The other did not at once reply. He was balancing a knife meditatively on the edge of his plate, his fine features a perfect mask of impassibility. But in reality his thoughts ran black and bitter. It was all "Tom" and "Tom." What the deuce had Tom done to deserve all this solicitude--and how was it appreciated by its fortunate object? Not a hair's-breadth. Then, as she rose from the table and went out on the _stoep_ to look out for any sign of the absent one's return, Eustace was conscious of another turn of the spear in the wound. Why had he arrived on the scene of the fray that morning just in time to intervene? suggested his evil angel. The delay of a few minutes, and... "Would it do anything towards persuading you to adopt the more prudent course and leave here for a while, if I were to tell you that Josane was urging that very thing this morning?" said Eustace when she returned. The said Josane was a grizzled old Kafir who held the post of cattle-herd under the two cousins. He was a Gcaleka, and had fled from Kreli's country some years previously, thereby narrowly escaping one of the varied and horrible forms of death by torture habitually meted out to those accused of his hypothetical offence--for he had been "smelt out" by a witch-doctor. He was therefore not likely to throw in his lot with his own countrymen against his white protectors, by whom he was looked upon as an intelligent and thoroughly trustworthy man, which indeed he was. "I don't think it would," she answered with a deprecatory smile. "I should be ten times more nervous if I were right away, and, as I said before, I don't believe the Kafirs would do me the slightest harm." Eustace, though he had every reason to suppose the contrary, said nothing as he rose from the table and began to fill his pipe. He was conscious of a wild thrill of delight at her steadfast refusal. What would life be worth here without that presence? Well, come what might, no harm should fall upon her, of that he made mental oath. Eanswyth, having superintended the clearing of the table by the two little Kafir girls who filled the _role_ rather indifferent handmaidens, joined him on the _stoep_. It was a lovely night; warm and balmy. The dark vault above was so crowded with stars that they seemed to hang in golden patches. "Shall we walk a little way down the kloof and see if we can meet Tom," she suggested. "A good idea. Just half a minute though. I want to get another pipe." He went into his room, slipped a "bull-dog" revolver of heavy calibre into his pocket, and quickly rejoined her.