"Hope you'll excuse me," he remarked. "There's something that demands my immediate attention. The boys will entertain you, I know."
He went out, considering that, in the circumstances, it was the best thing to do. Had he remained, he would have had to take part in the conversation, which was likely to reach an awkward stage. Until he knew how matters stood he preferred to keep out of the way.
Colin and Tiny played their part well. Keeping to general topics, they maintained a full-head of steam until the somewhat retiring old farmer began to feel quite at home, still more so when, at the conclusion of the meal, black coffee was served and a bag of Boer tobacco placed at Van der Wyck's disposal.
It was not until the evening that the chums found Colonel Narfield alone.
"You've landed yourselves in a pretty hole," he remarked with a laugh. "Saddling yourselves with the wrong man."
"It was your scheme, sir," Colin reminded him. "We knew nothing about your having invited him until a few weeks ago. It's a strange coincidence: he has the same box-office—No. 445—as the number the other Van der Wyck gave us."
"Evidently your pal knows this fellow," remarked Colonel Narfield. "For some reason he's working a double stunt. By-the-bye, did you ask our guest if he knew of a certain Jan Groute?"
"The fellow who held up the train near Vryburg?" asked Desmond.
Colonel Narfield nodded.
"We didn't," replied both lads.