"Says he couldn't get there, or something. Anyway Lamont's girl chucked him then and there. She was the daughter of some county big-wig too." "Of course I wasn't there," said Clare, "and the man who enjoyed Mr Lamont's hospitality, as a stranger in a strange land, was. Still, I should like to hear the other side of the story." "What if it hasn't got another side?" said her brother-in-law shortly. "What if it has? Most stories have," answered Clare sweetly. "Anyway," struck in Driffield, "Ancram's no sort of chap to go around talking of other people funking. I took him on patrol with me the other day from Lamont's. Thought he'd like to see something of the country perhaps, and the Matabele. Incidentally, Lamont lent him a horse and all he wanted for the trip. Well, the whole time the fellow was in the bluest of funks. When a lot of the people came to _indaba_ us, he kept asking whether they might not mean treachery, or had arms concealed under their blankets. As to that I told him yes, and legs too." Clare went off into a ringing, merry peal. "Capital!" she cried. "Oh well--" said Driffield, looking rather pleased. "But he was in a terrific funk all through. The acme of it was reached the night we slept at the Umgwane drift. Ames voted him a devil of--er, I mean a superlative nuisance. He kept waking us up at all hours of the night, wanting to know if we didn't hear anything. We had had a big _indaba_ that day with Tolozi and his people, and this chump kept swearing he heard footsteps, and they must be stealing up to murder us in our sleep. I wonder if Peters had been filling him up with any yarns. But, anyhow, Ancram's a nice sort of chap to talk about other people funking, isn't he?" "Why, yes," said Clare. "But his behaviour with regard to Mr Lamont is too contemptible, spreading stories about him behind his back. Why should he do it, Mr Driffield? What on earth motive can he have?" "Cussedness, I suppose--sheer cussedness. A good deal more mischief is made under that head than is due to mere motive, I imagine." "I believe so. By the way, did you persuade Mr Ames to come over for the race meeting?" "Persuade! I tried to, Miss Vidal. But there's no getting Ames that far out of his district unless on leave or on duty. Ames spells conscientiousness exaggerated." "That's a pity," said Clare. "He's one of the nicest men I know." "Except Mr Lamont, Clare," appended her sister mischievously. "They're so different. You can't compare them," pronounced the girl, her serenity unruffled. And then they talked of other things, and had lunch; and after a digestive smoke the two men went back to their offices--Fullerton being by profession a mining engineer.