A Dash from Diamond City | Page 3

and he began to rapidly unscrew his flute,
but so hurriedly that in place of separating the top joint from the next
he pulled it open at the tuning-slide, changed colour, and swung
himself round so as to turn his back to his companions, keeping in that
position till his instrument was properly separated and replaced in its
case, whose lid he closed, and then turned the key.
"I'm ready," he cried, facing round and buttoning his jacket over the
little mahogany case.
"Do you take that shepherd's pipe to bed with you?" said Ingleborough
scornfully.
"Generally," replied the fat-looking clerk innocently. "You see, it's so
nice when one wakes early, and I have learned to blow so softly now
that I can often get an hour's practice before I have my morning's
bath."
"How delightful for the other boarders! You're at Dick Tomlin's house,
aren't you?"
"Yes," said Anson.
"Have they any room for another boarder, Sim?"
"I--I really don't know, but I'll ask, if you like, this evening."
"No, no; don't, please," cried Ingleborough. "Perhaps it might be too
strong for me. I ought to go through a course of bagpipes first."
Anson had fastened two buttons of his jacket so as to hold the flute-case
from slipping, and now he fastened another button, smiling pleasantly
the while.
"That's meant for a joke," he said.
"Quite right," cried Ingleborough abruptly. "Come along."
He stepped out, closely followed by West, and Anson called after them:

"With you directly," as the door swung to.
"Don't do that again," whispered West.
"What?"
"Say anything to chaff old Anson. Did you see how he behaved?"
"I saw him smile like a Chinese mandarin ornament. That's all."
"I saw him smile and look smooth; but he can't bear a joke. His hands
were all of a tremble as he buttoned up his jacket, and there was a
peculiar look in his eye. It's not good policy to make enemies."
"Nonsense! He's a poor slack-baked animal. I wonder they ever had
him here."
West glanced back; but Anson had not yet left the office.
"Relative of one of the directors," said West quickly; "and I've noticed
several things lately to make me think he does not like us."
"Oh, if you come to that," said Ingleborough, "so have I. That's quite
natural, for we don't like him. One can't; he's so smooth and soft. But
why doesn't he come? I'll just give him a minute after we get up to the
compound gate, and if he is not there then he'll have to stay outside."
"Here he comes," cried West, and the next minute their fellow-clerk
joined them, just as they got up to a gate in the high fence of the
enclosure where the Kaffir workers about the diamond-mines were kept
to all intents prisoners till they had served the time for which they had
engaged.
"Haven't kept you two waiting, have I?" said Anson, with a pleasant
smile directed at both.
"No, no, all right," replied West, and directly after they were admitted
to the compound, just in time to find that half-a-dozen of the stalwart
Kaffir workers were standing perfectly nude awaiting the examination

about to be made by some of the officers--an examination which they
seemed to look upon as a joke, for they laughed and chatted together.
"Looking as innocent as old Anson, only not so white," whispered
Ingleborough. "But we shall see."
CHAPTER TWO.
BLACK INNOCENTS.
The examination of the men was not a pleasant duty, but it was carried
out in the most matter-of-fact way by a couple of experienced white
men, who began at once.
"Now, you," cried the one who seemed to be the head; "this way."
The big black spoken to stepped forward at once, smiling
good-temperedly, and stopped by a heavy wooden stool, upon which he
planted a foot, and in obedience to orders separated his toes in turn to
show that he had no diamonds hidden between them. Then he was
seized by the searchers, the first holding the black's head on one side
while his companion took hold of the lobe of the right ear and twisted it
about, ending by thrusting in a small wooden scoop and afterwards
turning it to act as a sound.
"Don't seem to have a diamond in there," said Anson, smiling and
looking very innocent, but deeply interested. "Turn him over."
But the searchers had not waited for Anson's words, and were already
turning the black's head over, the man yielding himself to every push
and thrust, smiling good-humouredly the while, though the treatment
was decidedly rough.
"Nothing in the other ear," said Anson, smiling at West. "Shouldn't
wonder if he's got ever so many tucked in his cheeks, like a monkey
pouches nuts."
This time it