"The brute!" ejaculated Mr. Blakeney. "He has evidently been spying on us. And when he bored that hole he must have got into this room and cleared away any traces of his work." He knelt on Guy’s bed and examined the aperture carefully again. "He has even taken the trouble to put on some dark paint round this side of the hole," he added, "so that the place looks just like a pine knot from this side. I wonder you spotted it, Guy." "Well, I noticed it from the bed this morning," said Guy, "just before I got up. It was a mere chance. The place looked uneven, and when I examined it I found I could just get the tip of my little finger inside the hole. Then I saw that the place wasn’t natural." "Well, the mischief’s done now," said Mr. Blakeney. "I have half a mind to tell the landlord--in fact, I think I will straight away." Senhor José Moseles, whom Mr. Blakeney at once interviewed, was no friend of Antonio Minho. He knew the man to be a shady character, and a friend of the filibustering Boer, Engelbrecht. But in Mossamedes such characters were not uncommon, and landlords had to put up with them, if they paid their bills. Minho was just now flush of money, and indeed was usually well supplied with that commodity. But Senhor Moseles would look after him. It was not Mr. Blakeney’s plan to arouse the man’s suspicions just then. Moseles therefore arranged to take measures concerning the peep-hole a week or two later; which, Minho having left the hotel, he did. The hole was plugged and varnished, and the matter, so far as he was concerned, ended. This little matter attended to, the three Englishmen breakfasted. Then, having put together their small kits, their horses were brought round, and they quitted Mossamedes. Their route lay along the main road running from the seaport to Humpata, and there was no difficulty in finding their way. The road, if road it could be called, was rough and uneven, and the country parched, hilly, and uninteresting. They overtook the wagon at one o’clock, and found it outspanned till the heat of the day was past. At four they trekked, and made fair progress till nine, when they outspanned again. For nearly a week the expedition pushed on steadily eastward, through sterile and mountainous country, until they had reached the Trek Boer settlement at Humpata, by the Portuguese sometimes called San Januario. Here they halted for a couple of days to rest the oxen and take in some further stores, including poultry, meal, and other produce grown by the Boers in this neighbourhood.