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A Dash from Diamond City, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 11. Another Search |
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_ CHAPTER ELEVEN. ANOTHER SEARCH "That's just what I'm going to do, Master Anson," was the reply, given sternly. "All right," said Anson nonchalantly. "Search away; but, if I was in the police and had a good tip given me as to where the plunder I was after had been planted, I don't think I should waste time hunting blind leads, and letting the real culprits have plenty of time to get away." "But then you are not in the police, sir," said the superintendent, with a nod. "So first of all I'll let my men run over you and your Kaffirs." "Wait till I've lit a cigar first," said Anson, taking out a case, and then laughing, for the police officer was watching him keenly. "That's right; there are three or four diamonds in every one of these cigars, and as I smoke you'll notice that I don't burn much of the end I light, but that I keep on biting off bits of the leaf till I get to the diamonds, and then I swallow them." He held out his cigar-case, and the superintendent took it and began to feel the cigars, till Anson burst out laughing. "Don't pinch them too hard," he cried, "or you'll break them, and then they won't draw." The officer returned the cigar-case with an angry ejaculation, and glanced round as if hesitating where to begin, while the horses of his men began to imitate the action of the oxen, nibbling away at the rich grass surrounding the pleasant spring. "I say, Robert," said Anson, and the superintendent started at the familiar nickname: "I'd look smart over the business, for the Boers have been here lately to water their horses, and if they should by any chance come back it might mean a journey for you and your men to Pretoria." "And you too, if they did come," said the officer surlily. "Oh, I don't know," said Anson airily. "I don't believe they would stop a man with an empty wagon going south on a peaceful journey." "They'd take you and your wagon and span, sir," said the officer sternly. "Look here, I don't believe the Boers would behave half so badly to me as my own people have done. But aren't you going to search?" "Yes," said the superintendent sharply. "Your rifle, please." Anson unslung it from where it hung in the wagon, and the officer took it, examined the stock and the plate at the end of the butt, to be sure that there were no secret places scooped out of the wood, before he opened the breech and withdrew the ball cartridges, holding the empty barrels up to his eyes. "That's right," cried Anson; "but have a good look round for squalls--I mean Boers. Gun-barrels don't make half bad things to squint through when you haven't got a binocular." "Bah!" said the superintendent angrily, replacing the cartridges and closing the breech with a snap. "But you have a pair of glasses slung across your shoulder, sir. Have the goodness to pass the case here." Anson obeyed willingly enough, giving his slung case up for the rifle that was returned. "There you are," he said, "and when you've done I suppose you'd like to search my clothes and my skin. But I haven't anything there, and I haven't cut myself to slip diamonds inside my hide, and there are none in my ears or boots." "It's my duty to have you searched all the same," said the superintendent. "Here, two of you go carefully over Mr Anson, while you three hitch up your horses there and make a close search throughout the wagon." Anson chuckled as the men began promptly to pass their hands over his clothes, turn out his pockets, and haul off his boots, their chief, after satisfying himself that the binocular case had no false bottom or precious stones inside the instrument itself, looking searchingly on. Satisfied at last that his captive had nothing concealed about him, and frowning heavily at the malicious grin of contempt in which Anson indulged, the superintendent turned to the men examining the oxen so as to satisfy himself that none of the heavy dull brutes had been provided with false horns riveted over their own and of greater length so as to allow room for a few diamonds in each. Then the dissel boom was examined to see if it had been bored out somewhere and plugged to cover the illicitly-acquired diamonds thrust in. But no: the great pole of the wagon was perfectly solid; there were no stones stuck in the grease used to anoint the wheels; there was no sign anywhere outside the wagon of boring or plugging; and at last the superintendent, after carefully avoiding Anson's supercilious grin, turned to give a final look round before giving up the search. Was there anywhere else likely? Yes; there were the bags of mealies and the water-cask slung beneath the wain, both nearly full, the cask to give forth a sound when it was shaken, and the sacks ready to be emptied out upon a wagon sheet and shed their deep buff-coloured grains, hard, clean, and sweet, in a great heap, which was spread out more and more till they were about two deep, but showed not a sign of a smuggled stone. "Fill the bags again, my lads," said the police superintendent, "and let's have a look at what's inside the wagon." "We've searched everything there," said a sergeant gruffly. "I have not," replied the superintendent sharply. "Let me see." "But you haven't looked in the water-cask," said Anson mockingly; "turn the water out on to the wagon sheet. It won't stay there, of course; but we can easily get some more. Do you think diamonds would melt in water?" "Try one and see," cried the superintendent angrily, as he turned away, to stand looking on while every article that could by any possibility have been made to act as a vehicle to hide smuggled diamonds had been examined and replaced. "We've been sold, eh?" said the sergeant, looking up in his superintendent's eyes at last. "It seems like it," was the reply. "There's nothing here." Just then Anson, who had been lighting a fresh cigar, came up to him smilingly. "Haven't done, have you?" he said. "Yes: quite," was the gruff reply. "Oh, I am sorry you haven't had better luck," said Anson, in a mock sympathetic tone. "It must be terribly disappointing, after expecting to make a big capture." "Very," said the superintendent, looking the speaker searchingly in the eyes. "Well, I said something to you before, but you took no notice." "Oh yes, I did." "But you didn't act on my tip. It seems like playing the sneak, but that's what they did to me, so I don't mind paying them back in their own coin." "Pay whom?" "The two who informed on me to save their own skins." "I do not understand you." "Oh dear, what fools you clever men are!" "What do you mean?" "Bah! And you call yourself a police officer. I'd make a better one out of a Dutch doll." "Once more, what do you mean?" "Rub the dust out of your eyes, man." "There's none there." "Tchah! Your eyes are full of the dust those two threw there. Can't you see?" "No." "Well, I am surprised at you," cried Anson; "and after such a hint too! Can't you see that they've been a-playing upon you--setting you off on a blind lead to keep your attention while they went off with a big parcel of diamonds?" "What! West and Ingleborough?" "To be sure! What should they want to volunteer for, and risk capture by the Boers, if they hadn't something to gain by it?" "Well, they had something to gain--honour and promotion." "Pish!" cried Anson; "they want something better than that! You've been had, squire. You've been set to catch poor innocent, lamb-like me, and all the while those two foxes have been stealing away with the plunder." "What!" cried the superintendent. "I spoke plainly enough," said Anson, smiling pleasantly. "Yes, you spoke plainly enough," said the superintendent; "but it's nothing to laugh at, sir." "Why, it's enough to make a cat laugh. Well, I wish you better luck," said Anson, "and if you do catch up to Oliver West I hope you'll slip the handcuffs on him at once and make him part with his smuggled swag." "You may trust me for that," said the superintendent grimly. "I shall," said Anson, smiling broadly. "Glad you came after me, so that I could put you on the right track." "So am I," said the police officer, with a peculiar look. "And I'm sorry I cut up so rough," continued Anson, smiling, as he apologised; "but you know, it isn't nice to be stopped and overhauled as I have been." "Of course it isn't," said the officer drily; "but in my profession one can't afford to study people's feelings." "No, no, of course not. But don't apologise." "I was not going to," said the superintendent; "I'm sorry, though, to find out that West is such a scamp. Why, Ingleborough must be as bad." "Or worse," said Anson, grinning. "Yes, because he's older. Why, I quite trusted that fellow." "Ah, you're not the first man who has been deceived, sir." "Of course not; but by the way, Mr Anson, why didn't you say something of this kind in your defence when Ingleborough charged you before the directors?" "Why didn't I say something about it? Why, because I didn't know. It only came to me too late. But there, you know now; and, as I said before, I wish you luck and a good haul, only unfortunately they've got a good start and you'll have your work cut out. Going? Goodbye then." "Goodbye?" said the superintendent, using the word as a question. "Yes, of course. I'm going to chance it. I don't suppose we shall meet any Boers." "No; I don't think you'll meet any Boers," said the officer, in so meaning a way that Anson grew uneasy. "Why do you speak like that?" he said sharply. "Only that it isn't goodbye, Mr Anson." "Not goodbye? Yes, it is. I'm off to the south at once." "No, sir; you're going north with me. You area suspected person, Mr Anson. I am not altogether satisfied with my search, nor yet with your very ingenious story." "Then search again?" cried Anson excitedly. "Not here, sir. I'll have a careful look over the wagon when we get back to Kimberley." "You don't mean to say you are going to drag me back to Kimberley?" "I do, sir, and you ought to be thankful, for you'd never pass through the Boers' lines further south." "But you have thoroughly searched me and my wagon." "I have told you that I am not satisfied," said the officer coldly; "and, even if I were, I should take you back with me all the same." "Why? What for?" "To face this Mr West and his companion if we capture them and bring them back." "But what's that to me?" "Only this: you are the informer, and will have to give evidence against them when they are examined. Now, please, no more words, Mr Anson; you are my prisoner. Quick, boys! Get the team in-spanned and the wagon turned the other way." "But breakfast," said Anson, with a groan. "I must have something to eat." "The billy is boiling," said the sergeant to his chief, in a confidential tone, "and the bullocks would be all the better for an hour's feed, sir." The superintendent looked sharply towards the fire and the prisoner's provisions, and shaded his eyes and gazed for some minutes south. "You're right," he said. "Send two men off a good mile forward as outposts, and let the oxen feed.--Now, Mr Anson, I'll take breakfast with you if you'll have me for a guest." "Yes; I can't help myself," said the prisoner bitterly; "and suppose I shan't have a chance given me to make your tea agreeable with something I have in the wagon." "No; I don't think you will, sir, thanks." "But I can sit and wish you luck, my friend, and my wish is this--that a commando may swoop down upon you and your gang." "Thanks once more," said the superintendent grimly. "There, sit down, sir, and I'll preside and send you your breakfast." This was done, the repast made, and, as soon as two of the constables had finished, they were sent off to relieve their rear-guard, sending them on to have their meal, and with orders to fall back towards the wagon a quarter of an hour after the relief had been made. All this was duly carried out, the oxen in-spanned, and the wagon began its lumbering course back towards Kimberley, the black driver and voorlooper taking their places in the most unconcerned way, as if it were all in the day's work, while Anson, after eating voraciously, had a fit of the sulks, watching narrowly the movements of the police. After a moment's indecision he climbed upon the box in the front of the wagon and in doing so glanced at his rifle, which hung in its slings close to his head. "Six of them," he said to himself, as he smiled pleasantly. "I could bring down the chief and one more easily; but that wouldn't scare the rest away. Odds are too heavy, and one don't want to be taken and hanged. They are so particular about a policeman being hurt! Never mind; I daresay my luck will turn--fool as I was to try that dodge on about those two going off with the smuggled loot. I'll wait. Here goes to whistle for the Boers, as the sailors do for wind." Saying this, he drew out the little mahogany case which held his flute, and coolly took the pieces and fitted them together, before crossing his legs upon the rough seat and beginning to blow, keeping up a series of the most doleful old Scotch and Irish laments, while the oxen plodded on and the police rode by the wagon side, listening and looking in vain for any sign tending to point out the fact that the flautist was a dishonest dealer in the coveted crystals which were so hard to get, but all the same keeping a keen look-out for danger in the shape of advancing Boers. _ |
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