Butter Tom retired within, and spread his mats carefully on the floor. The baas was attempting to shave himself with the razor grasped in his left hand, and was making a sorry business of it. He looked round at Butter Tom's entrance to inquire who it was he had heard talking outside the hut. "Young missis will send Butter Tom to the stable," the Kaffir vouchsafed, with an appealing look at the baas in the hope that the latter would raise some objection to his obeying the strange behest. But the baas, letting the razor fall, and receiving it without comment from the dark hand which hastily forestalled his request by returning it to him, merely said: "If the young missis wants you, go at once." Then he resumed the business of shaving himself with a hand considerably less steady than before. What need had Honor for employing Nel's servant? And why had she returned? As if in answer to his unspoken questions. Honor entered the rondavel, having satisfied herself that Butter Tom had departed to do her bidding. She entered with a certain hesitation, and seeing Matheson's occupation, advanced with greater assurance and took the razor from his unresisting hand. "There isn't any time for this," she said. "You can get this done in the town. In a few minutes Butter Tom will have the spider ready. It's a long drive for one horse, but you must do it, and you must start at once." "But why?" he asked, amazed. "It is early. Half an hour can't make much difference anyway; and I look such a ruffian." She closed the razor with a snap. As she did so Leentje's words recurred to her with a new and more sinister meaning. "She put her hand to the nail, and her right hand to the workman's hammer." ... A razor was quite as effective a weapon as a hammer in the hand of jael. Quickly she returned the razor to him, contemplating him with thoughtful anxious eyes. Instinctively she knew that she must not apprise him of his danger. He would not flee before a German, nor even from a modern Jael. "There is no time to lose," she said. "They might raise objections to my lending the spider. I am giving you the only chance of a conveyance. If you don't take it now you will have to wait until you can ride into town; and quite possibly your horse will be commandeered. All the horses on the farm have been taken." "Nel's horses--yes," he said. "But they can't take mine." "They won't ask your permission," she answered. "Please do as I ask you. The spider belongs to Herman; you need not scruple to use it. Butter Tom will drive you... Reward him well; he will possibly be blamed when he returns." She did not think it necessary to inform him that Butter Tom would most probably be flogged for obeying her orders. Holman would wreak his vengeance on the Kaffir because he would not dare to reproach her. She had known him flog a Kaffir before; it was his method of enforcing a discipline he could not otherwise maintain.