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?”