“I’ve been robbed and assaulted,” Ezra said, steadying himself against the mantelpiece, for he was still weak and giddy.  “Don’t all start cackling, but do what I ask you.  Light the lamp!”

The lamp was lit, and there was a murmur from the little knot of employees, reinforced by some late loungers at the bar, as they saw the disordered room and the great crimson patch upon the carpet.

“The thieves called at nine,” said Ezra, talking rapidly, but collectedly.  “Their names were Farintosh, Burt, and Williams.  We talked for, some little time, so they probably did not leave the house before a quarter past at the soonest.  It is now half-past ten, so they have no very great start.  You, Jamieson, and you, Van Muller, run out and find if three men have been seen getting away.  Perhaps they took a buggy.  Go up and down, and ask all you see.  You, Jones, go as hard as you can to Inspector Ainslie.  Tell him there has been robbery and attempted murder, and say that I want half a dozen of his best mounted men—­not his best men, you understand, but his best horses.  I shall see that he is no loser if he is smart.  Where’s my servant Pete?  Pete, you dog, get my horse saddled and bring her round.  She ought to be able to catch anything in Griqualand.”

As Ezra gave his orders the men hurried off in different directions to carry them out.  He himself commenced to arrange his dress, and tied a handkerchief tightly round his head.

“Surely you are not going, sir?” the landlord said, “You are not fit.”

“Fit or not, I am going,” Ezra said resolutely.  “If I have to be strapped to my horse I’ll go.  Send me up some brandy.  Put some in a flask, too.  I may feel faint before I get back.”

A great concourse of people had assembled by this time, attracted by the report of the robbery.  The whole square in front of the hotel was crowded with diggers and store-keepers and innumerable Kaffirs, all pressing up to the portico in the hope of hearing some fresh details.  Mr. Hector O’Flaherty, over the way, was already busy setting up his type in preparation for a special edition, in which the Vaal River Advertiser should give its version of the affair.  In the office the great man himself, who was just convalescing from an attack of ardent spirits, was busily engaged, with a wet towel round his head, writing a leader upon the event.  This production, which was very sonorous and effective, was peppered all over with such phrases as “protection of property,” “outraged majesty of the law,” and “scum of civilization”—­ expressions which had been used so continuously by Mr. O’Flaherty, that he had come to think that he had a copyright in them, and loudly accused the London papers of plagiarism if he happened to see them in their columns.

There was a buzz of excitement among the crowd when Ezra appeared on the steps of the hotel, looking as white as a sheet, with a handkerchief bound round his head and his collar all crusted with blood.  As he mounted his horse one of his emissaries rushed to him.