"Wilfred is with Harold," she said, "and he will look after him. Van Zwieten knows that on the first sign of his breaking his promise I shall not spare him."
"But how will that affect him out there?" the girl asked dolefully.
"It won't affect him if he is openly on the side of the enemy; but if he is spying in the British camps he will be taken and shot. I don't think he can be with General Buller or Wilfred would have denounced him. He is probably at the Modder."
"But he may be with the enemy?"
"He may be. I have heard nothing of him since he left London. He went over to the Continent--so Wilfred found out--and sailed in a German liner for Delagoa Bay. Yes, he might be with the Boer forces, but I doubt it."
"Why do you doubt it?"
"My dear, Van Zwieten can do no harm to your husband except by treachery. Of course he might shoot him, or have him shot in open battle; but, after all, there would not be the same amount of certainty about that as there would be if he were to get rid of him by underhand means."
"It is terrible!" cried Brenda, wringing her hands. "I don't mind Harold fighting as a soldier should--all the other men are doing the same--but to have a private enemy like Van Zwieten is dreadful."
"I don't think he will find it so easy to do Harold any harm. After all, Brenda, your husband is no fool, and he is on his guard."
"I do wish I could go out to the front."