"Honor has known Mr Holman since she was a child," Mrs Krige interposed. "That was before we came to Benfontein, when we lived in the town. Lately we have seen little of him. Andreas, I expect Mr Matheson would like to go to his room. We shall have supper shortly. If you are only half as hungry as I was the first time I drove across the flats," she added, turning again towards the guest, "you must be very ready for it." Alone in the plainly furnished bedroom, dominated by the great four-poster, which recalled gruesome suggestions of a hearse, Matheson fell to thinking pleasantly about Honor Krige. It was extraordinary what a change the sight of her had put upon the face of things. He no longer experienced boredom at the prospect of spending a week, or even two weeks, at the farm. He hoped the reply to Holman's communication would be delayed--the nature of the communication no longer mattered. Of what account was the overthrow of governments, or other and more wily knavery, when set off against daily intercourse and companionship with beauty's self? He felt equal at the moment to participating in a crime if to do so were to win a smile of genuine appreciation from Honor Krige. Not that he imagined Honor, or any member of her family, to be steeped in infamy. If the brother were a political firebrand, he doubted that the women were infected with the disorder. They seemed to be quiet and homely folk. The Kriges meanwhile were discussing him, while Honor and a little Kaffir girl laid the table for the supper which Freidja Krige was cooking. "He is nice looking," observed Honor, having dispatched Koewe to the kitchen for plates. "I am going to be nice to him." "Don't be too nice," advised her brother drily. "We do not know anything about him. We must be discreet." "He is a friend of Mr Holman," she urged, as if that constituted a claim to their consideration. "He only comes on business from Mr Holman," he said. "It is best not to be hasty." Mrs Krige glanced swiftly at her son. "Andreas," she said, "is he on political business for Mr Holman?" "As a messenger only. He brought me a letter." "Mr Holman would not send any but a trustworthy messenger," she replied, and became silent as the Kaffir girl returned with the plates, and set them in a pile on the table for Honor to arrange. "Place the chairs, Koewe," said Honor--"straight, picannin schelm. That will do. Now go and help young missis in the kitchen." She swung round and faced her brother. "What does Mr Holman say about him?" she asked. "Very little," Krige answered in his deliberate way. "I gather from the letter that he trusts him simply because he is new to the country, and has no knowledge of Dutch." "Ah!" said Honor, and gazed thoughtfully through the open window out upon the dried-up garden. "I wonder why he should carry letters for Mr Holman?" she mused. CHAPTER TEN.