“HONOURED SIR,—I knew that I was putting my money on the right horse when I said the other day that you were one of the straightest that ever ran. Well, I have got the cheque sent me by the lawyer on your account, being payment in full for every farthing I invested in the Bona Fide Gold Mine, and I can only say that it is uncommonly useful, for that business had pretty well cleaned me out. God bless you, Mr. Quatermain.”
I opened another letter, and another, and another. They were all to the same effect. Bewildered I went on to the stoep, where I found Hans with an epistle in his hand which he requested me to be good enough to read. I read it. It was from a well-known firm of local lawyers and said:
“On behalf of Allan Quatermain, Esq., we beg to enclose a draft for the sum of £650, being the value of the interest in the Bona Fide Gold Company, Limited (in liquidation), which stands in your name on the books of the company. Please sign enclosed receipt and return same to us.”
Yes, and there was the draft for £650 sterling!
I explained the matter to Hans, or rather I translated the document, adding:
“You see you have got your money back again. But Hans, I never sent it; I don’t know where it comes from.”
“Is it money, Baas?” asked Hans, surveying the draft with suspicion. “It looks very much like the other bit of paper for which I paid money.”
Again I explained, reiterating that I knew nothing of the transaction.
“Well, Baas,” he said, “if you did not send it someone did—perhaps your father the reverend Predikant, who sees that you are in trouble and wishes to wash your name white again. Meanwhile, Baas, please put that bit of paper in your pocket-book and keep it for me, for otherwise I might be tempted to buy square-face with it.”
“No,” I answered, “you can now buy your land back, or some other land, and there will be no need for you to come with me to the country of the Kendah.”