e key--they're cunning as the devil--half-castes--and as
treacherous--I know them--I've had my own good reasons for not letting
one of them inside the fence of my head-station.'

'That may be--I can only say what I know, and you can form your own
opinion.'

'Say what you know then--I'm waiting to hear. But be quick about it,
man, I've no time to waste this morning.'

Harris began his tale--how he had watched at the window of his little
room, till after midnight, his gun ready, his eyes glued on the
padlocked door opposite; how overcome with drowsiness against which he
had vainly struggled--'for a man that's been pretty near two days and
nights in the saddle may be excused if his eyes begin blinking,' Harris
put it. He had dropped dead asleep--he confessed it--at his post. Then,
how on awakening suddenly, for no apparent reason, all seeming quiet
around, he had got up as he was, half dressed and in his boots--had
stepped across to the hide-house, had found the padlock intact and,
hearing no sound, had concluded the black-boy was inside safe asleep.
How then, with a relieved mind, he had been going back to his
stretcher, when the noise of a goat bleating had set him on the
look-out from his veranda. How, presently, looking at the veranda
opposite, he had seen the door of Mr Maule's bedroom open, and a woman
come out, how she had stood a few moments facing him, with the
moonlight straight on her, so that there was no possibility of his
making a mistake. Harris paused. McKeith glared at the man, who, had he
been quick at psychological interpretations, would have read an awful
apprehension underlying the ill-restrained fury in the other's face.
The question came in hoarse jerks.

'What--Who--Who was it you saw--?'

'It was the Lady Bridget, Boss.... I--'

Before he could proceed, a strong arm struck out and McKeith's hand
clutched at the Police Inspector's neck.

'You hound! You contemptible skunk! Take back that lie, or I'll
throttle it in your throat.'

Harris was of powerful build also, and, moreover knew some tricks of
defence and assault. He freed himself by a dexterous duck of his head,
and a sharp shake of his body, and stepped backward so that the office
table was between him and his antagonist.

His face was scarlet, his bull's eyes protruded from their full
sockets. But he was wary, and not anxious to provoke the devil in
McKeith.

'Wait a bit,' he said thickly. 'If you'll keep your hands off me, and