r kraals, after having been rigorously searched to make
certain that they have no diamonds on them. Scores of white men are
employed in the business of guarding, watching, and searching the
natives, and it was over these men and, indirectly, over the natives,
also, that Leonard Drummund was manager, his job obliging him and his
wife to live far from the fashionable quarter of Kimberley.

Their house, in fact, though outside the compound, was close beside it
and within the grounds of the company, being fenced off from the town
by a high wire fence. The only entrance into this enclosure was an
enormous iron gate through which all friends of the Drummunds or
visitors to the compound had to pass, under the scrutinizing stare of
the man on guard, who had also the right to challenge persons as to
what business took them into the company's grounds. It was thus that
De Beers guarded, and still do guard to this day, the diamond industry
from thieves and pirates, and would-be members of the illicit
diamond-buying trade.

Through this big gate, on the afternoon after the club ball, Rosanne
passed unchallenged, as she was in the habit of doing four or five
times a week, being well known to all the guards as a friend of Mrs.
Drummund's. Many of the guards were acquaintances of hers, also, for,
when they were not in the act of guarding, they were young men about
town, qualifying for bigger positions in the company's employ. The
young fellow on guard that day had danced with Rosanne the night
before, and when she went through she gave him a smile and a friendly
nod. He thought what a lovely, proud little face she had, and that
that fellow Harlenden would be a lucky man to get her, even if he were
a baronet.

Kitty Drummund, among cushions and flowers, behind the green blinds of
her veranda, was waiting in a hammock for her friend. For a very happy
reason she had been obliged to forego gaieties for a time; but her
interest in them remained, and she was dying to hear all about the
ball. Rosanne, however, seemed far from being in her usual vein of
quips and quirks and bright, ironical sayings about the world in
general. Indeed, her conversation was of the most desultory
description, and Kitty gleaned little more news of her than she had
already found in the morning newspaper. Between detached snatches of
talk, the girl fell into long moments of moody silence, and even tea
and cigarettes did not unknit her brow or loose her t