"It is wholly untrue, Piet Bok!" cried Harold, furious at the man's audacious mendacity. "I did not kill Malet; I did not know at that time that he was betraying his own country to Van Zwieten. This man's one idea is to get me put out of the way that he may marry my wife, who hates him; and he cares not how he achieves his desire so long as he does achieve it."
"I hate him!--oh, how I hate him!" cried Brenda. "I will kill myself rather than have anything to do with him. If my husband dies I will die too. Oh, Mynheer Bok, save me; save my husband from that man!"
"If you do not shoot the murderer," Van Zwieten said in his turn, "you are no friend to the Republic, Piet Bok!"
The big Boer turned round and cursed him for his words.
"I am a true burgher of the Transvaal," said Piet Bok, with vehemence, "and you are an outlander; one of those rats who want to creep into our corn rick and grow fat. The whole of the war is the doing of such as you. What do you know about me in connection with my own country? Nothing. And what you say about these people is untrue. The woman hates you. You would kill her husband to marry her against her will. As to the rooinek, he is not the kind of man to murder. With my own eyes I saw him spare my boy, Hans. You shall harm neither of them."
"What will you do, then?" shouted Van Zwieten, furiously.
"Send them to Pretoria as prisoners. Yes; but not in your charge, mark you. You would kill them on the road. I command here, Van Zwieten. Go out, mynheer, and get your men together. The British are advancing and I have no fancy for being trapped. Go!"
"But these two!" said the other.
"I will be responsible for these two," thundered Piet Bok. "Do you want to be shot yourself? That you will be, unless you obey instantly."
Very unwillingly Van Zwieten turned and went, and they heard his voice outside shouting to his men. Brenda sprang forward and kissed Bok's hand. "Thank you, mynheer, for your goodness. God bless you!"