“Sit in the sun and rest, I think, dear.”
“Yes, let us do that, on the top of the wall. We can see the Makalanga from there, and it will be a comfort to be sure that there are other human beings left in the world besides ourselves and Jacob Meyer.”
So presently they went, and from the spot whence Meyer used to shoot at the Matabele camp, looked down upon the Makalanga moving about the first enclosure far below. By the aid of the glasses Benita even thought that she recognised Tamas, although of this it was difficult to be sure, for they were all very much alike. Still, the discovery quite excited her.
“I am sure it is Tamas,” she said. “And oh! how I wish that we were down there with him, although it is true that then we should be nearer to the Matabele. But they are better than Mr. Meyer, much better.”
Now for a while they were silent, till at length she said suddenly:
“Father, you are keeping something back from me, and things begin to come back. Tell me; did I go anywhere last night with Mr. Meyer—you and he and I together?”
He hesitated and looked guilty; Mr. Clifford was not a good actor.
“I see that we did; I am sure that we did. Father, tell me. I must know, I will know.”
Then he gave way.
“I didn’t want to speak, dear, but perhaps it is best. It is a very
strange story. Will you promise not to be upset?”
“I will promise not to be more upset than I am at present,” she answered, with a sad little laugh. “Go on.”
“You remember that Jacob Meyer wanted to mesmerize you?”
“I am not likely to forget it,” she answered.
“Well, last night he did mesmerize you.”
“What?” she said. “What? Oh! how dreadful! Now I understand it all. But when?”
“When you were sound asleep, I suppose. At least, the first I knew of it was that some noise woke me, and I came out of the hut to see you following him like a dead woman, with a lamp in your hand.”
Then he told her all the story, while she listened aghast.
“How dared he!” she gasped, when her father had finished the long tale. “I hate him; I almost wish that you had killed him,” and she clenched her little hands and shook them in the air.
“That is not very Christian of you, Miss Clifford,” said a voice behind her. “But it is past one o’clock, and as I am still alive I have come to tell you that it is time for luncheon.”
Benita wheeled round upon the stone on which she sat, and there, standing amidst the bushes a little way from the foot of the wall, was Jacob Meyer. Their eyes met; hers were full of defiance, and his of conscious power.
“I do not want any luncheon, Mr. Meyer,” she said.
“But I am sure that you do. Please come down and have some. Please come down.”
The words were spoken humbly, almost pleadingly, yet to Benita they seemed as a command. At any rate, with slow reluctance she climbed down the shattered wall, followed by her father, and without speaking they went back to their camping place, all three of them, Jacob leading the way.
When they had eaten, or made pretence to eat, he spoke.
“I see that your father has told you everything, Miss Clifford, and of that I am glad. As for me, it would have been awkward, who must ask your forgiveness for so much. But what could I do? I knew, as I have always known, that it was only possible to find this treasure by your help. So I gave you something to make you sleep, and then in your sleep I hypnotized you, and—you know the rest. I have great experience in this art, but I have never seen or heard of anything like what happened, and I hope I never shall again.”
Hitherto Benita had sat silent, but now her burning indignation and curiosity overcame her shame and hatred.
“Mr. Meyer,” she said, “you have done a shameful and a wicked thing, and I tell you at once that I can never forgive you.”