Mr Timson felt that in an hour or so he would know his fate, and as he gazed at the mean-looking Dutch farm-house, visions came before him of the house in London and the country place he would soon be the owner of. “Wonder how Hardman will do as a man of property? He’s a smart chip, but not quite one of us,” he thought to himself. As they came near to the house they saw Mr Ziederman sitting on a chair on the stoep of the house, staring after the manner of a Dutch boer into the far distance at nothing at all. When their cart drove up he turned round and stared at it, but no gleam of intelligence came into his face; he evidently was, so Mr Timson thought, a very crude specimen of the Dutchman. It would be very tedious to narrate all the conversation which took place after the two had got out of their cart, and had shaken the grimy, flabby hand which Mr Ziederman held out to them. Gradually, and with very much caution, Mr Hardman approached the subject of the purchase of the farm. Would Mr Ziederman care to sell it? they wished to set up a store and canteen, and would like to have the farm for keeping stock on, was the question which, after much fencing, he asked.
“Yes, I will sell the farm. Ten thousand pounds, and you may have Boschfontein, but for not one dollar less,” answered Mr Ziederman, looking as stolid as ever.
“Ten thousand pounds, mein herr! you are joking. The farm is not worth one twentieth part of that,” said Hardman.
Mr Timson tried to look as if he were more surprised than disappointed.
“Never mind, the farm is worth more than that. I know something that you perhaps know and perhaps don’t know. There are diamonds on my farm.”
Mr Timson began to feel that all his hopes were going to be dashed to the ground.
“Diamonds, mein herr! there are no diamonds out in this direction, and me and my partner don’t want to have anything to do with diamonds, they ain’t in our line; we want to keep a store and raise stock.”
“Then you don’t want to buy the Farm Boschfontein, because the Farm Boschfontein has diamonds,” answered Ziederman. “See here, I will show you something,” he added, as he went into his house and came out with something in his hand; “see what my herd boy found near the kopje yonder,” he said as he pointed in the direction of the mine. It was a ten-carat white diamond he had in his hand, and one of the partners felt something out of heart when he saw it. It was useless to try and persuade Ziederman that the stone was not a diamond.
“Yes, I always knew there were some diamonds on my farm, but I would not say anything about them, for I knew diamonds bring English diggers on one’s farm; but I said to myself, ‘If I ever sell Boschfontein I will get plenty of money for it.’ I want ten thousand pounds!” he said as he lit his pipe again, looking as if he did not care whether he sold the farm or no. “If you like to buy it for the money, well; if not, I will have it prospected, and then I will sell it for what it will bring.”
Hardman touched Timson on the shoulder and they walked away from the house together. “See here,” he said, when they were out of hearing of Ziederman, who sat smoking with a placid expression on his face, “what can we do? I can only raise two thousand pounds. I don’t like to let the thing slip from me, though, and once let him have the farm prospected and find out how rich it is, what we know is worth nothing to us.”