“Yes,” he interrupted quickly. “Because I believe that in you I shall find the treasure of which I dream day and night, and because that treasure has become necessary to my life.” Benita turned quickly towards her father, who was puzzling over the words, but before either of them could speak Jacob passed his hand across his brow in a bewildered way and said: “What was I talking of? The treasure, yes, the uncountable treasure of pure gold, that lies hid so deep, that is so hard to discover and to possess; the useless, buried treasure that would bring such joy and glory to us both, if only it could be come at and reckoned out, piece by piece, coin by coin, through the long, long years of life.” Again he paused; then went on. “Well, Miss Clifford, you are quite right; that is why I have dared to make you a prisoner, because, as the old Molimo said, the treasure is yours and I wish to share it. Now, about this treasure, it seems that it can’t be found, can it, although I have worked so hard?” and he looked at his delicate, scarred hands. “Quite so, Mr. Meyer, it can’t be found, so you had better let us go down to the Makalanga.” “But there is a way, Miss Clifford, there is a way. You know where it lies, and you can show me.” “If I knew I would show you soon enough, Mr. Meyer, for then you could take the stuff and our partnership would be at an end.” “Not until it is divided ounce by ounce and coin by coin. But first--first you must show me, as you say you will, and as you can.” “How, Mr. Meyer? I am not a magician.” “Ah! but you are. I will tell you how, having your promise. Listen now, both of you. I have studied. I know a great many secret things, and I read in your face that you have the gift--let me look in your eyes a while, Miss Clifford, and you will go to sleep quite gently, and then in your sleep, which shall not harm you at all, you will see where that gold lies hidden, and you will tell us.” “What do you mean?” asked Benita, bewildered. “I know what he means,” broke in Mr. Clifford. “You mean that you want to mesmerize her as you did the Zulu chief.” Benita opened her lips to speak, but Meyer said quickly: “No, no; hear me first before you refuse. You have the gift, the precious gift of clairvoyance, that is so rare.” “How do you know that, Mr. Meyer? I have never been mesmerized in my life.” “It does not matter how. I do know it; I have been sure of it from the moment when first we met, that night by the kloof. Although, perhaps, you felt nothing then, it was that gift of yours working upon a mind in tune, my mind, which led me there in time to save you, as it was that gift of yours which warned you of the disaster about to happen to the ship--oh! I have heard the story from your own lips. Your spirit can loose itself from the body: it can see the past and the future; it can discover the hidden things.” “I do not believe it,” answered Benita; “but at least it shall not be loosed by you.”