How the subsequent days were lived through Clare was never quite sure. Over and above the poignancy of bereavement an awful depression would come upon her, and in her dreams she would again see the horrors and bloodshed she had witnessed--ay, and taken part in; and the savage faces of those she herself had slain would rise to confront her, glaring hideously with distorted features and threatening snarl. What was she expiating, she would wonder, that no peace should be hers either by night or by day? If she suffered, it was in silence. Hers was far the stronger mind of the two, and even to her sister she shrank from laying it entirely open. Yet her reticence was seen through, and everybody was considerate and sympathetic. Every scrap of news relating to what was going on in the field was promptly conveyed to her, all but what she thirsted to hear, and that was still lacking. Day followed upon day, and the whereabouts of Peters and his following remained shrouded in a mystery as impenetrable as that of him whom they sought. Among those who strove to cheer her up was Driffield the Native Commissioner, and he in a measure succeeded. "Don't give up, yet, Miss Vidal," he said, "no, not by any means. I wish I could bring you round to my belief, and that is that Lamont will turn up again." "I wish you could," she answered. "But--time goes on and we hear-- nothing." "I'm not sure that's against it," returned Driffield. "Lamont was a peculiar chap--in fact, a very peculiar sort of chap. He was friendly with Zwabeka's people and with Zwabeka himself. Well, then, it's just possible some of them may be hiding him away until it's safe to turn him loose." "Why do you think that, Mr Driffield?" "I don't know. It occurs to me as quite within the possibilities. The great thing is--we know he wasn't killed there, and we know that two others were. Lamont understands natives thoroughly--I could see that-- and I fancy I know a little about them myself. Look, too, how he engineered the old witch-doctor the day of the race meeting. That was a great piece of nerve and gumption combined. By Jove! I shouldn't wonder in the least if he were to make it worth their while to let him skip. Somehow I'm almost certain he'll turn up again quite jolly." "If only I could think so!" she would reply sadly. Every day she would visit the wounded men, who were lying in a temporary hospital within the precincts of the laager, and this she never missed. They had been wounded in her defence, she declared, and anything she could do to brighten the weariness and pain of their enforced detention should be done. And brighten it she did, and her daily visit was looked forward to with such eagerness that more than one poor fellow declared that it almost made it worth while being knocked out. But Jim Steele growled mightily.