"As yet I've done nothing except come up here the first thing this morning and verify the whole affair. And I have. There are abundant traces that a large number of Matabele have occupied this ground for hours. Look at the thing you picked up--do you know what it is?" "This?" said Clare, holding out the cow-tails on the string. "Yes. Well, that is part of the regular war-gear. It is tied round the leg above the calf--and this thing you found forms an important `_piece de conviction_.' It is never worn when moving about in the ordinary way. Well, old Qubani is not detained, because I saw it answered my purpose best to let him go." CHAPTER FOURTEEN. A GOOD UNDERSTANDING. "To let him go?" echoed the girl. "But--ought you not to have had him arrested as a traitor and a murderer? Good Heavens! The whole plot is too awful." "And so I divulge it to you first, instead of to my fellow-man Orwell, R.M., or Isard, commanding the Matabeleland Mounted Police in Gandela. Why?" Clare looked puzzled. "I don't know why," she said. "But it seems a dreadful responsibility." "So I was inclined to think--in fact, very much did think--when having mapped out my plans everything seemed to conspire to smash them up. Yourself among the said everything." "Myself? Now, how?" Lamont smiled that queer sour smile again. "Why, certainly. Didn't you make a point of my entering for the tent-pegging? What would have happened if I'd won? I couldn't receive a prize by deputy. Didn't you want me to help you and your sister, what time to have left the side of our worthy and reverend magician would have been fatal?" "Yes. I did that," said Clare penitently. "But, Mr Lamont, how on earth could I have foreseen that anything of the kind was brewing?" "No, you couldn't. I'm not blaming you, you understand, no, not for a moment." What was this? Not blaming her? Blaming _her_! Clare Vidal was not accustomed to be `blamed' any more than to have her requests refused, especially in this land where there were not even enough women to go round, as she was fond of putting it. She was wondering what awful and scathing rejoinder she would have made to any man who should have ventured on such a remark to her a day or two ago. Yet to this one, lounging back there with one elbow resting on a big cold stone, lighting his pipe, she had no thought of scathing rejoinder. She was all aglow with admiration of his nerve and self-reliance.