Every man looked at his neighbour with a face like an interrogation point, as if to ask, “Who next?”
The diamond market was crowded with men, gathered in groups, earnestly discussing the exposé, and the fatal dénouement.
No one had stood higher in the esteem of the people than Count Telfus.
Among the first to engage in the diamond trade in Kimberley, he had enjoyed the confidence of his associates, and, up to the day of his arrest, no breath of suspicion had dimmed the lustre of his name. It was evident that the numerous thefts of precious stones by the Kafirs had aroused the authorities to their highest endeavour, and no one knew on whom the next bolt of discovery might fall.
With Telfus guilty, whose name might not be found on the list of I.D.B.’s?
There were few among those engaged in this unlawful trade whose minds were free from anxiety, for even the guiltless might find his name in the Doomsday book as among the suspected. When Donald reached home that evening he found Dainty anxiously awaiting his return. The excitement caused by the arrest and death of Count Telfus had reached every class, and the unusual stir among the domestics had filled her mind with dire apprehensions. She immediately inquired if there were any further developments.
“The town is greatly excited. Dr Fox has written to the Count’s family in Paris, that the Count was accidentally killed, but carefully avoided any mention of the true cause of his death. Poor Telfus!”
Dainty sighed, for the Count had been a frequent visitor, and his face always brought sunshine into the house.
“Do you think he was guilty?”
“Rumour says the police sold a marked diamond to a Kafir for a song, and then watched him. By some strange fatality it fell into Telfus’ hands.”