“Looking as innocent as old Anson, only not so white,” whispered Ingleborough. “But we shall see.”
Chapter Two.
Black Innocents.
The examination of the men was not a pleasant duty, but it was carried out in the most matter-of-fact way by a couple of experienced white men, who began at once.
“Now, you,” cried the one who seemed to be the head; “this way.”
The big black spoken to stepped forward at once, smiling good-temperedly, and stopped by a heavy wooden stool, upon which he planted a foot, and in obedience to orders separated his toes in turn to show that he had no diamonds hidden between them. Then he was seized by the searchers, the first holding the black’s head on one side while his companion took hold of the lobe of the right ear and twisted it about, ending by thrusting in a small wooden scoop and afterwards turning it to act as a sound.
“Don’t seem to have a diamond in there,” said Anson, smiling and looking very innocent, but deeply interested. “Turn him over.”
But the searchers had not waited for Anson’s words, and were already turning the black’s head over, the man yielding himself to every push and thrust, smiling good-humouredly the while, though the treatment was decidedly rough.