At Chippingholt he had warned him that if he married Brenda he would denounce him. Well, he had married Brenda, and was now well beyond reach on his way to Africa. More than ever was Van Zwieten determined that he should pay for what he had done. He had but exchanged the gallows in England for a Boer bullet in South Africa. Then, when he was no more, his widow should become Mrs. van Zwieten. That he swore should be. He had failed once, he would not fail again. From Waterloo he went to Westminster, to get the revolver and take it to his rooms, that he might have it ready for production on the morrow. On arrival there he was met by Mrs. Hicks. She was in the greatest distress. "Oh, sir!" she cried, "a policeman's been here, and has taken a box from your room--an iron box!" For the moment Van Zwieten stood stunned. Then he rushed upstairs and looked on the top of the press. The box was gone! CHAPTER XVII. CHECKMATED. Strong man as he was, Van Zwieten reeled half-fainting against the wall. It was true--the box was gone! In a flash he realized his peril. For that box held little that was not of a highly compromising nature. Once its contents were seen by the authorities--as it would seem they must be--he would be arrested as a spy, imprisoned, perhaps hanged. No ingenuity or lying on his part could explain away the damning evidence of the papers. They spoke for themselves. What a fool he had been not to have forwarded them to Leyds in the morning as he had intended to do. Now it was too late, and nothing remained but to fly to Pretoria and to throw in his lot openly with his employers. Useless now to think of going out as correspondent to an English newspaper, even were he able to manage his escape from London. Those in command at the front would surely be advised of his true character by the home authorities; and not only that, but he would be unmasked in a country under military law, where a spy such as he would receive but short shrift. Fly he must, and that at once. He must get to the Continent, and take ship for Delagoa Bay. The game was up in England; there remained now only the Transvaal. After the first emotion of terror had passed, Van Zwieten collected his wits and set to work to find some way out of the difficulty. Had he been in Russia or France he would have given himself up to despair, for there the authorities were lynx-eyed and relentless. But here in England he was amongst a people so firmly wedded to their old-fashioned laws as to freedom and justice that they might fail to take the strong measures which the situation, so far as they were concerned, demanded. He would baffle these pig-headed islanders yet, and, with a courage born of despair, he set himself to the accomplishment of this design.