No concealment possible now!
"A saddle, sir."
"A saddle! Whose, and where are you taking it?"
"From Mr. Botha to Mr. Els in town. On my way I was stopped and asked to take some passengers to the asylum, which I have just done. I was going to Mr. Botha when you stopped me."
The officer looks doubtful, feels the bag all over and, taking a notebook from his pocket, enters all the details of this most suspicious-looking affair, the number of the cab, the name and address of the driver, the names and full addresses of the two men who have been mentioned.
Then he gets in and peremptorily orders the cabman to drive to such-and-such an hotel in the centre of the town.
With a throb of relief Delport deposits his fare at the hotel and, whipping up his horses, drives at the utmost speed to Mr. Els' house, to warn him of the danger he is in.
Mr. and Mrs. Botha have just retired for the night, when they are aroused by a hurried knock at the front door. They admit two girls, one of them the daughter of Mrs. Els, the other a sister to Mrs. Naudé, both extremely agitated.
"Oom Willie, you must please come to our house at once. My father is very ill."