A Dash from Diamond City | Page 6

I am," said Ingleborough coolly.
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Anson mockingly. "You go on with the search
then, and find them."
"There is no need," said Ingleborough coldly; "those two know what
they're about."
He was wrong in saying "two," for the under-searcher now continued
the examination, and Anson's eyes were screwed-up and twinkled again
upon seeing the man give up at the end of another two minutes and
shrug his shoulders.
"No go," he said, turning to his companion. "Someone has been too

clever here."
"Look again," said his chief.
"No: I shan't look any more. I've done."
West's eyes were resting upon the Kaffir, and he saw the man draw in a
deep slow breath which made his broad chest expand, retaining the air
for a minute and then slowly ejecting it.
"Ah! you'll never make a first-class searcher, Jem," said the head man.
"I never did profess to be so smart as you are," retorted the other
sharply.
"No, Jemmy, you never did," said his chief; "but you ought to have
found something here."
"Why, you don't think he has any about him, do you?" cried the man,
who was staggered by his chief's cool, confident way of speaking.
"Yes, I do," said the chief, "and so does Mr Ingleborough there. Don't
you, sir?"
Ingleborough nodded shortly, and West saw the Kaffir's eyes flash,
while when he turned to Anson he saw that his fellow-clerk's face
looked cold and hard.
But Anson's aspect changed the next moment, as soon as he saw he was
observed, and he said, with a broad grin: "Wish I was a betting man: I
could easily win half-a-crown or two over this."
But it struck West that there was a ring of insincerity in the tone of his
voice, and the hard look began to come like a grey shadow over his fat
pink cheeks as he saw the chief searcher go closer up to the Kaffir,
bring his hands down heavily upon the man's shoulders, and stand
facing him and looking him full in the eyes.
There was utter silence now. The Kaffir stood for a moment firmly

gazing back into his white holder's eyes; but it manifestly required a
strong effort, and West felt sure that he saw a quiver like a shadow of
dread run down the black, making his knees slightly shake.
The whole thing was momentary, and the looker-on could not feel sure.
Then the searcher spoke.
"You're a clever one," he said, with a harsh laugh, "and you don't mind
hurting yourself to do a bit of the illicit. Turn round."
He gave the Kaffir a sharp thrust with one hand, a pull with the other,
and the man stood with his back to the lookers-on.
CHAPTER THREE.
RATHER SUSPICIOUS.
What followed was performed with the quick dexterity of a clever
surgeon, the searcher bending down, grasping the great firm muscles of
the Kaffir's right leg about mid-way between hip and knee, and
pressing hard with his two thumbs, when to the surprise of West a
small perpendicular slit opened and a good-sized diamond was forced
out, to fall upon the ground and be received by the under-searcher,
while the wound closed up again with all the elasticity of a cut made in
a piece of indiarubber.
"Bravo!" cried West, and then he held his breath as he saw the clever
manipulation performed upon the Kaffir's other leg, a second diamond
being forced out of the man's elastic muscle, to be secured in turn.
"That will do," said the chief searcher, after a quick glance down the
Kaffir's arms, the man scowling and looking depressed as he was
marched away.
"Almost a pity you didn't back your opinion heavily, Mr Anson, eh?"
added the official.
"Well, I am deceived," said Anson, wrinkling up his forehead. "Who'd

ever have thought of that?"
"The Kaffirs, seemingly," said Ingleborough coolly? and he smiled in
Anson's disconsolate face.
"But it's wicked," cried Anson, "downright wicked for a man to cut
himself like that for the sake of a bit of glittering glass. I say, mustn't it
hurt very much?"
"Can't say," said West merrily. "Try!"
"What, me?" cried Anson, looking startled and involuntarily thrusting
his hands down to touch the parts in question. "Oh no! It's horrible
what people will do for the sake of gain."
"Quite sure you wouldn't like to try, Mr Anson?" said the searcher. "I'll
do it for you if you like. Only wants a very sharp knife and a good hard
pinch to numb the muscle; then it's done in a few minutes--one good
cut, the stone pressed in, and the cold surface makes the skin contract."
Anson's face seemed to curdle up, and two creases formed, one round
each corner of his mouth, as if putting it