"What are you up to?" he asked nervously... "You're remembering things against me. You've got a grudge--both of you. Well, just you remember that I might have murdered you that morning--without risk... and I didn't." "I'm remembering," Lawless answered, "everything." He turned to Hayhurst. "Change your rig, Tom," he said quietly. "And clean your face, if you can. I may need you presently." And to the huge delight of the Kaffir, and the further mortification of Van Bleit, Hayhurst proceeded in a business-like manner, with an occasional lapse into fooling, to divest himself of pointed shoes, skirt and blouse, corsets and artificial bust, until with an exaggerated sigh of relief he stood in his pants and shirt and stretched himself luxuriously. "No, I wouldn't be a woman," he remarked,--"not even a successful woman... And I've enjoyed a fair amount of popularity in the role." While he went to the cart for the portmanteau of male attire he had brought with him, Lawless occupied himself in going through the contents of Van Bleit's pockets, who, while asserting with a contemptuous laugh that there was nothing there of the least value to anyone beside himself, seemed none the less uneasy at being searched. "I suppose you don't believe me," he said sneeringly, "when I say that I don't carry that packet you want about with me?" "Oh! I believe you," Lawless answered, calmly continuing the search. "I've a great faith in your veracity." He came upon Van Bleit's pocket-book, and withdrew a few paces to examine the contents at his leisure. He had a strong idea that if Van Bleit carried what he was looking for, he would find it somewhere between the closely packed covers. Van Bleit watched him with hardly controlled anxiety. "I don't see what concern you have with my private papers," he remarked bitterly. "Your vision will be clearer if I happen across what I want," Lawless replied. "If I don't it will be so much the worse for you." He went through the contents carefully while Van Bleit looked on in almost painful interest, and Tom Hayhurst, having changed into a light-coloured suit, proceeded to remove by the aid of much grease the bloom of a complexion that had helped to Van Bleit's undoing. The grinning native held a looking-glass for him, which Hayhurst carried with his make-up box. He had studied the art of making-up from a professional for the innocent purpose of amateur theatricals at which he was remarkably clever. He had acquired his knowledge of the manners and appearance of the demi-mondaine also at first hand, and had conceived the idea of turning his knowledge to practical account as a means of retrieving his former failure and avenging his broken head.