"By Heaven! not so!" swore the Dutchman, growing red. "Ah, you do not know how we are tricking these English fools. I am Dutch, born in Holland, but I have thrown in my lot with the Boers. I and Leyds and Kruger and Steyn are set upon building up a new nation in South Africa. As the English, a century ago, were driven out of America, so will they be driven from the Cape. They will go to war, thinking it will be an easy task. They do not know--they do not guess--we have more burghers, more arms, more friends than they think. They are less well prepared for war than we are. Wait--wait--all the world will be astonished before the year is out. Brenda, I could say much, but I dare not. Trust me, love me, marry me, and you will be great, even as I shall be great. Come with me and assist me to build up this new nation." "At the expense of my own country!" cried the girl. "I would rather die! You are a Boer spy, a Boer liar; but all your intrigues, all your lies, will come to nothing. If there is a war, your Republic will be crushed, and your rebellion punished. Is it to me, a loyal Englishwoman, that you speak? Marry you! Betray my country! I defy your threat. I treat with contempt your boasts of conquest. Let me pass, Mr. van Zwieten. Never dare to speak to me again." With a vigorous movement she thrust him back, and swept out of the door before he could recover his presence of mind. It was just as well she had gone, for Van Zwieten, baffled and scorned, gave way fully to his rage. He did not dare to follow and make a scandal, lest it should lead to inquiry about him and his doings. But he strode up and down the room, swearing volubly in Dutch and English. Furious with Brenda, furious with himself, he could not contain his anger. He had played his last, card, and had lost. "No matter," he said, with a mighty oath, "I'll make her heart ache yet!" Though how he intended to do this was not clear even to himself. Van Zwieten was involved in a maze of intrigue; but he was doubtful how to use it to his own advantage. He had ample material to manufacture trouble in connection with this crime, but for want of certain missing links in the chain he was puzzled how to act. To Brenda he had spoken with less than his usual caution. He had been carried away by his feelings. He was madly in love with her, and the more she scorned him, the more he worshipped her. If he could not win her by fair means, he would do so by foul. Without waiting for the return of Mr. Scarse, he left the chambers to think out some plan whereby he might net Brenda in his toils. As yet he could not see clearly ahead. But in time he might hope to accomplish much that now appeared to be impossible.