Alfred Dow was close to Bert; Mrs. Cooper and her daughters not far off.
The Captain listened with perfect calmness. When it was done, he said quietly: "That all?"
"That's all; and if I were Burmester, I'd think it enough," he said, laughing brutally.
"Well," said Bert, "then my turn comes. You have had no scruple in saying this abominable thing out before ladies, which alone might have opened their eyes as to the kind of refuse you are; so I have no scruple in telling you, before ladies, that you lie. You lie, sir, as a Boer traitor might be expected to do. Yes, grin! Show them all the false teeth you wear in place of those Mestaer knocked down your throat on the day you laid your plans against Miss Lutwyche! Hold your tongue! You've had your innings this afternoon; now I'm going to have mine! You lied again when you said Mestaer was shot. He is alive, as you probably know. What you don't know is that he is in England. The Bishop of Pretoria is in England too. Both these witnesses can prove the untruth of your story, as you know; and I both can and will produce them—not here, but in open court, unless you confess yourself a malicious liar, and offer a public apology. If you don't withdraw every word you have said against Miss Lutwyche this afternoon, you shall pay such swingeing damages as shall exhaust the last of the loot you stole when you were in the Boer Irish Brigade, before the taking of Kroonstadt. Ha, you see, I know!"
He had spoken without a pause. The white intensity of his rage had carried him along, and the silent sympathy of the excited audience seemed to make itself felt. Amurrica had several times tried to break in, but in vain. But now he uttered a howl of rage, and fuming, turned to those about him.
"He thinks to frighten me! He thinks he can— By the—— Who are you, sir? Who are you to take up the cudgels for this young lady?"
"I have the privilege to be a friend of Miss Lutwyche," said Hubert, raising his hat as he spoke with a quiet grace which gave the effect of saluting her name. "I also know the Orange Colony like the palm of my hand. There's not a man in that colony that would believe you on your oath. If I allowed this gathering to disperse without knowing you for the scoundrel you are, I should be failing in my duty to this country. Ladies and gentlemen, you have heard the slander uttered by this renegade. I shall now tell you the truth, in as few words as possible. Miss Lutwyche was left an orphan at the age of sixteen, in a Boer village which a year or two before had got filled with sweepings from other parts of Africa, come there in search of diamonds. This man, who had long cast eyes on her, paid her stepmother a sum of money to hand her over to him on her father's death. But Mr. Mayne, the chaplain, had been left her guardian, which interfered with their design. Mayne had to go away on urgent business connected with the will. In his absence it was plotted that Otis should go through a form of marriage with the girl at the hands of the Boer Predikant. But, as they knew the indomitable spirit of Miss Lutwyche, the Boer woman thrashed her within an inch of her life to reduce her to a proper state of submission. In escaping from her torturers, she fell down a ladder, and dislocated her arm. That seems to have frightened them somewhat, for they let her creep away to her garret to die. Mestaer, who had been asked by Mayne to keep watch, went to the house, found her lying in a pool of blood, and carried her to his home. Where else could he have taken her? He put her in charge of his housekeeper, fetched a doctor at once, and mounted guard until Mayne's return, when he went off to the war. Now, you ask that boy there, whether this is true or no. Here, boy! did your mother sjambok your sister?"
All eyes were turned upon the uncouth lad. He lifted his eyes to his questioner with a very curious look; he did not seem to notice Otis, who still kept a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Yes, she did," he replied sulkily.
"Was it done at Otis's suggestion?"