“I must speak to Anscombe,” I answered.  “The money at stake was his, not mine.”

“Speak to whom you will,” he replied, and I noted that the throbbing vein upon his forehead indicated a rising temper.  “But never let me see those diamonds again.  Throw them into the gutter if you wish, but never let me see them again, or there will be trouble.”

Then he flung out of the room, leaving his breakfast almost untasted.

Reflecting that this queer old bird probably did not wish to be cross-questioned as to his possession of so many uncut diamonds, or that they were worth much less than the sum he had lost, or possibly that they were not diamonds at all but glass, I went to report the matter to Anscombe.  He only laughed and said that as I had got the things I had better keep them until something happened, for we had both got it into our heads that something would happen before we had done with that establishment.

So I went to put the stones away as safely as I could.  While I was doing so I heard the rumble of wheels, and came out just in time to see a Cape cart, drawn by four very good horses and driven by a Hottentot in a smart hat and a red waistband, pull up at the garden gate.  Out of this cart presently emerged a neatly dressed lady, of whom all I could see was that she was young, slender and rather tall; also, as her back was towards me, that she had a great deal of auburn hair.

“There!” said Anscombe.  “I knew that something would happen.  Heda has happened.  Quatermain, as neither her venerated parent nor her loving fiance, for such I gather he is, seems to be about, you had better go and give her a hand.”

I obeyed with a groan, heartily wishing that Heda hadn’t happened, since some sense warned me that she would only add to the present complications.  At the gate, having given some instructions to a very stout young coloured woman who, I took it, was her maid, about a basket of flower roots in the cart, she turned round suddenly and we came face to face with the gate between us.  For a moment we stared at each other, I reflecting that she really was very pretty with her delicately-shaped features, her fresh, healthy-looking complexion, her long dark eyelashes and her lithe and charming figure.  What she reflected about me I don’t know, probably nothing half so complimentary.  Suddenly, however, her large greyish eyes grew troubled and a look of alarm appeared upon her face.

“Is anything wrong with my father?” she asked.  “I don’t see him.”

“If you mean Mr. Marnham,” I replied, lifting my hat, “I believe that Dr. Rodd and he—­”

“Never mind about Dr. Rodd,” she broke in with a contemptuous little jerk of her chin, “how is my father?”

“I imagine much as usual.  He and Dr. Rodd were here a little while ago, I suppose that they have gone out” (as a matter of fact they had, but in different directions).

“Then that’s all right,” she said with a sigh of relief.  “You see, I heard that he was very ill, which is why I have come back.”