“Well,” said Nairn, with simple directness, “your case is peculiar. I had a certain sympathy with you, you see, for we are all outlaws together—I from choice!”
Both men coloured faintly, and Geddy asked at once:
“How could you know that at the time? How did you know us—or me?”
“My dear fellow, I knew you by several means. In the first place, I had met you before—you see, I do not see so many white faces that I can’t remember them; and in the second place, the umfaan to whom you spoke that night, you recollect, also recognised you.”
Geddy, who recalled in a flash both the question he had asked that night and the answer given by the boy, shrank under Nairn’s direct, calm look.
“But,” he continued without pause, “you forget—or did you not know?—that for a month there was a detachment of police on the watch for you here.”
“Lucifer! What luck we didn’t come sooner!” exclaimed Heron, aghast. “They’d have had us, as sure as God made little apples!”
“Oh, that was all right,” said Nairn, smiling. “I was well posted as to their plans and movements. You see, I heard of your affair in Delagoa, and I knew you had gone for a spell to Mahaash’s and Sebougwaan’s, and you were safe enough there. In any case, I took the precaution of sending word to Mahaash to stop you if you wanted to come back before the coast was clear. He had a letter for you from me for some time, but returned it yesterday with a message to say you were coming this way, and that was why I was expecting you when you turned up this morning.”
Geddy put out his hand, saying:
“By God, Nairn, you are a trump! You’ve been a perfect Providence to us; and—and I take back all I said about you that other time.”