Whatever might have been his past, however, soon she found that he was an extremely able and agreeable man.  It was he and no other who had painted the water-colours that adorned her room, and he could play and sing as well as he painted.  Also, as Robert had told her, Mr. Meyer was very well-read in subjects that are not usually studied on the veld of South Africa; indeed, he had quite a library of books, most of them histories or philosophical and scientific works, of which he would lend her volumes.  Fiction, however, he never read, for the reason, he told her, that he found life itself and the mysteries and problems which surround it so much more interesting.

One evening, when they were walking together by the lake, watching the long lights of sunset break and quiver upon its surface, Benita’s curiosity overcame her, and she asked him boldly how it happened that such a man as he was content to live the life he did.

“In order that I may reach a better,” he answered.  “Oh! no, not in the skies, Miss Clifford, for of them I know nothing, nor, as I believe, is there anything to know.  But here—­here.”

“What do you mean by a better life, Mr. Meyer?”

“I mean,” he answered, with a flash of his dark eyes, “great wealth, and the power that wealth brings.  Ah!  I see you think me very sordid and materialistic, but money is God in this world, Miss Clifford—­money is God.”

She smiled and answered:  “I fear, then, that he is likely to prove an invisible god on the high veld, Mr. Meyer.  You will scarcely make a great fortune out of horse-breeding, and here there is no one to rule.”

“Do you suppose, then, that is why I stop at Rooi Krantz, just to breed horses?  Has not your father told you about the great treasure hidden away up there among the Makalanga?”

“I have heard something of it,” she answered with a sigh.  “Also that both of you went to look for it and were disappointed.”

“Ah!  The Englishman who was drowned—­Mr. Seymour—­he spoke of it, did he not?  He found us there.”

“Yes; and you wished to shoot him—­do you remember?”

“God in Heaven!  Yes, because I thought he had come to rob us.  Well, I did not shoot, and afterwards we were hunted out of the place, which does not much matter, as those fools of natives refused to let us dig in the fortress.”

“Then why do you still think about this treasure which probably does not exist?”

“Why, Miss Clifford, do you think about various things that probably do not exist?  Perhaps because you feel that here or elsewhere they do exist.  Well, that is what I feel about the treasure, and what I have always felt.  It exists, and I shall find it—­now.  I shall live to see more gold than you can even imagine, and that is why I still continue to breed horses on the Transvaal veld.  Ah! you laugh; you think it is a nightmare that I breed——­”

Then suddenly he became aware of Sally, who had appeared over the fold of the rise behind them, and asked irritably: