It was a commercial hotel that Holman had recommended, run by Dutch people and patronised principally by the Dutch. Matheson shared a small table with a Jew, who owned a store in the town and took his meals at the hotel but did not sleep there. The Jew was not expansive; but he showed a ready courtesy when approached on any subject, and was emphatic in his agreement with Matheson's disparagement of the weather. "It is a land of drought," he finished, and refilled his glass from the bottle at his elbow. "I have known the drought hold on the Karroo for two years. But the land won't die. There's water a long way below the surface." "Well have to bore for that some day," Matheson said. "Oh! they do bore--on the farms." "It wants doing on a more extensive scale." "Yes; but there's the difficulty of finance again. Who is to provide the money?" Matheson lifted his brows. "If a man finds a gold mine, he's quick enough as a rule to find the capital for exploiting it. The Empire's fairly wealthy." The other appeared doubtful. "She did not become so through speculation," he ventured. "That's no argument," the younger man contended. "Something has been written, you know, against wrapping certain possessions away in a napkin. If one undertakes responsibility it's up to one to turn it to the best account--otherwise leave it alone." The Jew relapsed into an acquiescent silence, from which Matheson presently dug him to inquire if he knew a farm named Benauwdheidfontein. "No." He looked up curiously. "I wouldn't like to take a farm with a name like that," he said. "It's something of a mouthful certainly," Matheson agreed. "Oh, that! Many Dutch homesteads have long names... But-- Benauwdheidfontein! ... No! that's bad." It became clear to Matheson that it was something the name suggested, rather than the word itself, to which the speaker objected. "What does Benauwdheidfontein stand for?" he inquired. The Jew thought for a moment. "Literally the word, I believe, means uneasiness, anxiety; but it conveys rather more than that. It suggests being at odds with life-- cornered, as it were--having reached the limit of endurance. Fear lurks in the word. It's a name with a sinister meaning--an unlucky name, we should call it." "I am not much of a believer in luck, are you?" Matheson said. His listener smiled. "It depends on the hour, the place, and the circumstance," he replied, and helped himself to cheese, which he proceeded to despatch in an abstracted manner, and with an air of being wishful to escape further conversation. Matheson finished his lunch, and interviewed the proprietor. "Can you provide me with a conveyance that will take me to Benauwdheidfontein?" he asked. "Benfontein--Mr Krige's place? Oh! yes," was the response. "It's a long drive. You won't want to start for a couple of hours, I suppose?"