She looked him straight between the hot fierce eyes, and spoke out pluckily.
"They are not my property. I hired the trap and the trotter from a hotel-keeper at Gueldersdorp. And Mr. Van Busch tells me that they have recently been commandeered for the service of the United Forces of the Transvaal and Orange Free State."
"So!... Well, that is what I would have done, if they were worth having. Where is Van Busch?" The angry glance pounced on that patriot in the remote corner to which he had modestly retired. Van Busch cringed forwards, hat in hand, explaining:
"The English Mevrouw mistakes, Myjnheer. Sure, now, I never told her anything of that kind. How could I, when there was no mare and no spider? Didn't I drive her and the other woman over from Haargrond, with Bough's little beast pulling in a cart of my own? Call the other woman, and she will tell you it was as I say."
Lady Hannah, supremely disdainful, turned her back upon the liar....
"So, then, you are not willing to go back in a veld waggon?" demanded the bullying voice.
"I'm willing to go back in anything that isn't a coffin," she declared.
He gave the wooden chuckle, swung about and trampled to the door, calling to Van Busch in the tone of a dog's master:
"Here, you ...!"
Van Busch followed, wriggling as obsequiously as the dog with a stolen mutton-chop upon his conscience. The door slammed, the key turned roughly in the lock. Lady Hannah, oblivious of the absence of outdoor footwear, flew joyously to cram a few belongings into her travelling-bag and resume her discarded hat.