"Two men from headquarters," muttered Townsend, bewildered. "Who can they be and what do they want?"
"I don't know what they want," said Matt, "but one of them is the assistant chief, Mr. Fetterman."
"Something else is going wrong," fretted Townsend, "and I know it. These diamonds seem to carry a curse with them."
"D'you feel strong enough, cap'n, to have more visitors?" asked Cassidy.
"I should be badly worried if I couldn't hear, without delay, what Fetterman and this other man have to tell me."
The assistant chief came in accompanied by a blond, stoutly built person whom he introduced as Mr. Shirley, of Scotland Yard.
Mr. Shirley was genial and made friends for himself right away.
"You're a sick man, I'm told, Mr. Townsend," said he, "and I'm going to begin at once what I have to say and come to an end as briefly as possible. I had best begin in South Africa where——"
"South Africa?" echoed Townsend.