“You lie!” said Meyer sullenly.  “You want to turn me out into the wilderness to be murdered by the Makalanga or the Matabele.”

“Very well,” said Robert.  “Untie him, boys, and bring him along.  I will show him whether I lie.”

“Where are they taking me to?” asked Meyer.  “Not into the cave?  I won’t go into the cave; it is haunted.  If it hadn’t been for the ghost there I would have broken down their wall long ago, and killed that old snake before her eyes.  Whenever I went near that wall I saw it watching me.”

“First time I ever heard of a ghost being useful,” remarked Robert.  “Bring him along.  No, Benita, he shall see whether I am a liar.”

So the lights were lit, and the two stalwart Zulus hauled Jacob forward, Robert and Benita following.  At first he struggled violently, then, on finding that he could not escape, went on, his teeth chattering with fear.

“It is cruel,” remonstrated Benita.

“A little cruelty will not do him any harm,” Robert answered.  “He has plenty to spare for other people.  Besides, he is going to get what he has been looking for so long.”

They led Jacob to the foot of the crucifix, where a paroxysm seemed to seize him, then pushed him through the swinging doorway beneath, and down the steep stairs, till once more they all stood in the treasure-chamber.

“Look,” said Robert, and, drawing his hunting-knife, he slashed one of the hide bags, whereon instantly there flowed out a stream of beads and nuggets.  “Now, my friend, am I a liar?” he asked.

At this wondrous sight Jacob’s terror seemed to depart from him, and he grew cunning.

“Beautiful, beautiful!” he said, “more than I thought—­sacks and sacks of gold.  I shall be a king indeed.  No, no, it is all a dream—­like the rest.  I don’t believe it’s there.  Loose my arms and let me feel it.”

“Untie him,” said Robert, at the same time drawing his pistol and covering the man; “he can’t do us any hurt.”

The Kaffirs obeyed, and Jacob, springing at the slashed bag, plunged his thin hands into it.

“No lie,” he screamed, “no lie,” as he dragged the stuff out and smelt at it.  “Gold, gold, gold!  Hundreds of thousands of pounds’ worth of gold!  Let’s make a bargain, Englishman, and I won’t kill you as I meant to do.  You take the girl and give me all the gold,” and in his ecstasy he began to pour the glittering ingots over his head and body.

“A new version of the tale of Danae,” began Robert in a sarcastic voice, then suddenly paused, for a change had come over Jacob’s face, a terrible change.