"Nonsense. Don't make a fuss over a little thing like that. You must be a true soldier's wife and laugh at these things. But now that I have told you everything, and we have settled what is to be done, I must see your father." They found Mr. Scarse on deck with the captain. He received Harold with unaffected pleasure. "I am thankful to see you alive," he said. "The captain has been telling me all about your miraculous escape." "I am glad to be able to strike another blow for Old England, sir; but I have to thank you for your kindness in coming out. You were going into the very jaws of the lion to find me!" "To Pretoria--yes," he said simply. "But I am glad there is no need to do that. And yet I should have enjoyed meeting Kruger." "You shall see him when we take the capital," Harold said. "Brenda has made up her mind to stay until the end of the war." "Brenda?--what nonsense!" "Oh, I must, father--if only to protect Harold from Van Zwieten." "Ah! Van Zwieten! What about that letter, Harold?" "A trap, Mr. Scarse; a trap to catch Brenda!" "Why, the man's a villain!" "He is all that. I hope to get a shot at him some day; I have a long score to settle with the brute!" "I agree with you. I hope you will," Mr. Scarse said emphatically. "Punish the scoundrel! Do you know that it was he who murdered Malet?" "No, really?--I suspected as much; but he accused me, you know, at Chippingholt. That was why I went away so suddenly. I could not face Brenda with that hanging over me." "You should have trusted me, Harold," she said somewhat reproachfully; "I never would have believed you guilty." "I was wrong, I know dear, but for the moment I lost my head. You see he had got my revolver, and with that apparently the murder was committed." "It was, and by Van Zwieten himself. You left the revolver at the Manor." "I did, the last time I stayed there. I left two in a case." "The case was in the library, and he must have taken one of them out." "Why--in Heaven's name?" "Ah, that is a long and painful story," Mr. Scarse said significantly. "You tell it, Brenda." And so Brenda related the story of Malet's treachery, and the reasons which had led Lady Jenny to conceal the dead man's shame. Harold could hardly contain his indignation when he heard that an Englishman had acted so base a part. To be bought and sold by a scoundrelly Dutchman; to be the creature of a foreign power; and all the while to be acting the _rôle_ of Judas toward the land which had borne him--these things were almost beyond the soldier's comprehension. "I'd have shot him with my own hand," he cried, striding to and fro, "the low blackguard! The most honest action Van Zwieten ever did in his life was to kill the wretch." "Don't talk so loud, Harold!" said his wife; "we must keep this to ourselves for Lady Jenny's sake."