By this time the lookers-on were as much disgusted as the superintendent.
“I’m very sorry, gentlemen,” he cried; “but I can do no more. There is nothing else to be done unless we have my men in and regularly strip the wood-work down.”
“Oh, pray have them in, then,” cried Anson. “If I were you I’d—”
“Silence, sir!” cried the chief director fiercely, and Anson stared. “We have not the slightest doubt of your guilt. Your conduct all through has proved it. That will do, Mr Norton.”
“You think the evidence sufficient to justify an arrest, gentlemen?”
“We will consult together,” replied the director who had just spoken, “and communicate our decision to you.”
“What, aren’t you satisfied yet?” cried Anson mockingly.
“Quite,” replied his chief; “and of course, sir, your post is vacant. For the present, Mr Norton, you will keep an eye upon this man, and see that he does not leave the town.”
“Unless I’m very much mistaken, sir,” said the superintendent, “neither our friend here nor anyone else will leave Kimberley for some time to come.”
“Is it so bad as that?”