A solemn stillness lay over this building, plunged as it was in darkness, and rising out of the shrubbery and fruit trees which had been planted and forced up regardless of expense. Solemnly and darkly this combined mass of building and foliage, with the delicate filigree tracings of palm trees and other exotics, rose against the declining moon. There was not a light to be seen in any of the windows. But in a corner of the garden was a small single-storeyed building, like a summer-house, and here in the two windows facing them gleamed a ruddy glow of lamplight. "The master is still up, Pete?" observed Dr Jim, as they dismounted and gave their horses to the Kaffir boy. "Yes, Baas. He is waiting for you." "Then, we must not keep him waiting. Come, lads, and report yourselves." He opened a little side gate, and strode through the shrubbery towards the lighted windows, with our heroes at his heels. For the second time they were about to behold this colossus of Africa-- the man who never turned upon a friend, or took refuge behind an excuse; the man who considered his vast possessions as only trust-money for the good of his country; the most powerful and striking personality of the nineteenth century. Our heroes did not tremble as they had done when entering the abode of the ignoble enemy at Pretoria. There were no policemen here to guard this potent life. He was hedged round by admiration and affection. Nor had he any dread of the assassin's bullet, for he was a man absolutely fearless. Yet they approached with timid expectation for all that. Dr Jim tapped at the door, and a strong clear voice bade them enter. Next moment they were inside a small room plainly furnished with a table, a few chairs, and a small camp bed. They were in the favourite sanctum and bedroom of the modern Napoleon. He had been busy writing before they came, for the table was littered with papers. But at their entrance, he sprang up quickly, and, taking two strides, held out his shapely hand and clasped that of Dr Jim with a firm fervent grasp. "Welcome back, old fellow, and you also, young gentlemen; let me congratulate you on your escape." He pushed the spirit-decanter and a box of cigars over to Dr Jim, who helped himself. Then he looked at our heroes with a genial smile. "You have been already adding a line to our history, and making yourselves famous in Africa," he said. "I have here my orders to look out for you, and hand you back to prison. Ah, there is a fine to do over this affair. Thirteen valuable burghers gone under, I believe." "Twelve I am answerable for," answered Dr Jim, calmly. "The thirteenth was killed by one of the Kaffirs who escaped with us," said Ned. He had been wondering how they had got on, and now enquired if any of them had been captured. "Not yet. Nor do I expect they will be. I suppose you made arrangements about their safety, Jim?"