"I'm going home directly, Hermia," said Spence, with a bitter emphasis on the word "home." "I rather think I'm the third who constitutes a crowd." "How can you talk like that, after--" And she broke off suddenly. "Still, I think I'll go, darling. But--are you really going away--to Salisbury?" "No. But you've got too speaking a face, Justin dear. Why on earth did you look so dismal and blank when he said that?" "Because I couldn't help it, I suppose." "But you've got to help it. See here now, Justin, I can't keep you in leading-strings. You are such a great baby, you have no control over yourself. You're quite big enough, and--" "Ugly enough? Yes, go on." "No, the other thing--only I'm spoiling you too much, and making you abominably conceited. Now come in, and give me just one little kiss before you start, and then I think you really had better go." "Promise me you won't go away without letting me know," he urged, when the above-named process--which, by the way, was not of such very diminutive proportions as she had suggested--had been completed. Outside, Blachland's voice directing the native servants was plainly audible. "Yes, I promise. Now, go and say good-bye, and get your horse. No, not `one more.' Do be a little prudent." "Eh? Want to saddle up, Spence?" said Blachland, as Justin went over to where he was occupied. "All right. I say, though, excuse me; I really am rather busy. Come along, and we'll get out your horse. Have a drink before you start." "Thanks awfully, Blachland, I've just had one. Good-bye, old chap, don't bother to come to the stable. Good-bye." The other took a side glance at his retreating guest. "He's flurried," he said to himself. "These callow cubs don't know how to play the game. They do give it away so--give it away with both hands." Then he went on tranquilly with what he was doing. He did not even go to the gate to see Spence off. He simply took him at his word. In social matters, Hilary Blachland was given to taking people at their word. If they didn't know their own minds, not being infants or imbeciles, that wasn't his affair. Then his thoughts were diverted into another channel, and this was effected by the sight of Hlangulu. The Matabele was standing around, lending a hand here or there whenever he saw an opportunity. For some reason of his own he seemed anxious to be kept on there. That he would be of no use at all as a farm servant was obvious, equally so that he had no ambition to fill that _role_. The rather mysterious words he had uttered could refer to but one thing; namely, the exceedingly dangerous and apparently utterly profitless scheme talked over by the camp fire on the Matya'mhlope, and which there could be no doubt whatever but that he had overheard. That being so, was not Blachland indeed in this man's power?