“Say anything to chaff old Anson. Did you see how he behaved?”
“I saw him smile like a Chinese mandarin ornament. That’s all.”
“I saw him smile and look smooth; but he can’t bear a joke. His hands were all of a tremble as he buttoned up his jacket, and there was a peculiar look in his eye. It’s not good policy to make enemies.”
“Nonsense! He’s a poor slack-baked animal. I wonder they ever had him here.”
West glanced back; but Anson had not yet left the office.
“Relative of one of the directors,” said West quickly; “and I’ve noticed several things lately to make me think he does not like us.”
“Oh, if you come to that,” said Ingleborough, “so have I. That’s quite natural, for we don’t like him. One can’t; he’s so smooth and soft. But why doesn’t he come? I’ll just give him a minute after we get up to the compound gate, and if he is not there then he’ll have to stay outside.”
“Here he comes,” cried West, and the next minute their fellow-clerk joined them, just as they got up to a gate in the high fence of the enclosure where the Kaffir workers about the diamond-mines were kept to all intents prisoners till they had served the time for which they had engaged.
“Haven’t kept you two waiting, have I?” said Anson, with a pleasant smile directed at both.
“No, no, all right,” replied West, and directly after they were admitted to the compound, just in time to find that half-a-dozen of the stalwart Kaffir workers were standing perfectly nude awaiting the examination about to be made by some of the officers—an examination which they seemed to look upon as a joke, for they laughed and chatted together.