelerated by the cutting open of the 
 abdomen. Several parts of the body were 
 missing." 
 
 An engine-driver at a neighbouring mine 
 testified that on Sunday evening, the 8th inst, 
 he accompanied the deceased to the Wesleyan 
 Church, and afterwards to a boarding-house^ 
 where they remained a short time. They 
 walked in the direction of the Salvation Army. 
 Witness left the deceased, as he was going 
 home to the Langlaagte. This was about
 
 THE LANDDROST HOLDS COURT 271 
 
 half-past nine in the evening. Deceased 
 carried a stick. 
 
 Another witness said that he was engaged in 
 laying the train at the Great Reef Mine. He 
 knew the accused, Charley, who worked at the 
 mine. On Sunday evening witness went to 
 look for Charley, but could not find him any- 
 where. He then went to bed at the eating- 
 house. And about one o'clock Charley returned 
 and went to sleep in the next room. The next 
 day he appeared restless, and did not attend to 
 his work. When witness found out that Charley 
 was to be arrested, he told him so, and he be- 
 came very frightened and restless. 
 
 The compound manager being sworn, said he 
 knew all the accused, who, with the exception 
 of Charley, all shared one hut. On Monday a 
 Kafir came to the property carrying a stick in 
 his hand. As soon as Charley saw the stick he 
 said, " There's the stick ! " But, being interro- 
 gated, would not give any further information. 
 
 The next witness, a young Kafir, was sworn. 
 He gave his name as Andries, and said that he 
 had arrived from Natal a few ^days before the 
 murder. The day after the murder he met 
 Dick, who offered to sell him a watch for four 
 pounds. Suspecting it was the dead man's 
 property, he sought out a detective, and told
 
 272 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 him of the occurrence. They then went back, 
 and witness called Dick, who offered the watch 
 for sale. The detective arrested Dick, and 
 later on the rest of the boys were taken in 
 charge. 
 
 The detective's story was heard with breath- 
 less attention by the throng of horror-lovers in 
 court. After being sworn, he gave a graphic 
 account of the finding of the murdered man's 
 wearing apparel, the arrest of the boys, and 
 other details of the terrible affair. 
 
 " On Monday morning, the Qth inst.," he 
 began, " it was reported to me that a man was 
 lying murdered at Langlaagte. I went there, 
 and found the body of the deceased. There 
 was nothing on the poor fellow but the wrist- 
 bands of his shirt, and his mutilated body was 
 a fearful sight. Lying there at the bottom of 
 the sluit, it turned my very heart sick to look at 
 it. I went away and set to work at once to 
 trace the whereabouts of the murderers or mur- 
 derer. I soon found out the occupation of the 
 deceased, and got a description of the clothes 
 
 he had worn when last seen alive, and the 
 
 
 
 valuables he possessed. On the Thursday 
 following I got a clue from a canteen-keeper, 
 who told me a Kafir in the employ of the 
 Great Reef Company had been seen offering a
 
 THE LANDDROST HOLDS COURT 273 
 
 watch for sale. I got Andries to go and buy 
 the watch, and bring the Kafir to me. He did 
 so, and I found the watch and chain answered 
 the description given to me. I asked the Kafir, 
 whose name is Dick, how much he wanted for 
 the watch, and he said he would take four 
 pounds, as the watch was his, and he wanted 
 the money to go to his kraal. I then took him 
 into a room in my shanty, and questioned him 
 closely as to where he got the watch. At first 
 he said it was in the brickfields ; but after a lot 
 of talking and coaxing, he owned up that he 
 stole it and some clothes from a white man 
 that he and the boys had killed on Sunday. I 
 cautioned him in the usual way, and asked him 
 the names of the boys. The old boy seemed 
 much cut up over what had occurred. He 
 swore that he and the rest were drunk, and did 
 not know it was poor Clark they were murdering, 
 who had always been a good friend to all the 
 boys. Finally I got him to tell the names of 
 the boys ; and then I went to the compound. 
 Just as I was going in at the door I saw 
 Lohia, but as soon as he saw me he ran off to 
 his hut. I followed and arrested him. Jan was 
 pointed out to me ; and, pointing to Sam, Lohia 
 said, 'There's another.' Sam cleared, and I 
 could not catch him at that time. Jan pointed
 
 274 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 out Jem, who was very drunk and seemed to 
 enjoy seeing the others run in. I went into town 
 with the man, and offered a sovereign to whoever 
 would bring me Sam. When I put my prisoners 
 up in gaol, I returned to the mine and searched 
 the hut of the boys. In a bag belonging to 
 Dick I found the coat and vest belonging to 
 the murdered man. In Sam's bag I found the 
 trousers, and under the blankets the murdered 
 man's boots. I found the hat and boots of the 
 deceased concealed under two pieces of ant- 
 heap, close to the spot where the body was 
 lying. The trousers of Dick and Lohia were 
 thickly spotted with blood. After Dick had 
 made his confession to me he gave up the knife 
 with which he had done the deed. Andries 
 interpreted between Dick and myself; but I, 
 too, understand and speak Zulu." 
 
 Booy, a native, being sworn, stated that he 
 worked on the Great Reef property, and knew 
 the prisoners well. They, the Kafirs, eat at 
 sundown ; but on Sunday evening the prisoners 
 did not eat there. They did not work on 
 Monday. The prisoners were great friends, 
 and were always together. 
 
 Hans, the canteen-keeper's black assistant, 
 said the prisoners had come to the bar at nine 
 o'clock that Sunday night ; but as they were
 
 THE LANDDROST HOLDS COURT 275 
 
 already very drunk, the Baas would not sell 
 them any more brandy. The boy gave his 
 evidence in a state of great trepidation, for the 
 beady black eyes of the canteen-keeper were 
 riveted on him from his post at the back of the 
 court, and he dared not give the lie to the 
 evidence of his cruel master, who had sworn 
 that the Kafirs got no drink at his place that 
 night. 
 
 And now the sensation so eagerly looked 
 forward to occurred. The youngest of the 
 five prisoners arose, at the bidding of the court, 
 and gave his evidence for the State. 
 
 The story was heard with bated breath ; for 
 the young Zulu described with pathetic dra- 
 matic effect the details of the murder and the 
 drunken bout preceding the fatal night. A 
 shudder ran through the crowd, and a storm of 
 hisses, oaths, and imprecations arose from the 
 crowd when the trial was declared over. 
 
 As the prisoners were about to be led away, 
 a rush was made for them by the angry mob ; 
 but a posse of sturdy policemen held the crowd 
 back. Outside an awful scene occurred, when 
 the prisoners, thrown one after the other into 
 a heavy cart, were bound to the bottom like 
 so many cattle. 
 
 The burly canteen-keeper drew near to
 
 276 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 watch the process of binding. When the old 
 Zulu caught sight of the wicked face, gloating 
 with a leer of delight at the spectacle, he 
 swung himself loose from the police, and with 
 one bound was at the throat of the seller of 
 vile whisky. 
 
 So sudden was the attack that, for an instant, 
 the police were paralysed with astonishment. 
 The next moment they tore the maddened Zulu 
 from the prostrate body of the canteen-keeper, 
 and felled him with blows to the earth ; then 
 they bound and lashed the unconscious prisoner 
 to the waggon, and dashed away amidst the 
 howls of the excited crowd through the town, 
 and on over the hill, in the direction of Pre- 
 toria. 
 
 Once on the road, they never slackened 
 speed, until a few hours later the waggon and 
 its burden drew rein before the Pretoria gaol, 
 where the prisoners, more dead than alive with 
 fright and exhaustion, were to await their final 
 trial and punishment.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 KING FEVER THE AVENGER 
 
 CAPTAIN ARCHIBALD ACHILLES lay dying in one 
 of the little rooms of the Nurses' Home. The 
 gaunt hand of deadly typhoid had smitten him 
 down in spite of his splendid physique and gay, 
 reckless spirits. The hot fingers of the cruel 
 fever bound, as in an iron vice, his throbbing 
 temples, drained his aching body of every 
 vestige of strength, and swamped his vitality in 
 the stream of cold perspiration oozing from 
 every pore. 
 
 Yes, Captain Archie the popular cricketer, 
 the favourite originator of many an amateur 
 theatrical success, the greatest heart-breaker of 
 the camp, from barmaid to nurse, as unscrupu- 
 lous with women as he was dishonest with men 
 was dying, and dying as many another of his 
 countrymen, fine, robust Englishmen too, were 
 dying around him, far from the sweet, whole- 
 some air of merrie England. 
 
 o 
 
 The mutter ings of the dying man, as he 
 
 T
 
 278 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 fought for life with the deadly fever, were the 
 only sound in that little chamber, where the 
 young nurse moved noiselessly about, per- 
 forming her duties of the sick room. The 
 silent watcher by the bedside stirred neither 
 hand nor foot, as he sat with bowed head 
 listening to the laboured breathing and delirious 
 talk of his stricken friend. 
 
 For hours Hector had sat by that bed, till he 
 was numbed and dazed with watching, until he 
 almost envied the unconscious state of the 
 dying man. A great change had come over 
 Hector. Grief at the flight of Ariadne, com- 
 bined with the effects of the dissipation in which 
 he had sought forgetfulness of her cruel and 
 inexplicable conduct, had wrought sad havoc in 
 his handsome face, now drawn and haggard, the 
 eyes dull and bloodshot, the golden moustache 
 drooping and unkempt, while the hands sup- 
 porting his bowed head were weak and tremu- 
 lous with the excesses of the past weeks. 
 
 Those who have stood guard over the bed- 
 side of the dying, can alone know the wearying 
 strain of patient waiting for that last struggle 
 which no word can cheer, nor caress alleviate. 
 It is the saddest duty we can ever perform for 
 those near and dear to us, a duty which brings 
 no consolation, since it brings no hope, which
 
 KING FEVER THE AVENGER 279 
 
 elicits no thanks or meed of gratitude from 
 friend, foe, or beloved one, when once stricken 
 with the impassive indifference of death. 
 
 There had been a strange coolness between 
 the men, for what reason Hector could never 
 clearly define. But when the captain was 
 stricken down as by a flash of lightning with 
 the fever, his last conscious word was an 
 urgent request for Hector. That had been 
 some days ago, and Hector had watched in- 
 cessantly by his side ; but he had never re- 
 gained consciousness. 
 
 " And now," thought Hector, sadly, " the 
 poor boy will go without one word of fare- 
 well or message for the mater and home so far 
 away." 
 
 The nurse entered the little room, adjusted 
 the night-lamp, and then glided to Hector's 
 side. She touched him lightly on the shoulder, 
 saying, " I shall be within call, should he grow 
 worse." 
 
 When she had gone, he arose from his place 
 beside the bed, and stood at the foot, gazing at 
 the dying man. His mutterings had ceased, or 
 were so faint that they could not reach Hector's 
 ear. 
 
 A long bar of yellow moonlight spread its 
 luminous length across the room and over the
 
 280 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 bed, shining on the coverlet, which the sick 
 man clutched in his trembling fingers. 
 
 The pale golden light seemed to disturb 
 him in some mysterious manner, for the hands 
 on which it shone began to grasp helplessly 
 at some unseen object, while with laboured 
 breathing he strove to raise himself in the 
 bed. 
 
 Seeing the disquieting influence of the moon- 
 light on the dying man, Hector went softly to 
 the window and gently drew the curtain partly 
 over it, shutting out the moonlight. In a few 
 moments he ceased his restless movements, and 
 lay quite still. 
 
 Hector remained in his place by the window, 
 half concealed in the folds of the portiere curtain. 
 A hot air filled with a peculiar odour, half sickly, 
 half pungent, was wafted through the open 
 window. Hector shivered slightly, he knew the 
 odour well ; it came from a shadowy procession 
 of carts drawn by Kafirs passing along the road- 
 way a slight distance away. He watched the 
 procession file slowly past, until it was lost to 
 view as it turned with the road round a low 
 kopje. Then he let his gaze rove over the 
 scene before him. 
 
 The Nurses' Home stood, like a monument 
 of woman's gentle care and noble self-sacrifice,
 
 KING FEVER THE AVENGER 281 
 
 on a low hill overlooking Doornfontein and 
 Johannesburg. He could see from the window 
 the whole wonderful town at his feet. The view 
 was one of weird, indescribable beauty, as diffi- 
 cult to imagine, by one who has never seen it, 
 as it is difficult to describe ; for, there is in 
 the African moonlight a nameless charm, half 
 melancholy, half mystical, which gilds with an 
 almost spiritual beauty the most commonplace 
 objects. 
 
 It is a mellow, golden, dream-like moonlight, 
 as unlike the cold glittering moonshine of the 
 north as silver is to gold ; a moonlight which 
 has a hush in it that is holy ; a moonlight 
 which seems to charge the very atmosphere 
 with its magnetic silence ; in which the harshest 
 voice falls soft as the ring of a distant bell upon 
 the ear, and the very ugliness of man and 
 beast becomes transformed into beauty, albeit 
 grotesque, in that sacred light. There is no 
 land on all God's gracious earth that embodies 
 so perfectly supreme rest, suspense from labour, 
 the oblivion of sleep, as the heavenly calm of a 
 moonlight night in South Africa. 
 
 Hector leaned far out upon the window-sill ; 
 the slight shiver running up and down his 
 back gave place to a glow which seemed to 
 mount to his head and fill him with a delicious
 
 282 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 dreaminess : he forgot Archie, he longed only 
 for sleep ; but the scene before him, now 
 transglorified to his fever-smitten eyes, held him 
 in thrall. 
 
 The thousand roofs of unpainted zinc gleamed 
 like a mine of opals in the warm moon rays. 
 
 Far away the low outline of the distant kopjes 
 seemed bathed .in a pale blue vapour like the 
 haze of the ocean. 
 
 The shafts, clear to his practised eyes, of 
 mine and^battery arose like the phantom masts 
 of ship and barque in ghostly array against the 
 distant blue of the imaginary sea. 
 
 Suddenly, far away, he caught the sight of 
 Devonshire hills round the placid waters of a 
 gleaming lake, on whose banks rose a quaint, 
 rambling old mansion. 
 
 With a cry he stretched forth his arms ; but 
 the scene was gone : and he knew that glimpse 
 of his beautiful English home was a vision 
 woven by the mirage of the midnight moon. 
 
 Beneath the window stretched a garden, 
 whose blooming beauty had been planted and 
 tended by the hands of the lady nurses. As his 
 eyes rested upon it, the roses and tulips seemed 
 to change to the familiar faces of far-away 
 friends, as they nodded their uplifted heads in 
 the warm night-breeze.
 
 KING FEVER THE AVENGER 283 
 
 A great gaunt Kafir dog strolled along the 
 garden path, his black body shining like satin 
 in the mellow light. He walked on his own 
 shadow, cast beneath him by the moon, now 
 full in the meridian of the heavens, where she 
 hung for a few moments apparently stationary. 
 Hector watched, with eyes that began to burn 
 strangely, the shadow of the dog slowly pass 
 from under his body, and lengthen along the 
 path behind him. 
 
 Once the lonely animal stopped, and stared 
 up at Hector with great white eyes, then raised 
 its head and gave vent to a prolonged, melan- 
 choly bay. Hector shuddered, and then waved 
 the dog away. The gesture seemed to frighten 
 the animal, for he turned and sped towards the 
 roadway, clearing the low fence in a bound, and 
 was off. 
 
 Then Hector's gaze rested drowsily on the 
 flowers ; but the roses looked no longer up to 
 him ; the tulips hung their heads as though 
 bent by the burden of a passing wind. The 
 moonlight seemed to be swallowed up in an 
 approaching darkness ; the garden beneath, the 
 town lying beyond, seemed revolving in a 
 vapouring mist ; and he was fast succumbing 
 to unconsciousness when every sense was
 
 284 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 aroused to alertness by the sound of the dying 
 man's voice calling in hoarse tones 
 . "Ariadne!" 
 
 It was the first time in all those days and 
 nights of watching that Hector had heard that 
 name on his lips. 
 
 " Ariadne," he called again, this time in 
 stronger tones, " Ariadne, you must hear me ! 
 I'm leaving the Rand for ever. I cannot go 
 without you. Come with me, Ariadne, come 
 come " 
 
 The last words floated away in a whisper, 
 but Hector's ear, strained by excitement, caught 
 them distinctly as he approached the bed, 
 dazed and staggered by the shock of the 
 revelation made by the raving of the dying 
 man. 
 
 " So it was true, after all," muttered Hector. 
 " He did love her. Oh, Archie, Archie, why 
 did you deceive me ? " 
 
 Then the poor fellow sank on the chair by 
 the bed and began to weep childishly ; worn 
 out with watching and weakened by the fever, 
 which had already fastened its fangs in his 
 brain, and poured its poison in his blood. He 
 wept feebly. Had he not loved this man with 
 more than the love of a brother? And that this 
 man of all men should have coveted the woman
 
 KING FEVER THE AVENGER 285 
 
 he loved ; coveted her while he cloaked his 
 real feelings in a semblance of distrust and 
 contempt for her ! It was too much for 
 Hector's weakened nerves. He could only 
 find relief in hysterical tears. 
 
 Suddenly the stupor into which the unusual 
 state of tears had reduced him was dispelled 
 by the renewed ravings of the captain. At 
 first his words were jumbled and indistinct, 
 but gradually their real meaning was caught 
 by Hector, who started from his seat with a 
 rage he could not control, as the voice from the 
 bed cried passionately 
 
 " I lied about Hector I lied lied. For- 
 give me, it was through love for you 
 Ariadne love for you. I lied when I told 
 you when I said Hector Hector was married 
 -Hector " 
 
 The last word died in a gurling sound as 
 Hector seized the dying man by the throat. 
 
 " Scoundrel," he gasped, frenzied by fever 
 and rage, " you drove her away ! Wake up ! 
 no shamming. You're no more dying than I 
 am. Get up. Let us fight it out like men. 
 The one who lives shall marry her." 
 
 It was an awful sight that met the eyes of 
 the frightened nurses as they rushed into the
 
 286 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 room, drawn thither by the sound of the 
 struggle. Hector had dragged Archie out of 
 the bed, and the two were locked in each 
 other's arms in a desperate embrace. All at 
 once Hector's grasp relaxed, and he fell in- 
 sensible on the floor. 
 
 As the doctor and the nurses laid Archie in 
 the bed, he seemed to regain consciousness 
 for a moment. 
 
 " I have told Hector at last," he whispered 
 faintly. "He said the one who lived should 
 marry her. Tell him I couldn't help myself. 
 I loved her." 
 
 Then he relapsed into unconsciousness. 
 
 "He has collapsed," said the doctor, as he felt 
 his pulse. "He will not regain consciousness 
 again, but pass away quietly in that state." 
 
 But the doctor was mistaken ; for an hour 
 after, when Hector had been removed raving 
 and fighting in the delirious struggles of high 
 fever, Archie opened his eyes and looked at the 
 nurse seated in Hector's place by his bed. 
 
 " Tell Hector," he said faintly, so faintly 
 that the young nurse had to put her little ear 
 close to his lips, "tell Hector I could not help 
 it. Tell him to forgive me when I'm gone." 
 
 The nurse nodded her pretty head while she 
 wiped away her tears.
 
 KING FEVER THE AVENGER 287 
 
 Then he closed his eyes. 
 
 The next day the Johannesburg papers 
 chronicled the untimely death of Captain 
 Archibald Achilles, the popular cricketer ; and 
 also imparted the sad news of the expected 
 death of Hector, who had been stricken down 
 by fever, through devotion to his dying friend.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND 
 
 IT was a glorious evening at sea ; the sun was 
 setting in a blaze of fiery cloud and seething 
 waters on one side, while on the other the 
 pearly disc of the full moon slowly arose out 
 of the purple waves, tipping their heaving 
 crests with her sparkling beams, and flooding 
 the darkness with silvery mist. 
 
 Between the rising and setting light, the 
 dark form of the Garth Castle loomed up, 
 gallantly ploughing her way in the wake of the 
 sun, leaving behind her a snowy trail of foam, 
 as she sped on her restless course towards that 
 distant land behind whose shores the sun was 
 sinking. 
 
 On board the Garth affairs were settling into 
 the usual routine of life aboard ship. She had 
 steamed out of the breakwater as the evening 
 shadows were descending on Cape Town five 
 days before. Her passengers were growing 
 accustomed to the sea, and already forming
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND 289 
 
 projects for the entertainment of each other 
 during the voyage. 
 
 Two women were alone on the hurricane 
 deck. One was leaning against the guards ; 
 her tall figure and auburn hair, tinged by the 
 rays of the sunset, appeared positively re- 
 splendent in the rosy glow. The other was 
 reclining in a steamer chair, carefully wrapped 
 in a kaross, from which looked up the wan face 
 and pale lips of Ariadne. 
 
 " Kathleen," she was saying in a voice the 
 mere echo of her once gay ringing tones, " how 
 charming you look in that light ! The sun gilds 
 your white gown, blue cloak, and dear red head 
 with such a lovely tint that you look as pretty as 
 a picture." 
 
 "Thank you," answered her sister, with a 
 little laugh. " I'm glad your good old Kathleen 
 looks pretty once in a while." 
 
 " I shall never wear white again," said 
 Ariadne, sadly, as she brushed her hands across 
 her eyes. 
 
 " Come, come, you must remember your pro- 
 mise," said Kathleen, drawing a camp-stool near, 
 and sitting beside her. "No more grieving." 
 
 " I know it, but I can't do it yet. I must 
 give way now and then. Don't be cross 
 with me."
 
 290 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 "No, my darling," said Kathleen, tenderly, 
 " I won't reproach you. I'll help you all I can 
 to forget." 
 
 " Will you not try to come down to dinner ? " 
 she said, after a pause. " The sight of all 
 those new faces will interest and amuse you. 
 Do come ! " 
 
 " Don't ask me to-night," said Ariadne, 
 pleadingly. " Just have patience one day 
 longer ; then I will go with you. Oh ! I 
 cannot bear it yet." 
 
 "There, there!" interrupted Kathleen, sooth- 
 ingly, "I'll wait. But you will be amused. We 
 have quite a set of mashers at our table. They 
 even attempt their blandishments on me, your 
 staid old Kathleen. But I see them looking at 
 your empty place, and I know they resent your 
 absence. The captain is such a dear I have 
 almost lost my heart to him. And there is 
 a handsome German from Durban who looks 
 after me very kindly. He politely offers me a 
 glass of champagne regularly now at dessert." 
 
 " Does he ? " said Ariadne. "How kind of 
 him ! I am sure I shall like him." 
 
 " I know you will," resumed Kathleen. 
 " Then there is a splendid-looking, weather- 
 beaten old officer ; he is a perfect giant ; 
 such a grand head and soft beautiful brown
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND 291 
 
 eyes oh ! " broke off Kathleen, with a pro- 
 longed sigh. 
 
 " Why, sister," exclaimed Ariadne, with a faint 
 laugh, " you are growing positively eloquent. 
 Go on ; this is getting interesting." 
 
 " There is another officer ; he sits at the end 
 of the table opposite my nice German ; but," 
 said Kathleen, impressively, "he is not like the 
 old general, he is the courteous old school type ; 
 but this young officer is, well, dreadful; he slangs 
 at the captain and every one else. Last night 
 he roared out to some one at the doctor's table, 
 ' There's no flies at this table.' Now, Ariadne, 
 what do you think he could mean by such an 
 idiotic remark ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I cannot understand," said Ariadne, 
 laughing outright at her sister's solemn tone ; 
 "but I should think he was an original." 
 
 " He is decidedly ; but as he has just returned 
 from Matabeleland, I have no doubt he has 
 still a touch of the fever ; hence his wild 
 careering on deck, and fondness for baking 
 himself in the sun. I don't think he saw 
 much service in Africa, consequently he is 
 undergoing a process of tanning his face and 
 hands in order to appear the proper hue when 
 we get to Plymouth." 
 
 " Kathleen, you will become a confirmed
 
 292 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 cynic, if I do not get strong soon, and look 
 after you." 
 
 "Oh, the M.P. who sits next to me will do 
 that ; he is full of kindly excuses for the irre- 
 pressible young captain, who is no doubt a very 
 good sort of soldier after all." 
 
 " No doubt," said Ariadne, " but I hope he 
 won't subside till I am able to go down. I like 
 to be amused." 
 
 " You will find plenty of that, dear, in the 
 antics of a tall, thin young man who has the foot 
 of the table." 
 
 " Indeed ; what is his peculiarity ? " 
 
 " Well, he has a fad for giving dinners on 
 his own account at one of the unoccupied tables 
 in the corner. What pleasure he can see in it I 
 don't know, unless it is to get a lot of men 
 round him and see them drink all he can pay 
 for. He does me one service he takes his 
 disagreeable face away and rids us of the slang 
 of our young captain from Matabeleland. I 
 regain my appetite then." 
 
 " Poor Kathleen," said Ariadne, laughing. 
 
 " The M. P. tells me it is against the rules 
 to give private dinners on board, but as the 
 bilious young man is a shipping clerk for the 
 Company he takes advantage. The M.P. 
 declares that no such goings on as these are 
 allowed on board the Tartar"
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND 293 
 
 " And the German ?" said Ariadne. 
 
 " Oh, he is not led away by that set ; al- 
 though they chaff him dreadfully, he always 
 remains with us. Now I wonder if he thinks 
 I would miss that glass of champagne at 
 dessert ? " 
 
 " Perhaps," observed Ariadne. 
 
 " Perhaps," re-echoed Kathleen. 
 
 " And the women ? " said Ariadne. " What 
 are they like ? " 
 
 "You won't get on with them," answered 
 Kathleen, with a laugh. " Thoroughly com- 
 monplace. I don't believe there is one who has 
 a history, consequently they won't interest you ; 
 you'll make them all crazy with jealousy. 
 Hurry up, dear, and get strong. I want to 
 see some fun. There is nothing I enjoy more 
 than seeing you rout a pack of jealous old 
 tabbies." 
 
 " Kathleen ! Kathleen ! " began Ariadne, in 
 a tone of remonstrance, but she was interrupted 
 by the voice of the captain. 
 
 " Will you not come down to dinner this 
 evening ? " he inquired, kindly. 
 
 "No, captain. I fear I cannot just yet. 
 You go, dear," she said, addressing Kathleen. 
 
 " Can I do anything for you ? " 
 
 " Thank you, captain. If you don't mind, I 
 
 u
 
 .294 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 would like my chair turned round, that I may 
 be able to watch the moon rising." 
 
 " Are you comfortable, dear ? " said Kath- 
 leen, when the captain had removed the chair. 
 
 "Yes, thank you. Go to dinner now. I 
 shall enjoy a quiet musing." 
 
 " You are quite sure you won't be lonely ? " 
 said Kathleen, as she kissed her. 
 
 " No, no. Go now." 
 
 When the last sound of their footsteps had 
 died away, and silence reigned on the deck 
 below, Ariadne abandoned herself to the melan- 
 choly comfort of unrestrained weeping. She 
 wept at first softly and quietly, but the tears 
 seemed to gain strength with their flow, increas- 
 ing until a perfect tempest of grief overwhelmed 
 her. 
 
 Hector was dead. Three months before, the 
 news of his death had reached her. For a time 
 an attack of fever mercifully seized her and 
 granted blessed oblivion. With the return of 
 health came the return of that unending regret 
 eating at her heart like a cancer of sorrow. 
 Regret that she had not followed the impulse 
 of her love and remained by his side ; regret 
 that she had not thrown prudence and virtue 
 to the winds, and been to him all, wife if not
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND 295 
 
 in name, in heart for the brief days he had 
 to live. Oh, saddest of sorrows and bitterest 
 of knowledge is the sorrow void of consola- 
 tion, and the knowledge of good that has been 
 done in vain ! 
 
 Through her glimmering tears she looked 
 up at the Southern Cross, gleaming with 
 chaste, holy light in the heavens high above 
 her. 
 
 " Dear Southern Cross," she said, softly, 
 " you shine on his grave to-night, as you will 
 shine for endless nights when I can no longer 
 see your sacred radiance." 
 
 Then her eyes rested on the golden moon, 
 and glanced still lower, suddenly they beheld 
 the spirit of Hector standing motionless and 
 white before her in the moonlight. 
 
 " Oh, my love ! " she whispered, clasping her 
 hands on her heart as she slowly arose from the 
 chair. " I knew you would come to me once 
 more. I prayed so long to see you. Let me 
 touch you before I lose you again for ever." 
 
 Very slowly she advanced to him, as though 
 fearful of frightening him away. She could see 
 his eyes shining cold as the moon's rays. 
 Nearer she glided, until she could touch him ; 
 and then she stretched out her arms and folded 
 them around him.
 
 296 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 But the arms that returned her embrace were 
 warm ; and the heart she felt beating against 
 hers, throbbed like the beating of an imprisoned 
 bird. The lips on her lips thrilled her with a 
 kiss born not of heaven but of earth. Joy does 
 not always kill ; but sometimes it is too much 
 for the fondest heart ; and it sent her reeling 
 into the dark abyss of insensibility. 
 
 When she opened her eyes, she felt those 
 arms still around her, and the old remembered 
 kisses on her hair. The moon shone brightly 
 on the dear face and the drooping golden mus- 
 taches, and on the face of Kathleen. 
 
 " Oh ! I knew it all the time," cried her sister, 
 tears of joy shining in her eyes. " I knew it 
 from the first day we were on board ; but you 
 were too ill to bear the shock of surprise. Poor 
 boy, he has been begging to see you, and 
 watched you from little nooks and corners all 
 over the deck. But to-night I sent him up to 
 you and oh ! " 
 
 Here Kathleen broke down, and fled to the 
 gangway to stifle her sobs. 
 
 Ariadne nestled her head on Hector's 
 
 breast. 
 
 " Speak to me," she whispered, " and then 
 I'll know I am not dreaming."
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND 297 
 
 "Ariadne," was all he said. 
 
 "Oh! it is my Hector," she cried, exultingly. 
 " All the ghosts in the world could not speak 
 like that." 
 
 There are reunions too sacred for words 
 to describe. It is only those who have lost, 
 suffered, and re-found who can imagine the 
 picture the pen is too weak to portray. 
 
 When these two had wept out their joy 
 together, Ariadne, woman-like, was filled with 
 curiosity to solve the mystery of Hector's 
 reported death. 
 
 "Tell me, dearest," she said, "how did this 
 terrible mistake occur ? " 
 
 "It would take a long time to tell you all," 
 answered Hector, softly. " You are not well 
 enough to hear the story now." 
 
 Then he paused, and Ariadne fancied she 
 felt the hand clasping hers tremble a bit. 
 
 " Let it suffice for the present," he continued, 
 "that I have escaped death, and that I am with 
 you again, a stronger and better man than I 
 have ever been before." 
 
 It was not until Ariadne was his bride 
 that he told her of his escape from a living 
 death. 
 
 How, after a long siege of fever, complicated 
 with congestion of the brain, he suddenly col-
 
 298 THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 lapsed, and was to all appearance dead. How 
 he was buried the very evening of the day of 
 his supposed death as many another helpless 
 victim of the fever and thrust hastily into the 
 grave before twelve hours had elapsed, or 
 sufficient time allowed in which to detect the 
 difference between syncope and actual death. 
 
 How two Kafirs, coming in the early morning 
 to prepare fresh graves, mistaking in the faint 
 light of the dawn the low mound above his head 
 for the remains of some freshly-turned soil, had 
 set to work, and, to their amazement, on digging 
 up a few feet of earth, come upon the long, 
 narrow lid of his coffin, from which issued his 
 lusty cry 
 
 " Take me out of this, boys ! " 
 
 How the sound of pick and shovel, as they 
 worked away vigorously, had roused him from 
 that deadly sleep. How he awoke with brain 
 and senses cleared of the fumes of the fever ; 
 and in an instant realising, thanks to his 
 experience as a miner, that he was somewhere 
 underground probably buried in a shaft- 
 uttered that cry for help with all the strength 
 of desperation. 
 
 How the Kafirs, with true native pluck, 
 instead of abandoning him through fright, took 
 * This is an absolute fact.
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND 299 
 
 in the situation with grim humour, and set to 
 work right merrily to dig him out. How the 
 doctors stared some resentfully that he had 
 given the lie to their skill and the nurses 
 rejoiced, when the Kafirs bore him back to the 
 hospital. How the event probably saved many 
 another poor fellow from a living death, by 
 teaching the medical staff a lesson, whereby 
 they learned to be more cautious in the future. 
 
 But of all this he said nothing, that lovely 
 night at sea, to the fair woman beside him ; for 
 his courage faltered as he looked in the wan 
 face, and felt the soft touch of the fragile hand. 
 
 Suddenly, like the swift stroke of a knife, a 
 pang rent Ariadne's heart as she recalled the 
 words of Captain Achilles that morning in the 
 garden of Willow Grove. 
 
 Instinctively she shrank From her lover's side. 
 
 " There is something else " she began, in 
 a tremulous voice. 
 
 " I know what you would say," interrupted 
 Hector, as he drew her close to him. " You 
 would tell me of poor Archie's charge 
 against me that day at the 'Willows.' It was 
 false, little one, all false, every word of it ; and 
 I never knew what was the cause of your 
 sudden departure from the Rand, without a 
 word of farewell, until I heard it from the poor
 
 3oo THE GENTLEMAN DIGGER 
 
 fellow's lips, while I was nursing him. The night 
 he died, he confessed it in his delirium poor, 
 poor Archie. And the shock of hearing the 
 truth knocked me off my head, and laid me 
 down with the fever. I thought, when you ran 
 away, that you had made up your mind that 
 it would not be wise to marry a poor digger 
 after all ; so I tried to reconcile myself to my 
 fate." 
 
 Ariadne looked up at him with tearful eyes 
 full of reproach. 
 
 " But it is all right now," he hastened to say, 
 cheerily. " As soon as I was strong enough, I 
 left the Rand for the Cape, to seek you ; and 
 arrived just in time to secure a berth when I 
 found that you and Kathleen had booked for 
 the Garth. I've managed to scrape a few 
 hundred pounds together before I left the 
 Transvaal ; and if you if if you still- 
 Here Hector broke down ; but Ariadne 
 finished the sentence for him in a whisper, as 
 she put her soft lips to his ear. 
 
 " And you are sure you don't regret losing 
 that wedding tour in a bullock-waggon to 
 Matabeleland ? " he whispered back, with a 
 spice of his old teasing manner. 
 
 "Oh, I'm getting too old for any more 
 rambling ! " cried Ariadne, gaily.
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND 361 
 
 " What a very old lady you look, to be sure ! " 
 answered Hector, laughing. 
 
 " But, you know, a widow always feels old, 
 even if she doesn't look it." 
 
 To which arch retort Hector replied with a 
 look of mock gravity 
 
 " Pray don't be alarmed ! You won't have 
 cause to feel old very much longer ! " 
 
 Just then Kathleen joined them, and the 
 midnight bell rang out across the sea. 
 
 " Oh, that's the midnight bell ! " exclaimed 
 Ariadne. 
 
 "Wedding bell, more likely," said Kathleen. 
 
 Then they laughed together happily. 
 
 "How fast the ship sails to-night ! " said 
 Ariadne, as she paused near the gangway, to 
 take a last look at the beauty of the night 
 before going below. 
 
 "Not too fast," whispered Hector, as he 
 lifted her down the steep steps ; "for we are 
 sailing homeward together, little one, for all time 
 and eternity ! " 
 
 THE END. 
 
 PRINTED BY NEILL AND co., LTD., EDINBURGH.
 
 Fourth Edition. AT ALL BOOKSELLERS' AND LIBRARIES. 
 
 A POWERFUL AND BRILLIANT NOVEL. 
 
 THE HYPOCRITE, 
 
 A Story of Modern Life in Oxford and London. Crown 8vo, 
 art cloth (Oover designed by Scotson Clarke), 2/6. 
 
 A FEW OF "MANY PRESS OPINIONS. 
 
 Daily Telegraph. "A book by an anonymous author always arouses a certain 
 inquiry, and when the book is clever and original the interest becomes keen, and 
 conjecture is rife, endowing the most unlikely people with authorship._ .... It is 
 
 very brilliant, very forcible, very sad It is perfect in its way, in style clear, 
 
 sharp, and forcible, the dialogue epigrammatic and_ sparkling Enough has 
 
 been said to show that 'The Hypocrite' is a striking and powerful piece of work, 
 and that its author has established his claim to be considered a writer of originality 
 and brilliance." 
 
 Daily Graphic. "A very moral book." 
 
 Public Opinion. "By an oversight this clever book has been overlooked, and 
 we think it due to the unknown author to offer our humble apologies for the uninten- 
 tional neglect This tragic incident brings to an end one of the most remarkable 
 
 works that have appeared in 1898." 
 
 Court Circular. "The work is decidedly clever, full of ready wit, sparkling 
 epigram, and cutting sarcasm." 
 
 Echo. " The story is thoroughly interesting, the wit and epigram of the writing 
 are not to be denied, and altogether 'The Hypocrite' is so brilliant that it can only 
 be fittingly compared with ' The Green Carnation ' or ' The Babe B. A." " 
 
 Morning Leader. "A brilliant book .... evidently the work of a young, 
 powerful, and subtle brain." 
 
 Morning Post. " It is entitled to be regarded as one of the clever books of the 
 day. The writer shows artistic perception. He maintains throughout an atmosphere 
 perfectly in harmony with the idea that has suggested his work." 
 
 Birmingham Post." The work is remarkably clever ; it is self-consistent ; it is 
 strong." 
 
 London Morning. "A remarkable book Clever the book undoubtedly 
 
 is. Its brutally frank analysis of the temperament of a man with brain and mind 
 hopelessly diseased lifts the author out of the common rut of novelists, and stamps 
 him as a writer of power." 
 
 Sheffield Telegraph." It is always clever, and often even more than merely 
 clever." 
 
 Liverpool Courier. "A genuinely clever book. Futhermore, it is a book with 
 a wholesome moral vividly enforced." 
 
 Lady. " Whoever the author may be, he has the right literary method, his work 
 is absolutely realistic, his style is fluent and distinctive, and he has the rare faculty 
 of gripping the reader's attention at the outset, and retaining it to the very last. 
 .... ' The Hypocrite ' is something more than a remarkable novel ; it is, in effect, 
 a sermon, conveying a definite message to those who have the wit to understand it." 
 
 Melbourne .Sun. "The book sparkles with epigrammatic sayings and satirical 
 allusions. The characters are all vividly drawn, some of them being undoubted 
 and recognisable caricatures. The writing is that of a clever pessimist, with a vein 
 of sardonic humour that keeps the reader amused. The author may wear a green 
 carnation, but whether he does or not, it is the work of a skilful pen." 
 
 Liverpool Review. "'The Hypocrite 'is a fine novel. If the writer is young, 
 and the vigour of his work suggests that he is, he is the happy possessor of a gift 
 of intuition which is not equalled by our greatest living authors. His story is the 
 tersest, the keenest, and most fascinating study in mental and physical degeneration 
 that we have encountered within recent years. A book with a purpose of this kind 
 must necessarily dabble in cesspools, but in spite of this, and Messrs Mudie, ' The 
 Hypocrite ' is actually a highly and moral work, which will act as an encouragement to 
 the healthy to avoid evil, and as an incentive to the evil to return to the ways of 
 
 health It is a book to be read, to be respected, and to be recommended. It 
 
 will enthral you, it will horrify you, and it will do you good." 
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR. MISS MALEVOLENT. 
 
 JUST OUT. Crown &vo, cloth, 3/6. 
 
 London : GREENING & CO., Ltd., 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road.
 
 A BOOK OF GREAT INTEREST, 
 
 At all Booksellers' and Libraries. SECOND EDITION. 
 
 RUDYARD KIPLING: 
 
 THE MAN AND HIS WORK. 
 
 Being an attempt at Appreciation. By G. F. MONKSHOOD. With a Portrait 
 of Mr Kipling, and an Autograph Letter to the Author in facsimile. 
 
 Crown 8v0, crimson buckram, gilt top, 5/= net. 
 
 A FEW OF MANY PRESS OPINIONS. 
 
 Daily Telegraph. (Mr W. L. COURTNEY in "Books of the Day.") "He writes 
 fluently, and has genuine enthusiasm for his subject, and an intimate acquaintance 
 with his work. Moreover, his book has been submitted to Mr Kipling, whose charac- 
 teristic letter to the author is sat forth in the Preface Of Mr Kipling's heroes 
 
 Mr Monkshood has a thorough understanding, and his remarks on them are worth 
 quoting." (Here follows a long extract.) 
 
 Scotsman. "This well-informed volume .... is plainly sincere. It is thoroughly 
 well studied, and takes pains to answer all the questions that are usually put about Mr 
 Kipling. The writer's enthusiasm carries both himself and his reader along in the 
 
 most agreeable style One way and another, his book is full of interest ; those 
 
 who wish to talk about Mr Kipling will find it invaluable, while the thousands of his 
 admirers will read it through with delighted sympathy." 
 
 Western Daily Press. " A very praiseworthy attempt, and by a writer imbued 
 
 with a fervent esteem for his subject This valuation of the work of our most 
 
 virile Empire author should hold the attention of those who have well studied the 
 subject and can appreciate accordingly." 
 
 Sun. "The author has carefully compiled a lot of most interesting matter, which 
 he has edited with care and conscientiousness, and the result is a volume which every 
 lover of Kipling can read with pleasure." 
 
 Spectator. "It is very readable. It tells us some things which we might not 
 otherwise have known, and puts together in a convenient form many things which are 
 of common knowledge." 
 
 Outlook. "SOMETHING MORE than an attempt at appreciation Mr 
 
 Monkshood has written what all the young men at home and abroad who treasure 
 Mr Kipling's writings think, but have not expressed. The volume is a striking testi- 
 mony to the hold which work that is clean and sane and virile has upon the rising 
 generation. And for this we cannot be sufficiently thankful." 
 
 Globe. " It has at the basis both knowledge and enthusiasm knowledge of the 
 
 works estimated and enthusiasm for them This book may be accepted as a 
 
 generous exposition of Mr Kipling's merits as a writer. We can well believe that 
 it will have many interested and approving readers." 
 
 Irish Times. "A well-thought-out and earnest appreciation of the great writer 
 and his works." 
 
 Academy. "The book should give its subject pleasure, for Mr Monkshood is 
 very keen and cordial. His criticisms have some shrewdness too. Here is a 
 passage . . . ." (Long quotation follows.) 
 
 Sunday Times. "Sure to attract much attention. In it we are given a sketch 
 of Mr Kipling's career and the story of his various works, along with some sane 
 
 and balanced criticism The book is written brightly, thoughtfully, and 
 
 informingly." 
 
 Bookseller. "It is acute in perception, and sympathetic to the verge of 
 worship, with just as much criticism as will allow that the hero has his limitations. 
 .... Mr Monkshood's well-informed and well-written critique possesses undoubted 
 ability and attraction." 
 
 Yorkshire Herald. "This work, which is highly appreciative, will be received 
 
 with enthusiasm From this point the biography becomes even more interesting. 
 
 .... The author deals at length with Kipling's works, and with sufficient forcefulness 
 and originality to hold the reader's attention throughout. The biography has un- 
 doubted merit and will be largely read." 
 
 London: GREENING & CO., Ltd., 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road.
 
 A NEW WORK OF SOCIAL SATIRE. 
 
 A TRIP TO PARADOXIA, 
 
 AND OTHER HUMOURS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 Beitig Contemporary Pictures of Social Fact and Political Fiction. 
 
 By T. H. S. ESCOTT, Author of "England : Its People, Polity, and Pursuits," 
 "Personal Forces of the Period," etc., etc. 
 
 Crown &v0, art cloth, cover designed by \V. S. Rogers , SI- ntt. 
 
 Standard. "A book which is amusing from cover to cover. Bright epigrams 
 
 abound in Mr Escott's satirical pictures of the modern world Those who know 
 
 the inner aspects of politics and society will, undoubtedly, be the first to recognise the 
 skill and adroitness with which he strikes at the weak places in a world of intrigue and 
 fashion There is a great deal of very clever sword-play in Mr Escott's descrip- 
 tion of Dum-Dum (London), the capital of Paradoxia (England)." 
 
 Daily Telegraph. " It is paying no small compliment to Mr Escott to say that 
 the mantle of Greville-Murray has manifestly descended upon his shoulders. In 
 delicacy of humour and subtlety of treatment 'A Trip to Paradoxia' may rank as a 
 latter-day supplement of Jonathan Swift's masterpiece, 'Gulliver's Travels.'" 
 
 Newcastle Leader. "Messrs Greening are fortunate in being the publishers of a 
 volume so humorous, so dexterous, written with such knowledge of men and affairs, 
 and with such solidity and power of style as Mr T. H. S. Escott's ' A Trip to Para- 
 doxia.' " 
 St James's Gazette. " Brightly written, satirising certain aspects of society and 
 
 public life Will make time pass quickly and agreeably." 
 
 Athenaeum. " He constantly suggests real episodes and real persons. There are 
 a good many rather pretty epigrams scattered through Mr Escott's pages." 
 
 Scotsman. "A bright, witty, and amusing volume, which will entertain every- 
 body who takes it up." 
 
 Literature. " Mr Escott's style when in lighter vein is well known, and this book 
 will provide amusing reading." 
 
 Sheffield Telegraph. "There runs through all a vein of good-natured irony, 
 which, in quasi-fictitious disguise, shows up our English follies and inconsistencies. It 
 is done without bitterness or cruelty, but it is effective." 
 
 Globe. "Very thinly veiled indeed is the sarcasm which Mr Escott aims at the 
 weaknesses of our present policy. Eminently bright and genial are the method and 
 tone of these contemporary pictures." 
 
 Glasgow Herald. "Extremely piquant and entertaining." 
 
 Catholic Times. "A piece of work which evinces great cleverness, and also 
 great good sense. Quiet fun is abundant. Mr Escott's book should prove a source 
 of great interest to M.P.'s during their hours of relaxation." 
 
 North British Daily Mail. "The humour of some of the hits is irresistible, 
 and the satire well merited and pungent enough to be thoroughly and enjoyably 
 stimulating The reader cannot help feeling the charm of the author's sponta- 
 neous humour, his shrewd observation on humours of the hour, and his gossipy 
 opinions of latter-day institutions and customs." 
 Sunday Times. " Readers who delight in satire and sarcasm will find much to 
 
 delight them All sides of contemporary life are touched upon with a lightness 
 
 and sureness to which the author has long since accustomed us in his earlier 
 volumes." 
 
 Cork Herald. "Mr Escott is a consummate master of this particular style 
 of writing, which affords a wide field for his talent for novelty. One is attracted 
 and fascinated by the wealth of imagination and the force of contrast employed, as 
 one is amused with the quiet humour, and the pictures which are almost lifelike 
 in truth. Some of the sketches are exceedingly vivid and pretty, and all are clever 
 in the last degree." 
 
 Public Opinion. "Mr T. H. S._ Escott throws abundant humour blended with 
 pungent sarcasm into his work, making his pictures very agreeable reading to all but 
 the victims he has selected, and whose weaknesses he so skilfully lays bare. But the 
 very clever manner in which the writer hits the foibles and the follies of his fellows 
 must create admiration and respect even from those who view his satire with a wintry 
 smile. We like his writing, his power of discernment, and his high literary style." 
 
 London: GREENING & CO., Ltd., 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road,
 
 BOOKS WORTH READING 
 
 to* 
 
 BEING A LIST OF THE 
 New and Forthcoming Publications 
 
 OF 
 
 & CO., LTD. 
 
 20 Cecil Court 
 
 Charing Cross Road 
 
 OCTOBER 1899 LONDON, W.C. 
 
 GENERAL LITERATURE, CRITICISM, 
 POETRV, ETC. 
 
 Writer* of To~3)ay : 
 
 Being a Series of Monographs on living Authors. 
 Each volume is written by a competent authority, 
 and each subject is treated in an appreciative, 
 yet critical, manner. The following are the first 
 volumes in the Series : 
 
 The Man and His Work. Being 
 
 an attempt at an " Appreciation." By G. F. MONKSHOOD, Author 
 of "Woman and The Wits," " My Lady Ruby," etc. Containing 
 a portrait of Mr Kipling and an autograph letter to the author 
 in facsimile. Second Impression. Crown Svo, buckram, gilt 
 lettered, top edge gilt, 55. nett. 
 
 Daily Telegraph. " He writes fluently, and he has genuine enthusiasm for his subject, 
 and an intimate acquaintance with his work. Moreover, the book has been submitted 
 to Mr Kipling, whose characteristic letter to the author is set forth on the preface. . . . 
 Of Kipling's heroes Mr Monkshood has a thorough understanding, and his remarks 
 on them are worth quoting " (extract follows). 
 
 Globe " It has at the basis of it both knowledge and enthusiasm knowledge of the 
 works estimated and enthusiasm for them. This book may be accepted as a generous 
 exposition of Mr Kipling's merits as a writer. We can well believe that it will have 
 many interested and approving readers." 
 
 Scotsman. "This well-informed volume is plainly sincere. It is thoroughly well 
 studied, and takes pains to answer all the questions that are usually put about Mr Kipling. 
 The writer's enthusiasm carries both himself and his reader along in the most agreeable 
 style. One way and another his book is full of interest, and those who wish to talk 
 about Kipling will find it invaluable, while the thousands of his admirers will read it 
 through with delighted enthusiasm."
 
 Greening & Co., Ltd., Publishers 
 
 VOLUMES OF E.W.O.T. (In preparation.) 
 
 yfardy. By W. L. COURTNEY. 
 Tfteredtf/l. By WALTER JERROLD. 
 
 . By T. EDGAR PEMBERTON. 
 *e *&a{fienne. By C. RANGER GULL. 
 6fing J*merO, By HAMILTON FYFFE. 
 tx/. I JrCenfajf, and the "NATIONAL OBSERVER" 
 
 Group. By GEORGE GAMBLE. 
 
 n 
 
 POETRY. (ANDREW LANG, EDMUND GOSSE and ROBERT 
 BRIDGES.) By Sir GEORGE DOUGLAS. 
 
 tfffyernon Parted 3fu)in6iiFne. By G. F. 
 
 MONKSHOOD. 
 
 Tfeafafi'e TOfriterd of 'To-day. By JUSTIN 
 
 HANNAFORD. 
 
 Of *lfe. A Few Memories and Re- 
 collections (de omnibus rebus). By CLEMENT SCOTT, Author of 
 " Madonna Mia," " Poppyland," etc. With Portrait of the Author 
 from the celebrated Painting by J. MORDECAI. Third Edition. 
 Crown 8vo, crimson buckram, gilt lettered, gilt top, 2s. 
 
 Weekly Sun(T. P. O'Connor) says: A Book of the Week" I have found this slight 
 and unpretentious little volume bright, interesting reading. I have read nearly every 
 line with pleasure." 
 
 Illustrated London News." The story Mr Scott has to tell is full of varied interest, 
 and is presented with warmth and buoyancy." 
 
 Punch. "What pleasant memories does not Clement Scott's little book, 'The Wheel 
 of Life,' revive ! 1'he writer's memory is good, his style easy, and above all, which is a 
 great thing for reminiscences, chatty." 
 
 Referee. GEORGE R. SIMS ODagonet) says: "Deeply interesting are these last 
 memories and recollections of the last days of Bohemia. ... I picked up ' The \V heel of 
 Life ' at one in the morning, after a hard night's work, and flung myself, weary and worn, 
 into an easy-chair, to glance at it while I smoked my last pipe. As I read, all my weari- 
 ness departed, for I was young and light-hearted once again, and the friends of my young 
 manhood had come trooping back from the shadows to make a merry night of it once more 
 in London town. And when I put the book down, having read it from cover to cover, it 
 was ' past three o'clock and a windy morning.' " 
 
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 Greening & Co., Ltd., Publishers 
 
 Trip 
 
 p tO aradoria, and other Humours of the 
 Hour. Being Contemporary Pictures of Social Fact and Political 
 Fiction. By T. H. S. ESCOTT, Author of "Personal Forces 
 of the Period," "Social Transformation of the Victorian Age," 
 " Platform, Press, Politics, and Play," Etc. Crown 8vo, art 
 cloth. Gilt, 55. nett. 
 
 Standard. "A book which is amusing from cover to cover. Bright epigrams abound 
 :.i Mr Escott's satirical pictures of the modern world. . . . Those who know the inner 
 aspects of politics and society will, undoubtedly, be the first to recognise the skill and 
 adroitness with which he strikes at the weak places in a world of intrigue and fashion. 
 . . . There is a great deal of very clever sword-play in Mr Escott's description of 
 Dum-Dum (London;, the capital of Paradoxia (England). 
 
 Court Circular. "It is brilliantly written, and will afford keen enjoyment to the 
 discriminating taste. Its satire is keen-edged, but good-humoured enough to hurt no 
 one ; and its wit and (may me say ?) its impudence should cause a run on it at the 
 libraries." 
 
 M. A. P. "A sparkling piece of political and social satire. Mr Escott besprinkles his 
 pages with biting epigram and humorous innuendo. It is a most amusing book." 
 AthpTiflBTiTn, "He constantly suggests real episodes and real persons. There are a 
 good many rather pretty epigrams scattered through Mr Escott's pages." 
 Scotsman.. "A bright, witty, and amusing volume, which will entertain everybody 
 who takes it up." 
 
 Newcastle Leader. " Messrs Greening are fortunate in being the publishers of a 
 volume so humorous, so dexterous, written with such knowledge of men and affairs, and 
 with such solidity and power of style as Mr T. H. S. Escott's 'A Trip to Paradoxia.'" 
 Public Opinion. "Mr T. H. S. Escott throws abundant humour blended with pungent 
 sarcasm into his work, making his pictures very agreeable reading to all but the victim 
 he has selected, and whose weaknesses he so skilfully lays bare. But the very clever 
 manner in which the writer hits the foibles and follies of his fellows must create admira- 
 tion and respect even from those who view his satire with a wintry smile.- We like his 
 writing, his power of discernment, and his high literary style." 
 
 and 
 
 Being 
 
 the Second 
 
 Series of "The Wheel of Life," Memories and Recollections of 
 " People " I have met, " Plays " I have seen, and " Places " I have 
 visited. By CLEMENT SCOTT, Author of " The Stage of Yesterday 
 and The Stage of To-day," "Pictures of the World," "Thirty 
 Years at the Play." Crown 8vo, cloth gilt. (In preparation.) 55. 
 
 fyf t/ie fea. " Seaside and Country Sketches. 
 By CLEMENT SCOTT, Author of " Blossom Land," "Amongst the 
 Apple Orchards," Etc. Frontispiece and Vignette designed by 
 GEORGE POWNALL. Long I2mo, attractively bound in cloth, is. 
 
 Observer. "The little book is bright and readable, and will come like a breath of 
 country air to many unfortunates who are tied by the leg to chair, stool, or counter." 
 Sheffield Telegraph. " Bright, breezy, and altogether readable. . . . East Anglia, 
 Nelson's Land, etc., etc., are all dealt with, and touched lightly and daintily, as becomes 
 a booklet meant to be slipped in the pocket and read easily to the pleasing accompaniment 
 of the waves lazily lapping on the shingle by the shore." 
 
 Dundee Advertiser. " It is all delightful, and almost as good as a holiday. The 
 city clerk, the jaded shopman, the weary milliner, the pessimistic dyspeptic, should each 
 read the book. It will bring a suggestion of sea breezes, the plash of waves, and all the 
 accessories of a holiday by the sea." 
 
 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road, London, W.C.
 
 Greening & Co,, Ltd., Publishers 
 
 (SARAH BERNHARDT, 
 
 HENRY IRVING, BEERBOHM TREE, WILSON BARRETT and 
 FORBES ROBERTSON.) By CLEMENT SCOTT. Illustrated with 
 portraits. Crown 8vo, cloth, as. 6d. 
 
 T$efo(d. By "A CHURCH- 
 MAN." Crown 8vo, cloth, 33. 6d. 
 
 Of *lime. With some Stories from 
 the Black Museum. By R. J. POWER-BERREY. Profusely 
 Illustrated. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Outlook. " Decidedly you should read Mr Power-Berrey's interesting book, taking laugh 
 and shudder as they come." 
 
 Sheffield Independent. "We do not remember to have ever seen a more popularly- 
 written summary of the methods of thieves than this bright and chatty volume. It is 
 the work of a writer who evidently has a most intimate knowledge of the criminal 
 classes, and who can carry on a plain narrative briskly and forcibly. The book fascinates 
 by its freshness and unusualness." 
 
 Literature. " It contains many interesting stories and new observations on the modus 
 operandi of swindlers." 
 
 Scotsman. " A most interesting account of the dodges adopted by various criminals 
 in effecting their purposes. The reader will find much that is instructive within its 
 pages." 
 
 Liverpool Review. "This is no fanciful production, but a clear, dispassionate re- 
 relation of the dodges of the professional criminal. Illustrated by numerous pen and ink 
 sketches, Mr Power-Berrey's excellent work is useful as well as interesting, for it will 
 certainly not assist the common pilferer to have all his little tricks made public property 
 in this lucid and easily rememberable style." 
 
 %e $rf Of locution and Public Speaking. By 
 Ross FERGUSON. With an Introduction by GEO. ALEXANDER. 
 Dedicated by permission to Miss ELLEN TERRY. Second Edition. 
 Crown 8vo, strongly bound in cloth, is. 
 
 Australian Mail. "A_useful little book. We can strongly recommend it to the 
 chairmen of public companies." 
 
 Stage. "A carefully composed treatise, obviously written by one as having authority. 
 Students will find it of great service." 
 
 People's Friend. "Contains many valuable hints, and deals with every branch of 
 the elocutionist's art in a lucid and intelligible manner." 
 
 Literary World. " The essentials of elocution are dealt with in a thoroughly capable 
 and practical way. The chapter on public speaking is particularly satisfactory." 
 Madame. " The work is pleasingly thorough. The instructions are most interesting, 
 and are lucidly expressed, physiological details are carefully, yet not redundantly, dwelt 
 on, so that the intending student may have some very real and definite idea of what he is 
 learning about, and many valuable hints may be gleaned from the chapters on ' Articula- 
 tion and Modulation.' Not only for actors and orators will this little book be found of 
 great service, but everyone may find pleasure and profit in reading it." 
 
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 of the zot/. Being Essays on Conti- 
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 yfidfory of ?lur6ery Jfnymed. By PERCY 
 
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 research among nursery folklore of all nations, and traces the 
 origin of nursery rhymes from the earliest times. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth, 45. 
 
 *T/ie 3/ear J$oo6 of Me zftage. Being an 
 
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 English Stage, with copious Index and complete Caste of each 
 Play recorded. A useful compilation for students of the Drama. 
 About 260 pages, strongly bound in cloth, 35. 6d. 
 
 <&n 2uainf 'ffadf $nafia. Descriptive sketches. 
 
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 I2mo, cloth, is. 
 
 Observer. " That East Anglia exercises a very potent spell over those who once come 
 
 under its influence is proved by the case of George Borrow, and all who share in the 
 
 fascination will delight in this brightly written, companionable little volume." 
 
 Birmingham ArgUS, " Interesting matter entertainingly told." 
 
 Glasgow Herald." Mr Carnie's book is thoroughly charming." 
 
 Literature. An asthetic volume as pleasant to read as to look at." 
 
 Guardian. " lust the kind of book that would help a tourist in Norfolk and Suffolk 
 
 to see what ought to be seen with the proper measure of enjoyment." 
 
 Graphic. " It is a prettily got up and readable little book." 
 
 Saturday Review. "Will be welcomed by all who have come under the charm of 
 
 East Anglia. 
 
 man ttdrift. Being Leaves from a Nomad's 
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 is a narrative of adventures in all parts of the world. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth, 6s. 
 
 and the 7fflt6. Epigrams on Woman, Love, 
 and Beauty. Collected and edited by G. F. MONKSHOOD, Author 
 of " Rudyaid Kipling : The Man and His Work," " Lady Ruby," 
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 SUH. "Mr Longstaff has real fire and passion in all of his work. He has a graceful 
 touch and a tuneful ear. There is exquisite melody in his metre." 
 
 Echo. " The poetry of passion is no rarity to-day, yet scarcely since the date of Philip 
 Bourke Marston's ' Song Tide ' has such an arresting and whole-hearted example of this 
 class of poetry been issued by any English author as the volume which Mr William 
 Luther Longstaff entitles 'Weeds and Flowers.' Passion, tumultuous and unabashed, 
 sensuous rapture openly flaunting its shame, love in maddest surrender risking all, 
 daring all, these are the dominant motives of Mr LongstafPs muse. So wild is the 
 rush of his emotion all storm and fire and blood to such white heat does he forge his 
 burning phrases, so subtly varied are the constantly recurring expressions of love's ecstasy, 
 its despair, its bereavement, its appetite, its scorn, so happy sometimes are the unex- 
 pected metrical changes and experiments herein adopted, that the younger poet might 
 suggest discreet comparisons with the earlier Swinburne." 
 
 Moming Herald. " The book contains real poetry. There is always thought and 
 force in the work. ' At the Gate ' is not merely Swinburnian in metre ; in all things it 
 might well have come from that poet's pen." 
 
 Greening's Masterpiece Library 
 
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 Edited with an Introduction by JUSTIN HANNAFORD. Full-page 
 illustrations by W. S. ROGERS. Crown 8vo, art cloth, gilt, 33 6d. 
 A superb edition of this most interesting and fascinating story. 
 
 or, The Devil on Two Sticks. An Illus- 
 trated Edition of the Celebrated Novel by LE SAGE, Author of 
 "Gil Bias." Edited by JUSTIN HANNAFORD. Crown 8vo, 55. 
 
 <lY6aije. A Tale of the Covenanters. By 
 JOHN GALT. Edited with an Introduction by Sir GEORGE 
 DOUGLAS. Crown 8vo, 55. 
 
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 By Dr JOHNSON. Edited with an Introduction by JUSTIN 
 HANNAFORD. Full-page illustrations by W. S. ROGERS. Crown 
 8vo, 55. 
 
 A Tale of Mystery and Adventure. 
 By THOMAS MOORE. Edited with an Introduction by JUSTIN 
 HANNAFORD. Illustrated. 8vo, art cloth, 35. 6d. 
 Several well known and popular works by great writers are in 
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 . A Powerful and Dramatic 
 
 Tale, translated from the Polish of Mdme. ORZESZKO by S. C. de 
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 Q/Ofl Of Africa. A Tale of Marvellous Adventures. 
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 T. W. SPEIGHT, Author of "The Crime in the Wood," "The 
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 Satirical Tale. By ISIDORE G. ASCHER, Author of "An Odd 
 Man's Story," "The Doom of Destiny," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth 
 gilt, 6s. 
 
 Scotsman. " The plot is bold, even to audacity ; its development is always interesting, 
 picturesque, and, towards the close, deeply pathetic ; and the purpose and method of the 
 writer are alike admirable." 
 
 Eastern Morning News. " It is a clever book, splendidly written, and striking in its 
 wonderful power, and keeping the reader interested. . . . The author has not failed in 
 his effort to prove the case. The awful truth of its pages is borne home upon us as we 
 read chapter after chapter. The book should have a good effect in certain quarters. One 
 of the best features is the dividing line drawn most plainly between Socialism and Anarch- 
 ism. To its author we tender our thanks, and predict a large sale." 
 Dally Telegraph. "The hero is an interesting dreamer, absorbed in his schemes, 
 which are his one weakness. To women, save when they can further the good of his 
 cause, he is obdurate ; in business, strong, energetic, and powerful. He is shown to us 
 as the man with a master mind and one absorbing delusion, and as such is a pathetic 
 figure. No one can dispute the prodigality and liveliness of the author's imagination ; 
 his plot teems with striking incidents." 
 
 Vanity Fair. "The story tells itself very clearly in three hundred pages of very 
 pleasant and entertaining reading. The men and women we meet are not the men and 
 women we really come across in this world. So much the better for us. But we are 
 delighted to read about them, for all that ; and we prophesy success for Mr Ascher's 
 book, particularly as he has taken the precaution of telling us that he is ' only in fun.' " 
 Aberdeen Free Press. "A story in which there is not a dull page, nay, not even a 
 dull line. The characters are well drawn, the incidents are .novel and often astounding, 
 and the language has a terseness and briskness that gives a character of vivacity to the 
 story, so that the reader is never tired going on unravelling the tangled meshes of the 
 intricate plot until he comes to the end. ' A Social Upheaval ' is, indeed, a rattling good 
 book." 
 
 ?leu) Ta/e of The Terror. A Powerful and 
 
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 Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. 
 
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 A Social Satire. By - ? This is a remark- 
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 is. a powerful work, written with striking vividness. -The plot is 
 fascinating, the incidents exciting, and the dialogue epigrammatic 
 and brilliant. "Shams" is written by one of the most popular 
 novelists of the day. Crown 8vo, art cloth, gilt, 35. 6d. 
 
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 *omedl/ Of temptation; or, The Amateur 
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 Papers," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 33. 6d. 
 
 IHfei'rd Tlfett. A Tale of To-day. By Mrs 
 ALEC M'MiLLAN, Author of "The Evolution of Daphne," "So 
 Runs my Dream," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 35, 6d. 
 
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 "The Mystery and Romance of Alchemy and Pharmacy," etc. 
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 The Temptation of 'Sdith Wfffao/i. By 
 
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 Preface. Crown 8vo, cloth, 35. 6d. 
 
 $fu)0rd Of Tate. An Interesting Novel. By 
 HENRY HERMAN, Author of " Eagle Joe," " Scarlet Fortune," etc., 
 and Joint Author of the " Silver King," " Claudian." Crown 8vo, 
 art cloth, 35. 6d. 
 
 Va.Hl ty Fair. "The hand that wrote the 'Silver King' has by no means lost its 
 cunning in painting broad effects of light and shadow. The description of life in Broad- 
 moor is, we fancy, done from actual observation. It is quite new." And the critic of 
 Black and WMtesums it up pithily as "a story which holds our attention and in- 
 terests us right from the first chapter. The book is as exciting as even a story of sen- 
 sation has any need to be." Speaking of the scene of Mr Herman's drama, the beautiful 
 county of Devonshire, where the greater part of the story takes place, the Manchester 
 Courier says : " The author's descriptive powers vividly portray the lovely spots by the 
 winding Tamar, while the rich dialect of the district is so faithfully reproduced as to be- 
 come not the least feature of an exciting tale." 
 
 Trie Weekly Mercury. "Mr Henry Herman has carefully studied the little weak- 
 nesses of the great army of readers. Like a celebrated and much advertised medicine, 
 he invariably 'touches the spot,' and hence the popularity of his works. His latest 
 novel, ' The Sword of Fate,' contains all the essentials of a popular story. It is well 
 written, sufficiently dramatic, full of life and incident, and above all, right triumphs over 
 wrong. We must, too, congratulate the author upon the omission of all that is disagree- 
 able or likely to offend the susceptibilities of the most delicate minded. It is a clean and 
 healthy novel, a credit to the writer, and a pleasure to the reader. . . . These are quite 
 capable of affording; anyone a pleasant evening's reading, a remark which does not apply 
 to the great majority of the modern novels." 
 
 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road, London, W.C.
 
 Greening & Co., Ltd., Publishers 
 
 Jligfiti u)tffi sfatan. A Novel. By j. L. 
 
 OWEN, Author of " The Great Jekyll Diamond." Cover designed 
 by W. S. ROGERS. Crown 8vo, cloth, 33. 6d. 
 
 St James's Gazette. "We have read the book from start to finish with unflagging 
 interest an interest, by the way, which derives nothing from the ' spice,' for though its 
 title may be suggestive of Zolaism, there is not a single passage which is open to ob- 
 jection. The literary style is good." 
 
 Truth. "I much prefer the ghastly story 'Seven Nights with Satan,' a very clever 
 study of degeneration." 
 
 LOIldOIl Morning. " The story told is a powerful one, evidently based upon close 
 personal knowledge of the events, places, and persons which figure in it. A tragic note 
 pervades it, but still there is lightness and wit in its manner which makes the book a very 
 fascinating as well as eventful volume." 
 
 Public Opinion. "Mr J. L. Owen has given a title to his work which will cause 
 many conjectures as to the nature of the story. Now, if we divulged what were the 
 seven nights, we should be doing the author anything but a service in fact, we should 
 be giving the whole thing away ; therefore, we will only state that the work is cleverly 
 conceived, and carried out with great literary ability. There are numerous flashes of 
 originality that lift the author above ordinary commonplace." 
 
 J* 
 
 a6Wn. The Study of a Jealous Soul. 
 A Powerful Novel. By ANTHONY P. VERT. Cover designed by 
 ALFRED PRAGA. Crown 8vo, art cloth, 35. 6d. 
 
 Mr DOUGLAS SLADEN in The Queen. " A remarkably clever book. . . . There is no 
 disputing the ability with which the writer handles her subject. I say her subject, 
 because the minuteness of the touches, and the odd, forcible style in which this book is 
 written, point to it being the work of a female hand. The book is an eminently read- 
 able one, and it is never dull for a minute." 
 
 Dally Telegraph. " It is a study of one of the worst passions which can ruin a lile- 
 time and mar all human happiness one of the worst, not because it is necessarily the 
 strongest, but because o_f its singular effect in altering the complexion of things, trans- 
 forming love into suspicion, and filling its victim with a petulant and unreasonable mad- 
 ness. All this Anthony Vert understands, and can describe with very uncommon power. 
 The soul of a jealous woman is analysed with artistic completeness, and proved to be the 
 petty, intolerant, half-insane thing it really is. ... The plot is well conceived, and well 
 carried out. Anthony Vert may be congratulated on having written a very clever 
 novel." 
 
 The Monitor. " A wonderful piece of writing. The only modern parallel we can find 
 Is supplied in Mr F. C. Philip's ' As in a Looking Glass." " 
 
 World. "As the study of a jealous soul, 'The Green Passion' is a success, and 
 psychological students will be delighted with it. ... The tragedy which forms the 
 denouement to this story is of such a nature as to preclude our doing more than 
 remotely alluding to it, for he (or is it she ?) has portrayed an ' exceedingly risky 
 situation.' " 
 
 Whitehall Review." In | The Green Passion ' the author traces with much ability, 
 and not a little analytical insight, the progress of jealousy in the breast of a woman who 
 is born with a very ' intense,' although not a very deep, nature. . . . There is in Air 
 Vert's work a certain tendency towards realism which has its due effect in making his 
 characters real. They are no loosely-built fancies of the journalistic brain, but portraits 
 almost snapshot portraits of men and women of to-day." 
 
 Being the Confessions of 
 
 agCOU Orine. Beng the Conessons o 
 Evelyn Gray, Hospital Nurse. A story founded on fact, proving 
 that truth is stranger than fiction. (In preparation.) Crown 8vo, 
 cloth, 33. 6d. 
 
 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road, London, W.C.
 
 Greening & Co., Ltd., Publishers n 
 
 *7/ie ^bofomite *at)ern. An Exciting Tale of Ad- 
 venture. By W. PATRICK KELLY, Author of " Schoolboys Three," 
 etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 35. 6d. 
 
 Daily Telegraph " Lovers of the sensational in fiction will find abundance of con- 
 genial entertainment in Mr W. P. Kelly's new story. In the way of accessories to 
 startling situations all is fish that comes to this ingenious author's net. The wonders of 
 primitive nature, the marvels of latter-day science, the extravagances of human passion 
 all these he dexterously uses for the purpose of involving his hero in perilous scrapes from 
 which he no less dexterously extricates him by expedients which, however far-fetched 
 they may appear to the unimaginative, are certainly not lacking in originality of device, 
 or cleverness of construction. . . . This is a specimen incident those which succeed it 
 derive their special interest from the action of Rontgen rays, subterranean torrents, and 
 devastating inundations. The book is very readable throughout, and ends happily. 
 What more can the average novel reader wish for in holiday time ? " 
 
 Observer. "A story full of exciting adventure." 
 
 Saturday Review. " The plot is ingenious, and the style pleasant." 
 
 Literature. " ' The Dolomite Cavern ' has the great merit of being very well written. 
 The plot is sensational and improbable enough, but with the aid of the author's bright 
 literary manner it carries us on agreeably until the last chapter." 
 
 Critic. "It is a sensational novel with a dash of pseudo-scientific interest about it 
 which is well calculated to attract the public. It is, moreover, well written and 
 vigorous." 
 
 Manchester Guardian. " Mr Kelly's fluent, rapid style makes his story of mysteries 
 readable and amusing. His Irish servant, one of the principal characters, speaks 
 a genuine Irish dialect almost as rare in fiction as the imitation is common." 
 
 St James's Budget." Truly thrilling and dramatic, Mr Kelly's book is a cleverly 
 written and absorbing romance. It concludes with a tremendous scene, in which a life- 
 and-death struggle with a madman in the midst of a raging flood is the leading 
 feature." 
 
 Jnt 
 
 ta, and other Stories. By CLEMENT 
 SCOTT, Author of " Poppyland," " The Wheel of Life," " The 
 Fate of Fenella," " Blossomland," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 33. 6d. 
 
 Punch. " ' Madonna Mia ' is genuinely interesting. All the stories are good ; you are 
 ' Scott free ' to pick 'em where you like." (The Baron de B. W.) 
 
 Weekly Sun. "Shows Mr Scott's sturdy character painting and love of picturesque 
 adventure." 
 
 Weekly Dispatch. "The book is characteristic of the work of its author bright, 
 brilliant, informing, and entertaining, and without a dull sentence in it." 
 
 St James's Gazette. " Full of grace and sentiment. The tales have each their 
 individuality and interest, and we can recommend the whole as healthy refreshment for 
 the idle or weary brain." 
 
 Pelican. " Full of living, breathing, human interest. Few writers possess the gift of 
 bringing actual existence to their characters as does Mr Scott, and in the pages of his 
 newest book you shall find tears and smiles, and all the emotions skilfully arranged and 
 put in true literary fashion." 
 
 World. "Clement Scott is nothing if not sympathetic, and every one of the ten stories 
 is not only thoroughly readable, but is instinct with sentiment ; for Mr Scott still retains 
 a wonderful enthusiasm, usually the attribute of youth. 'Drifting' is a very fresh and 
 convincing narrative, founded, we understand, upon truth, and containing within a small 
 compass the materials for a very stirring drama. ' A Cross of Heather,' too, is a charm- 
 ing romance, told with real pathos and feeling." 
 
 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road, London, W.C.
 
 12 Greening & Co., Ltd., Publishers 
 
 The sfhadou) on The *iRan6e. A Tale of 
 
 Religion and the Stage. By CAMPBELL RAE-BROWN, Author of 
 "The Resurrection of His Grace," " Kissing- Cup's Race," etc. 
 Crown 8vo, art cloth, gilt, 35. 6d. 
 
 The *ady Of the *eOpard. A Powerful and 
 Fascinating Novel. By CHAS. L'EPINE, Author of " The Devil in 
 a Domino." Crown Svo, art cloth, 35. 6d. 
 
 Public Opinion. "A remarkable book._. . . We are plunged into a delicious and 
 
 tantalising romance ; incident follows incident like a panorama of exciting pictures. 
 
 Fertility of imagination is everywhere apparent, and the denouement is artfully 
 
 coicealed till it bursts upon the reader with a suddenness that fairly takes away his 
 
 breath." 
 
 Liverpool Mercury. " Lovers of the marvellous will enjoy it, for it is cleverly and 
 
 dramatically written." 
 
 Dundee Advertiser." Written with dramatic force and vigour." 
 
 North British Advertiser. " This is a weird and strange story that interests and 
 
 fascinates the reader, with its occult fancies and marvellous experiences. ... It may be 
 
 added, in conclusion, that it is a book well worth reading, and will easily bear a second 
 
 perusal." 
 
 Liverpool POSt. " A very skilfully constructed story, mysterious and strange, with a 
 
 natural explanation suggested of all the mystery which does not spoil one's enjoyment 
 
 (here follows analysis of plot). This is the bare outline of the story up to a certain point ; 
 
 it is impossible to convey adequately an idea of the awe-inspiring characteristics of the 
 
 story. Readers can safely be recommended to turn to the book itself." 
 
 POPULAR FICTION 
 
 HALF-CROWN NOVELS 
 
 Jftonte *arfo. A Tale by HENRYK SIEN- 
 
 KIEWICZ, Author of "Quo Vadis," "With Fire and Sword," 
 etc., etc. Translated by S. C. de SOISSONS. Crown Svo, art 
 cloth, with a new Portrait of the Author, 2s. 6d. 
 
 The Tragedy of The tfady 
 
 By W. LUTHER LONGSTAFF, Author of "Weeds and Flowers," 
 etc. An exciting tale, descriptive of the " Behind-the-Scenes of 
 the Palmist's Bohemia." Crown Svo, cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Tfty *ady Tiudy, and ffiadifeon, *hief of 
 
 POLICE. Two stories by G. F. MONKSHOOD, Author of " Night- 
 shades," " Rudyard Kipling : The Man and His Work," 
 " Woman and The Wits," etc. Crown Svo, cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road, London, W.C.
 
 Greening & Co., Ltd., Publishers 13 
 
 Hypocrite. A Modern Realistic Novel of Oxford 
 and London Life. Fourth Impression. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 ** This book has been " boycotted" by Messrs Mudie and Messrs IV. H. Smith <5r> Son 
 as being " unfit to circulate in their libraries" yet it has been praised by the press 
 at being " a powerful sermon and a moral book." 
 
 Daily Telegraph. " A book by an anonymous author always arouses a certain inquiry, 
 
 and when the book is clever and original the interest becomes keen, and conjecture is rife, 
 
 endowing the most unlikely people with authorship. ... It is very brilliant, very 
 
 forcible, very 'sad. ... It is perfect in its way, in style clear, sharp and forcible, the 
 
 dialogue epigrammatic and sparkling. . . . Enough has been said to show that ' The 
 
 Hypocrite ' is a striking and powerful p_iece of work, and that its author has established 
 
 his claim to be considered a writer of originality and brilliance." 
 
 Daily Graphic." A very moral book." 
 
 Court Circular. " The work is decidedly clever, full of ready wit, sparkling epigram, 
 
 and cutting sarcasm." 
 
 Echo. " The story is thoroughly interesting, the wit and epigram of the writing are not 
 
 to be denied, and altogether ' The Hypocrite ' is so brilliant that it can only be fittingly 
 
 compared with ' The Green Carnation ' or ' The Babe B. A.' " 
 
 Liverpool Courier. " A genuinely clever book. Furthermore, it is a book with a 
 
 wholesome moral vividly enforced." 
 
 Lady. "Whoever the author may be, he has the right literary method, his work is 
 
 absolutely realistic, his style is fluent and distinctive, and he has the rare faculty of 
 
 gripping the reader's attention at the outset and retaining it to the very last. ... ' The 
 
 Hypocrite ' is something more than a remarkable novel it is, in effect, a sermon, convey- 
 
 ing a definite message to those who have the wit to understand it." 
 
 Morning Post. " It is entitled to be regarded as one of the clever books of the day. 
 
 The writer shows artistic perception. He maintains throughout an atmosphere perfectly 
 
 in harmony with the idea that has suggested his work." 
 
 lOfandering ^Romanoff. A Romance. B y 
 
 BART KENNEDY, Author of "A Man Adrift," " Darab's Wine- 
 Cup," etc. New and Cheaper Edition, crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 A Nineteenth Century Romance. 
 .Being a Story of Carlist Conspiracy. By HEBER DANIELS, Author 
 of " Our Tenants." Second Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Bookman. "A highly emotional, cleverly written story." 
 
 Lady. "A thrilling romance with a mediaeval atmosphere, although the scene is laid 
 
 in the Cotswolds in the year of grace 1898. The story is well constructed, and is a good 
 
 example of the widely imaginative type of fiction that is so eagerly devoured by young 
 
 people nowadays." 
 
 Lloyd's." The author has woven a clever story out of strange materials. . . . The 
 
 interest of the book only ceases when the end is reached." 
 
 Society. "Altogether a very intelligible and interesting story of intrigue and love. 
 
 The author has put some excellent work into the book." 
 
 Eastern Morning News." Readers will be fascinated by the stirring scenes, the 
 
 swiftly moving panorama, the enacted tragedies, the wild, passionate, lawless loves 
 
 depicted in the most sensational manner in this volume." 
 
 Englishman (Calcutta)." It is a lurid tale of Spanish plotters. . . . Around this 
 
 central figure the author weaves an effective story with more than considerable skill. 
 
 He has achieved a brilliant success with the character of Rufina ; it is a masterpiece in 
 
 its own way, and invested with freshness, grace, and a magnetic personality." 
 
 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road, London, W.C.
 
 14 Greening & Co., Ltd., Publishers 
 
 A Story of Music-Hall Life. By 
 GEORGE MARTYN. Crown 8vo, cloth, as. 6d. 
 
 OlltlOOk. " The book is both humorous and dramatic." 
 
 Pelican. " It is amusing and interesting two very good qualities for a novel to possess." 
 Sheffield Telegraph. "The book is vivaciously written, several of the characters 
 being human enough to look like studies from life." 
 
 Aberdeen Free Press. "The characters are skilfully depicted, and the whole book 
 
 is amusing and interesting." 
 
 Glasgow Citizen. " ' Decidedly clever ' will be the verdict of the reader on closing this 
 
 book." 
 
 Vanity Fair. "The author has a peculiar knowledge of the ' Halls' and those who 
 
 frequent them ; and especially, as it seems to us, of those Jewish persons who sometimes 
 
 run them. And he has made good use of his knowledge here. But there is more than 
 
 this in the book ; for ' George Martyn ' has considerable descriptive talent. His account, 
 
 for instance, of the fight between the hero and the butcher is quite good. The story is 
 
 straightforward, convincing, and full of human nature and promise." 
 
 *ddy Of *ri$U)o(d. A Sensational Story. By 
 LEONARD OUTRAM. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 North British Advertiser. " A thrilling tale of love and madness." 
 Whitehall Review. " No one can complain of lack of sensation, it is full of startling 
 episodes. The characters are drawn with a rapid and vigorous touch. The interest 
 is well maintained." 
 
 Court Circular. " It reminds us forcibly of a story in real life that engrossed public 
 attention many years ago. Whether this was in the author's mind we cannot say, but 
 the book is deeply interesting, the characters well and strongly drawn, and we doubt 
 not this tale will fascinate many a reader." 
 
 London Morning- "The story is cleverly constructed, is full of incident with more 
 than a dash of tragedy, and holds the attention of the reader to the close. Dealing with 
 modern life of the higher class, Mr Outram's story is consistent, and though it aims at 
 romantic effect, is not strained or overdrawn." 
 
 Church Gazette. "We can heartily recommend 'The Lady of Criswold." One likes 
 to meet now and again a_ book which forsakes the eternal sex question, or the hair- 
 splitting discussion of ethical or psychological problems, and treats us to simpler and 
 more satisfying fare. . . . There are several good hours' reading in the book, and 
 plenty of excitement of the dramatic order. Another good point is that it is healthy 
 " 
 
 Of Temptation. A Natural Novel by 
 Mrs ALBERT S. BRADSHAW, Author of " False Gods," " Wife or 
 Slave," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2S. 6d. 
 
 Weekly Dispatch. " This is a story full of power and pathos, the strong dramatic 
 interest of which is sustained from the opening chapter to the close." 
 Midland MaiL " The characters are vividly drawn. There are many pleasant and 
 painful incidents in the book, which is interesting from beginning to end." 
 London Morning. " Mrs Albert Bradshaw has done such uniformly good work that 
 we have grown to expect much from her. Her latest book is one which will enhance her 
 reputation, and equally please new and old readers of her novels. It is called ' The 
 Gates of Temptation,' and professes to be a natural novel. The story told is one of deep 
 interest. There is no veneer in its presentation, no artificiality about it." 
 Aberdeen Free Press. " Mrs Bradshaw has written several good novels, and the 
 outstanding feature of all of them has been her skilful development of plot, and her taste- 
 ful, pleasing style. In connection with the present story we are able to amply reiterate 
 those praises. The plot again is well developed and logically carried out, while the 
 language used by the authoress is always happy and well chosen, and never common- 
 place. . . . The story is a very powerful one indeed, and may be highly commended as 
 a piece of painstaking fiction of the very highest kind." 
 
 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road, London, W.C.
 
 Greening & Co., Ltd., Publishers 15 
 
 ^Resurrection of Sfis *race. Being the 
 
 very candid Confessions of the Honourable BERTIE BEAUCLERC. 
 A Sporting Novel. By CAMPBELL RAE-BROWN, Author of 
 " Richard Barlow," " Kissing Cup's Race," etc. Second Im- 
 pression. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Gentlewoman. " Fantastic and impossible, but at the same time amusing. . . . The 
 whole story is strongly dramatic." 
 
 Saturday Review. "A grotesquely improbable story, but readers of sporting novels 
 will find much amusement in it." 
 
 Scotsman. "The book is lightly and briskly written throughout. Its pleasant 
 cynicism is always entertaining." 
 
 Star. " An ingeniously horrible story with a diabolically clever plot." 
 
 St James's Budget. "A sporting romance which is indisputably cleverly written. 
 . . . The book is full of interesting items of sporting life which are fascinating to lovers 
 of the turf." 
 
 Edinburgh Evening News. "It has certainly an audacious idea for its central 
 motive. . . . This bright idea is handled with no little skill, and the interest is kept up 
 breathlessly until the tragic end of the experiment. The whole story has a racy flavour 
 of the turf." 
 
 Sporting Life. "The character of the heartless roue, who tells his story, is very well 
 sustained, and the rich farvenu, Peter Drewitt, the owner of the favourite that is very 
 nearly nobbled by the unscrupulous Beauclerc, is cleverly drawn. Altogether it is an 
 exciting and an uncommon tale, and is quite correct in all the sporting details." 
 
 Tftarsden'd Experiment. An interesting 
 
 Novel. By ELLEN WILLIAMS. Crown Svo, art cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 Outlook. "A good story cleverly told and worked out." 
 
 Echo. "A very natural and interesting tale is carefully set forth in Ellen Williams' 
 clever little book." 
 
 Western Morning News. " It is a smartly written and deeply interesting story, well 
 out of the beaten track of novelists." 
 
 Literary World. " The story is well told. . . . Four racy chapters take us thus far, 
 and seven lively ones follow." 
 
 Public Opinion." From this point the interest in the story is such that there is no 
 putting the book down till the denouement is reached. The writing is smart, clever, 
 and telling." 
 
 Clitic. " A powerful story, unconventional as regards both subject and treatment. 
 [Here the reviewer analyses the plot.] This situation is handled with extraordinary 
 delicacy and skill, and the book is an admirable study of repressed emotions." 
 
 Monitor. " MUi Williams has here seized on an original concept, and given it fitting 
 presentation. The ' experiment ' is a novel one, and us working out is a deft piece of 
 writing. The psychology of the work is faultless, and this study of a beautiful tempera- 
 ment, in a crude frame, has with it the verity of deep observation and acute insight. . . . 
 We await with considerable confidence Miss Williams' next venture." 
 
 Sheffield Independent. " The writer has treated a delicate and unusual situation 
 with delicacy and originality. The heroine's character is drawn with firmness and clear- 
 ness, and the whole story is vivid and picturesque. . . . The history of the experiment 
 is exceedingly well told. Keen insight into character, and cleverness in its delineation, 
 as well as shrewd observation and intense sympathy, mark the writer's work, while the 
 style is terse and clear, and the management of trying scenes extremely good." 
 
 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road, London, W.C.
 
 16 Greening & Co., Ltd., Publishers 
 
 and other Powerful and 
 
 Vividly-Written Stories. By BART KENNEDY, Author of "The 
 Wandering Romanoff," etc. New and cheaper Edition. Crown 
 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Aberdeen Free Press. "Will be welcomed as something fresh in the world of 
 fiction." 
 
 St James's Budget. " A volume characteristic of the author's splendid powers. ' 
 
 M. A. P. " Mr Kennedy writes powerfully, and can grip the reader's imagination, or 
 whirl it off into the strangest domains of glamour and romance at will. . . . There is a 
 future for this clever young man from Tipperary. He will do great things." 
 
 Outlook. " Mr Bart Kennedy is a young writer of singular imaginative gifts, and a 
 style as individual as Mr Kipling's." 
 
 Weekly Dispatch. "The author has exceptional gifts, a strong and powerful 
 individuality, a facile pen, rich imagination, and constructive ability of a high order. 
 This volume ought to find a place on every library shelf." 
 
 Critic. " Of a highly imaginative order, and distinctly out of the ordinary run. . . . 
 The author has a remarkable talent for imaginative and dramatic presentation. He sets 
 before himself a higher standard of achievement than most young writers of fiction." 
 
 Cork Herald. "Gracefully written, easy and attractive in diction and style, the 
 stories are as choice a collection as we have happened on for a long time. They are 
 clever ; they are varied ; they are fascinating. We admit them into the sacred circle of 
 the most beautiful that have been told by the most sympathetic and skilled writers. . . . 
 Mr Kennedy has a stylej and that is rare enough nowadays as refreshing as it is 
 rare." 
 
 the ^Jddfar. " A Story of Literary and 
 Theatrical Life. By S. J. ADAIR FITZ-GERALD. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth, new and cheaper edition, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Graphic. "The volume will please and amuse numberless people." 
 
 Pall Mall Gazette. "A pleasant, cheery story. Displays a rich vein of robust 
 imagination." 
 
 Sun. "Interesting all through, and the inclination is towards finishing it at one 
 sitting." 
 
 Scotsman. "An amusing and entertaining story of Bohemian life in London." 
 
 Standard. "There are many pleasant pages in 'Fame, the Fiddler,' which reminds 
 us of ' Trilby,' with its pictures of Bohemian life, and its happy-go-lucky group of good- 
 hearted, generous scribblers, artists, and playwrights. Some of the characters are so true 
 to life that it is impossible not to recognise them. Among the best incidents in the 
 
 J 
 
 ti 
 
 as well." 
 
 Catholic Times. "We read the volume through, and at the conclusion marvelled at 
 
 astonishing amount of wisdom, and wisdom that is not displayed every day. ... It is a 
 vivid description of times gay and melancholy, that occur in many lives. Mr Fitz-Gerald 
 has done his work well, so well that we loitered on many pages, and closed the book 
 finally with a feeling that it is a faithful history of the journalist, the author, the 
 theatrical individual, and the man who ekes out a living by playing the rSU of all three." 
 
 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road, London, W.C.
 
 Greening & Co., Ltd., Publishers 17 
 
 CHEAPER FICTION 
 
 f^" t 
 
 /Olid. A Collection of smart, up-to-date Tales 
 
 of Modern Life, written, edited and selected by FRANK M. BOYD 
 (Editor of "The Pelican.") One of the most popular and enter- 
 taining volumes of short stories that has ever been published. An 
 ideal companion for a railway journey or a spare hour or two. 
 Crown 8vo, picture wrapper designed and drawn by W. S. ROGERS, 
 is. (In active preparation.) 
 
 e@l)i{ M a JuOtninO. A Psychological Mystery. 
 By CHAS. L'EpiNE, Author of "The Lady of the Leopard," 
 "Miracle Plays," etc. Cover designed by C. H. BEAUVAIS. 
 Long I2mo, cloth, is. 
 
 Tmth. "The story is written with remarkable literary skill, and, notwithstanding its 
 
 gruesomeness, is undeniably fascinating." 
 
 Sketch. " It is a well-written story. An admirable literary style, natural and concise 
 
 construction, succeed in compelling the reader's attention through every line. We hope 
 
 to welcome the author again, working on a larger scene." 
 
 Star. " May be guaranteed to disturb your night's rest. It is a gruesome, ghastly, 
 
 blood-curdling, hair-erecting, sleep-murdering piece of work, with a thrill on every page. 
 
 Read it." 
 
 Sunday Chronicle. "A very clever study by 'Charles L'Epine,' who should by his 
 
 style be an accomplished author not unknown in other ranks of literature. Beyond 
 
 comparison it is the strongest shilling shocker we have read for many a day. The author 
 
 has succeeded in heaping horror upon horror until one's blood is curdled." 
 
 and other Frivolous 
 
 and Fantastic Tales, for River, Road and Rail. By S. J. ADAIR 
 FITZ-GERALD. Long i2mo, cloth, is. 
 
 The Scotsman. "The widow is a charmingly wicked person. The stories are well 
 
 written, with a pleasant humour of a farcical sort ; they are never dull." 
 
 Whitehall Review.- " Written with all the dash and ease which Mr Fitz-Gerald has 
 
 accustomed us to in his journalistic work. There is a breezy, invigorating style about 
 
 this little book which will make it a favourite on the bookstalls." 
 
 Glasgow Herald. "Nonsense, genial harmless nonsense, to which the most captious 
 
 and morose of readers will find it difficult to refuse the tribute of a broad smile, even if he 
 
 can so far restrain himself as not to burst out into genuine laughter." 
 
 The Referee." Another little humorous book is ' That Fascinating Widow,' by Mr S. 
 
 J. Adair Fitz-Gerald, who can be very funny when he tries. The story which gives the 
 
 title to the book would make a capital farce. ' The Blue-blooded Coster ' is an amusing 
 
 piece of buffoonery." 
 
 The Globe. "The author, Mr S. J. Adair Fitz-Gerald, has already shown himself to be 
 
 the possessor of a store of humour, on which he has again drawn for the furnishing of the 
 
 little volume he has just put together. Among the tales included are several which might 
 
 be suitable for reading or recitation, and none which are dull. Mr Fitz-Gerald frankly 
 
 addresses himself to that portion of the public which desires nothing so much as to be 
 
 amused, and likes even its amusements in small doses. Such a public will entertain it -elf 
 
 very pleasantly with Mr Fitz-Gerald's lively tales, and will probably name as its favourites 
 
 those titled ' Pure Cussedness,' ' Splidgings First Baby,' and ' The Blue-blooded Coster.'" 
 
 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road, London, W.C.
 
 1 8 Greening & Co., Ltd., Publishers 
 
 A Series of Side Lights on Modern Society. 
 By ERNEST MARTIN. (Dedicated to Sir Henry Irving.) Crown 
 8vo, art cloth, gilt tops, 2s. 
 
 Phoenix " ' Shadows' is a very clever work." 
 
 Western Mercury. "Clever sketches, intensely dramatic, original and forceful, 
 based on scenes from actual life, and narrated with much skill." 
 
 Weekly Times. " A series of pictures sketched with considerable power. The last 
 one, ' Hell in Paradise,' is terrible in the probable truth of conception." 
 
 Northern Figaro. "Mr Martin's descriptive paragraphs are couched in trenchant, 
 convincing language, without a superfluous word sandwiched in anywhere. 
 ' Shadows ' may be read with much profit, and will give more than a superficial insight 
 into various phases of society life and manners." 
 
 and the TUfoman. A Powerful Tale. By 
 
 ARNOLD GOLSWORTHY. Picture cover drawn by SYDNEY H. 
 SYME. Crown 8vo, is. 
 
 Scotsman. "A cleverly constructed story about a murder and a gang of diamond 
 robbers. . . . The tale never has to go far without a strong situation. It is a capital 
 book for a railway journey." 
 
 Star. "A good shilling's worth of highly coloured sensationalism. Those readers who 
 want a good melodramatic story smartly told, Mr Golsworthys latest effort will suit down 
 to the ground." 
 
 Literary World. "We do not remember having read a book that possessed the 
 quality of grip in a greater degree than is the case with 'Death and the Woman.' . . 
 Every page of every chapter develops the interest, which culminates in one of the most 
 sensational denouements it has been our lot to read. The flavour of actuality is not 
 destroyed by any incredible incident ; it is the inevitable thing that always happens. 
 ' Death and the Woman ' will supply to the brim the need of those in search of a holding 
 drama of modern London life." 
 
 A Mystery and its 
 
 Solution. A Detective Story. By RIVINGTON PYKE, Author of 
 "The Man who Disappeared." Long iamo, cloth, is. 
 
 Whitehall Review. " Those who love a mystery with plenty of ' go,' and a story 
 which is not devoid of a certain amount of realism, cannot do better than pick up ' Fellow- 
 Passengers.' The characters are real men and women, and not the sentimental and 
 artificial puppets to which we have been so long accustomed by our sensationalists. The 
 book is brightly written, and of detective stories it is the best I have read lately.", 
 
 Weekly Dispatch. "If you want a diverting story of realism, bordering upon 
 actuality, you cannot do better than take up this bright, vivacious, dramatic volume. It 
 will interest you from first page to last." 
 
 Catholic Times. " This is a well-written story, with a good plot and plenty of 
 incident. From cover to cover there is not a dull page, and the interest keeps up to the 
 end." 
 
 Glasgow NeWS." It is a thriller. . . . The sort of book one cannot help finishing at 
 a sitting, not merely because it is short, but because it rivets. . . . The author uses his 
 materials with great ingenuity, his plot is cleverly devised, and he very effectively works 
 up to a striking denouement." 
 
 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road, London, W.C.
 
 Greening & Co., Ltd., Publishers 19 
 
 Illustrated Books for Children 
 
 ?l entente ?lumder6 and tfocufar ffi 
 
 FOR FUNNY LITTLE FOLK. Written by DRUID GRAYL, with full- 
 page Illustrations by WALTER J. MORGAN. 410, cloth boards, 53. 
 
 *rand Panjandrum, and other fanciful Fairy 
 Tales for the youthful of all Ages, Climes and Times. By S. J. 
 ADAIR FITZ-GERALD, Author of "The Zankiwank and the 
 Bletherwitch," "The Wonders of the Secret Cavern," "The 
 Mighty Toltec," etc. Many full-page and smaller Illustrations by 
 GUSTAVE DARRE. Second Edition. Square 8vo, art cloth, gilt, 
 33. 6d. 
 
 Truth. "A decided acquisition to the children's library." 
 
 Ladies' Pictorial" Quite one of the brightest of the season's gift books." 
 
 Spectator. " Well provided with fun and fancy." 
 
 Morning Post. "Bright and thoroughly amusing. It will please all children. The 
 pictures are excellent." 
 
 Echo. " Of the pile (of children's books) before us, Mr Adair Fitz-Gerald's ' Grand 
 Panjandrum ' is the cleverest. Mr Fitz-Gerald needs no introduction to the nursery of 
 these days." 
 
 Times." Very fanciful." 
 
 ChUTCh News. "This is one of the most delightful books of nonsense we have read 
 since we welcomed ' The Wallypug of Why.' " 
 
 Scotsman. '' Will make the eyes of readers open wide with wonder and delight. " 
 Lloyd's. " Will amuse all children lucky enough to get this neat and pretty volume." 
 
 Pall Mall Gazette. " A charming little book. Simply written, and therefore to be 
 comprehended of the youthful mind. It will be popular, for the writer has a power of 
 pleasing which is rare. 
 
 Literary World. "A handsomely bound, mouth-watering, in every way up-to-date 
 volume, written especially for and on behalf of the toddler or the newly breeched." 
 
 People. "A delightful story for children, something in the style of ' Alice in Wonder- 
 land,' but also having some flavour of Kingley's ' Water Babies.' " 
 
 Sun. "Good fairy stories are a source of everlasting joy and delight. Mr Adair 
 Fitz-Gerald breaks fresh ground and writes pleasantly. . . . The book has the added 
 advantage of being charmingly illustrated in colour by Gustave DarreV' 
 
 Nottingham Guardian. ' It is a merry book, and should keep the nursery in a good 
 humour for hours. It is artistically got up, the illustrations by Air Gustave Darr being 
 of a high order of merit." 
 
 Manchester Courier." It should prove a great favourite with young people, being 
 written by one who evidently takes the utmost interest in them and their ways. The 
 full-page illustrations are very pretly." 
 
 Weekly Sun. "Mr Adair Fitz-Gerald is a well-known writer of fairy stories and 
 humorous books for the young. ' The Grand Panjandrum ' is just the sort of book to 
 please youngsters of all ages, being full of pleasant imaginings, and introducing its 
 readers to a host of curious people." 
 
 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road, London, W.C.
 
 20 Greening & Co., Ltd., Publishers 
 
 Greening's Humorous Books 
 
 riffypingfe jradforafy. A series of Amusing 
 
 Rustic Tales and Sketches. By DRUID GRAYL. Profusely Illus- 
 trated by WALTER J. MORGAN. Crown 8vo, art cloth, 35. 6d. 
 
 . Written by TRISTRAM COUTTS, 
 
 Author of "A Comedy of Temptation." Illustrated by L. RAVEN 
 HILL. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 THE POTTLE PAPERS, the fourth edition of which is just ready, is a really funny 
 book written by Saul Smiff, and illustrated by Mr L. Raven Hill. " Anyone who wants a 
 good laugh should get ' The Pottle Papers,' " says the Sheffield Daily Telegraph. 
 "They are very droll reading for an idle afternoon, or picking up at any time when 
 ' down in the dumps.' They are very brief and very bright, and it is impossible for any- 
 one with the slightest sense of humour to read the book without bursting into ' the loud 
 guffaw ' which does not always ' bespeak the empty mind.' " The Pall Mall Gazette 
 says it contains " Plenty of boisterous humour of the Max Adeler kind . . . humour that 
 is genuine and spontaneous. The author, for all his antics, has a good deal more in 
 him than the average buffoon. There is, for example, a very clever and subtle strain of 
 feeling running through the comedy in ' The Love that Burned ' a rather striking bit of 
 work. Mr Raven Hill's illustrations are as amusing as they always are." The St 
 James's Budget accorded this book a very long notice, and reproduced some of the 
 pictures. The reviewer said : "Who says the sense of humour is dead when we have 
 'The Pottle Papers'? We can put the book down with the feeling that we have spent 
 a very enjoyable hour and laughed immoderately. ' The Pottle Papers ' will be in 
 everybody's hands before long." H.R.H. the Prince of Wales honoured the author by 
 accepting a copy of his book ; and the Court Circular remarked : "The Prince of 
 Wales has accepted a copy of Saul SmifFs delightfully merry book, ' The Pottle Papers.' 
 The Prince is sure to enjoy Raven Hill's clever sketches." This funniest of funny 
 books is published at zs. 6d., strongly bound in cloth. 
 
 *?nO, Jfl/6 JSoOJte. A Volume of Frivoli- 
 ties : Autobiographical, Historical, Philosophical, Anecdotal and 
 Nonsensical. Written by DAN LEND. Profusely illustrated by 
 Sidney H. Sime, Frank Chesworth, W. S. Rogers, Gustave 
 Darre", Alfred Bryan and Dan Leno. Fifth Edition, containing a 
 New Chapter, and an Appreciation of Dan Leno, written by 
 Clement Scott. Crown 8vo, art cloth, gilt edges, 2s. Popular 
 Edition, sewed, picture cover, is. 
 
 enormously successful book of genuine and spontaneous humour has been received with a 
 complete chorus of complimentary criticisms and pleasing " Press " praise and approval. 
 Here are a few reviewers' remarks: "Bombshells of fun." Scotsman. "One long 
 laugh from start to finish." Lloyd's. '' Full of exuberant and harmless fun." Globe. 
 "A deliciously humorous volume." English Illustrated Magazine. " The fun is 
 fast and furious." Catholic Times. " It is very funny." St Paul's. These are a 
 few opinions taken at random from hundreds of notices. Says the Daily News (Hull) : 
 11 The funniest book we have read for some time. You must perforce scream with huge 
 delight at the dry sayings and writings of the funny little man who has actually killed 
 people with his patter and his antics. Page after page of genuine fun is reeled off by the 
 great little man." 
 
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 and other Lazy Lyrics. By 
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 A BOOK OF GREAT INTEREST. 
 
 AT ALL BOOKSELLERS AND LIBRARIES. SECOND EDITION. 
 
 RUDYARD KIPLING: 
 
 THE MAN AND HIS WORK. 
 
 Being an Attempt at Appreciation. By G. F. MONKSHOOD. 
 With a Portrait of Mr Kipling, and an Autograph Letter to 
 
 the Author in facsimile. 
 Crown 8vo, crimson buckram, gilt top, 5/= nett. 
 
 A FEW OF MANY PRESS OPINIONS 
 Daily Telegraph. (Mr W. L. COURTNEY in " Books of the Day.") " He 
 
 writes fluently, and has genuine enthusiasm for his subject, and an intimate acquaint- 
 ance with his work. Moreover, his book has been submitted to Mr Kipling, whose 
 characteristic letter to the author is set forth in the Preface. ... Of Mr Kipling's 
 heroes Mr Monkshood has a thorough understanding, and his remarks on them are 
 worth quoting." (Here follows a long extract.) 
 
 Scotsman. "This well-informed volume ... is plainly sincere. It is thoroughly 
 well studied, and takes pains to answer all the questions that are usually put about 
 Mr Kipling. The writer's enthusiasm carries both himself and his reader along in 
 the most agreeable style. . . . One way and another, his book is full of interest ; 
 those who wish to talk about Mr Kipling will find it invaluable, while the thousands 
 of his admirers will read it through with delighted sympathy." 
 
 Western Daily Press. "A very praiseworthy attempt, and by a writer imbued 
 with a fervent esteem for his subject. . . . This valuation of the work of our most 
 virile Empire author should hold the attention of those who have well studied the 
 subject and can appreciate accordingly." 
 
 Sun " The author has carefully compiled a lot of most interesting matter, which 
 he has edited with care and conscientiousness, and the result is a volume which every 
 lover of Kipling can read with pleasure." 
 
 Spectator. "It is very readable. It tells us some things which we might not 
 otherwise have known, and puts together in a convenient form many things which 
 are of common knowledge." 
 
 Outlook. "SOMETHING MORE than an attempt at appreciation. ... Mr 
 Monkshood has written what all the young men at home and abroad who treasure 
 Mr Kipling's writings think, but have not expressed. The volume is a striking 
 testimony to the hold which work that is clean and sane and virile has upon the 
 rising generation. And for this we cannot be sufficiently thankful." 
 
 Globe. "It has at the basis both knowledge and enthusiasm knowledge of the 
 works estimated and enthusiasm for them. . . . This book may be accepted as a 
 generous exposition of Mr Kipling's merits as a writer. We can well believe that it 
 will have many interested and approving readers." 
 
 Irish Times. "A well-thought-out and earnest appreciation of the great writer 
 and his works." 
 
 Academy. " The book should give its subject pleasure, for Mr Monkshood is 
 very keen and cordial. His criticisms have some shrewdness too. Here is a 
 passage . . ." (Long quotation follows.) 
 
 Sunday Times. " Sure to attact much attention. In it we are given a sketch 
 of Mr Kipling's career and the story of his various works, along with some sane 
 and balanced criticism. . . . The book is written brightly, thoughtfully, and 
 informingly." 
 
 Bookseller. " It is acute in perception, and sympathetic to the verge of 
 worship, with just as much criticism as will allow that the hero has his limitations. 
 . . . Mr Monkshpod's well-informed and well-written critique possesses undoubted 
 ability and attraction." 
 
 Yorkshire Herald. " This work, which is highly appreciative, will be received 
 with enthusiasm. . . . From this point the biography becomes even more interesting. 
 . . . The author deals .-it length with Kipling's works, and with sufficient forceful- 
 ness and originality to hold the reader's attention throughout. The biography has 
 undoubted merit and will be largely read." 
 
 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road, London, W.C.
 
 Greening & Co., Ltd., Publishers 
 
 INDEX 
 
 ADAMS, Herbert 
 
 A Virtue of Necessity . 
 ALEXANDER, Geo. 
 
 Introduction to " Art of Elocution " 
 America Abroad (J. W. Cundall) 
 Anna Marsden's Experiment (Ellen 
 
 Williams) 
 
 Asmodens (edited by Justin Hannaford) 
 Ashes Tell no Tales (Mrs A. S. Brad- 
 
 shaw) 
 
 ASCHER, Isidore G. 
 
 A Social Upheaval . . 
 
 B 
 
 Bachelor Ballads (H. A. Spurr) . 
 BECKFORD, Geo. 
 
 Vathek 
 
 Bible Stories Retold .... 
 BRADSHAW, Mrs Albert S. 
 
 Ashes Tell no Tales 
 
 Gates of Temptation 
 Bye - ways of Crime (R. J. Power- 
 Berrey) 
 
 C 
 
 CARNIE, T. West 
 
 In Quaint East Anglia . 
 Comedy of Temptation (T. Coutts) . 
 COUTTS, Tristram 
 
 Pottle Papers .... 
 
 Comedy of Temptation 
 
 Pottle's Progress .... 
 CUNDALL, J. W. 
 
 London 
 
 America Abroad .... 
 Cry in the Night (A. Golsworthy) 
 
 DANIELS, Heber 
 
 Dona Rufina 
 
 Darab's Wine-Cup (B. Kennedy) 
 Dan Leno, Hys Booke (Dan Leno) . 
 Death and the Woman (A. Gols- 
 worthy) 
 
 Devil in a Domino (C. L'Epine) . 
 Devil on Two Sticks (Le Sage) . 
 DE BRMONT, Comtesse 
 
 A Son of Africa .... 
 
 The Gentleman Digger 
 DE SOISSON 
 
 The Path of the Soul . 
 Dolomite Cavern (W. P. Kelly) . 
 Dona Rufina (Heber Daniels) . 
 
 East Anglia, In Quaint (T. W. Carnie) 
 "ENGLISH WRITERS OF TO-DAY" 
 Series 
 
 Rudyard Kipling (G. F. Monks- 
 hood) ...... 
 
 Thomas Hardy (W. L. Courtney) 
 Geo. Meredith (Walter Jerrold) . 
 Bret Harte (T. E. Pemberton) . 
 Richard Le Gallienne(C. R. Gull) 
 Arthur Wing Pinero (H. Fyffe) . 
 W. E. Henley (G. Gamble) . 
 English Parnassian School (Sir G. 
 
 Douglas) 
 
 Realistic Writers (J. Hannaford) 
 
 ESCOTT, T. H. S. 
 
 A Trip to Paradoxia 
 
 Elocution, The Art of (Ross Fer- 
 guson) 
 
 Epicurean, The (edited by Justin 
 Hannaford 
 
 Fame, the Fiddler (S. J. A. Fitz- 
 Gerald) 
 
 Famous Hamlets (C. Scott) 
 
 FERGUSON, Ross 
 
 The Art of Elocution . 
 
 Fetters of Fire (Compton Reade) 
 
 Fellow- Passengers (R. Pyke) 
 
 FITZ-GERALD, S. J. Adair 
 Fame, the Fid_dler 
 That Fascinating Widow 
 The Grand Panjandrum . . 
 
 GALT, John 
 
 Ringan Gilhaize 
 Gates of Temptation, The (Mrs A. S. 
 
 Bradshaw) 
 
 Gentleman Digger, The (Comtesse de 
 
 Bremont) 
 
 Girl of the North, A (K. Milicite) 
 GOLSWORTHY, Arnold 
 
 A Cry in the Night 
 
 Death and the Woman . 
 GRAYL, Druid 
 
 Nonsense Numbers, etc. 
 
 Pillypingle Pastorals . 
 Grand Panjandrum, The (S. J. A. 
 
 Fitz-Gerald) .... 
 GREEN, Percy B. 
 
 A History of Nurserv Rhymes 
 Green Passion (A. P. Vert) . 
 Guides, etc 
 
 H 
 
 HALL, Sydney 
 
 Temptation of Edith Watson 
 Hamlets, Some Famous (C. Scott) 
 HERMAN, Henry 
 
 The Sword of Fate 
 Hypocrite, The (Anonymous) 
 
 In Monte Carlo (H. Sienkiewicz) 
 
 In Quaint East Anglia (T. W. Carnie) 
 
 Jocular Jingles (Druid Grayl) 
 JOHNSON, Dr 
 Rasselas 
 
 K 
 
 KELLY, W. Patrick 
 
 The Dolomite Cavern . 
 KENNEDY, Bart 
 
 A Man Adrift 
 
 Darab's Wine-Cup 
 
 The Wandering Romanoff 
 
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