The lowering clouds of adversity gathered closely, surely, mercilessly, around our friends. Clasp that hand again, and once again, in mute farewell. Look deep into those steadfast eyes. It may be for the last time for many long, relentless years; it may be for the last time--on earth! CHAPTER XXVII THE BETRAYAL OF THE SECRET COMMITTEE. A MEMORABLE DAY OF TROUBLE It was only a few days after the van Warmelos had parted from Mr. Botha that Mr. J. Joubert arrived at Harmony with the tidings that four men had again entered the town that night. One of them was a lad of nineteen, young Erasmus, whose parents had been killed by lightning when he was a child, and to whom Mrs. Joubert had been a second mother. When he arrived at their home that night they were very angry with him, and demanded what he meant by coming into the very heart of danger. He meekly answered that he had merely come to see how they were all getting on, and to spend a few days at home, casually remarking that there was a dearth of horse-shoe nails on commando, and that he had been ordered to bring some out. He and his comrades knew nothing of the recent betrayal, and it was their good fortune that they had used an entirely different route, coming through Skinner's Court. They had not seen a single guard. Besides the horse-shoe nails, there was the usual demand for clothing and European and Colonial newspapers. Mrs. van Warmelo immediately made a parcel of the cuttings which she and her friends had been collecting for some time past, and wrote a tiny note to Mr. Greyling, warning him and his fellows against coming in through the usual way, which was now guarded, and informing him that his name had been betrayed. This note was hidden in a match-box with a double false bottom, covered with matches, and given to Erasmus to be handed to Greyling. Since the revelations made, it was not safe to see the spies, nor was it known by whom the match-box had been sent. After all, in spite of Mrs. Joubert's vexation with the reckless youth, she was thankful to know that some one was going out to Skurveberg with a warning to the Secret Service. Erasmus had to leave without the horse-shoe nails, because, though J. Joubert hunted all over the town, he could not procure enough to send out. The stores sold them only to the military and blacksmiths, and the latter were curious to know why he did not bring his horses to them to be shod. Mother and daughter were there at 5.30 p.m., with their parcels, and at 6 p.m. the spies were to leave, Mrs. Malan and van der Westhuizen driving out with them as far as they could. That was a real danger, compared with which all other risks were as nothing, to drive through the streets of Pretoria with spies, at a time when everyone was liable to be stopped to produce residential passes and to show permits for horses and carriages. But, indeed, those women were not to be intimidated by anything!