“And, I say,” said Ingleborough: “keep your eye on that scoundrel.”
“Anson? Oh yes: trust me! I haven’t done with that gentleman yet.”
Directly after they were on their way to the director’s room, and as they neared the door they could hear him pacing impatiently up and down as if suffering from extreme anxiety.
The step ceased as they reached and gave a tap at the door, and Mr Allan opened to them himself.
“Well,” he said, “has the Commandant decided to send you?”
“Yes, sir,” replied West.
“I’m very sorry, and I’m very glad; for it must be done, and I know no one more likely to get through the Boer lines than you two. Look here, you’ll want money. Take these. No questions, no hesitation, my lads; buckle on the belts beneath your waistcoats. Money is the sinews of war, and you are going where you will want sinews and bones, bones and sinews too.”
In his eagerness the director helped the young men to buckle on the two cash-belts he had given them.
“There,” he said; “that is all I can do for you but wish you good luck. By the time you come back we shall have sent the Boers to the right-about, unless they have captured Kimberley and seized the diamond-mines. Then, of course, my occupation will be gone. Goodbye. Not hard-hearted, my boys; but rather disposed to be soft. There, goodbye.”
“Now then,” said West, “we’ve no time to spare. What are we going to do about horses?”