He withdrew to a short distance, briefly examined the packet, and slipped it into his own breast pocket with an extraordinary sense of exultation. He had succeeded where others had failed. He had boasted to Colonel Grey that he would get the letters or kill his man, and here were the letters that had cost so much safely in his possession...
He walked to where he had left his horse standing, and putting his foot in the stirrup, vaulted into the saddle. Then he gathered up his rein, and caught at the rein of the other horse.
“You can lower your hands,” he said; “but be careful what you do with them; I’m not uncovering you yet.”
Denzil dropped his hands to his sides, and watched with considerable interest the movements of the man who had so completely outwitted him.
“You are leaving me to tramp it, I suppose?” he said.
“I’m depriving you and Van Bleit of the means of following me,” was the brief answer.
“Van Bleit will never believe how entirely you surprised me,” Denzil returned dejectedly. “He’ll think I ought to have stuck to the packet at all costs. Man, I wonder if you know the value of what you’ve got there? Look here! ... Stop a bit!” ... His manner became eager and confidential. “Can’t we do a deal, you and I? ... Let me stand in with you—or, better still, give me a sum down, and I’ll let you into the know how to work those letters to the best advantage... What do you say, eh?”
“What I have to say won’t interest you,” Lawless replied. “If I hadn’t passed my word, I wouldn’t touch the damned letters, and the first thing I mean to do with them is to get rid of their charge... But not to you... If you had your deserts you would find yourself on the breakwater. Now, march!” he added. “Turn your back, and keep going.”
He had hardly issued the order when something happened that put an altogether different aspect upon the face of things. Inexplicably, he saw Denzil grinning as he abruptly turned about, and the next moment something hurtled through the air and fell about his shoulders, tightening with a suddenness that pinned his arms to his sides. The revolver flew from his hand, and simultaneously he was jerked violently out of the saddle. He fell heavily to the accompaniment of raucous laughter, and, lying on the veld, straining impotently at the cords that held him, he realised with bitter mortification that Karl Van Bleit had securely lassoed him by a cowboy trick he was an adept in.