“Humph! No diamonds, sergeant?”
“Not so much as a pin or ring, sir,” replied the man.
“Are these yours, Mr Piet Retif?” said the General.
“The walking-stick and the flute-case are mine,” said Anson coolly. “The pistol must be the driver’s. I had a rifle; but your men took that away.”
“Nothing else?” said the General.
“Nothing else, sir. We looked everywhere,” replied the sergeant, and he offered his superior the objects he had brought; but the General shrugged his shoulders and looked at his officers, who each examined the revolver, stick, and flute-case, and passed them back to the sergeant.
“Well, gentlemen,” said the General, turning to West and Ingleborough: “you hear. What have you to say now?”
“The prisoner owned to these things being his!” said Ingleborough.
“No, I didn’t!” said Anson sharply. “Revolver isn’t mine.”
“Only lent to you, perhaps,” said Ingleborough, taking the weapon from the sergeant’s hands and cocking it, making Anson wince.