“Oh yes, it is his, I believe,” said Ingleborough.
“Then what have you against him?”
“Only that he’s a renegade Englishman, a man who deserted from Kimberley to the Boers.”
“It’s a lie, sergeant,” cried the man excitedly.
“That’s good English,” cried Ingleborough. “I told you I had worked a miracle; now perhaps I can make him say a little more. He’s an illicit-diamond merchant and cheat as well, and his name is not Piet Retif, but James Anson, late clerk to the Kimberley Company. What do you say, West?”
“The same as you,” replied West.
“It is a lie!” cried the man. “Piet Retif, dealer in mealies and corn.”
“Mealies and corn!” cried Ingleborough scornfully. “The man is what I say: an utter scoundrel, cheat, and, worse than all, a renegade and deserter to the Boers.”
Anson’s jaw dropped, and his face seemed to turn from a warm pink to green.