, sir, and the stuffing of
their saddles," cried Anson. "I have heard of the butts of rifles being
bored to hold a lot."

"So have I!" said the General; "but I fancy a wagon would be more likely
to supply hiding-places!"

"Oh yes, sir, but the police inspector searched my wagon, and did not
find any."

"You would have no objection, of course, being perfectly innocent," said
the General, "to some of my men searching your wagon?"

"Of course, I shouldn't like it, sir, but--"

"But? Ah, you mean conquest gives me the right of search?"

"It's like casting a slur on a man's character, sir."

"But it makes it shine out the brighter when you are proved to be
innocent! Here, sergeant, this case begins to be interesting! Search
our friend's wagon."

Anson tried to master a wince, and merely shrugged his shoulders,
standing with his hands in his pockets while the sergeant and his men
commenced their task, examining every part of the wagon while the
officers waited patiently, lighting up and smoking their cigars until
the sergeant came back to make his report.

"Well, what have you found?"

"Nothing but these, sir," replied the sergeant stiffly. "Tucked away
behind the doubled tilt they were, sir," and the man held out a
revolver, Anson's sword-stick, and his little mahogany flute-case.

"Humph! No diamonds, sergeant?"

"Not so much as a pin or ring, sir," replied the man.

"Are these yours, Mr Piet Retif?" said the General.

"The walking-stick and the flute-case are mine," said Anson coolly.
"The pistol must be the driver's. I had a rifle; but your men took that
away."

"Nothing else?" said the General.

"Nothing else, sir. We looked everywhere," replied the sergeant, and he
offered his superior the objects he had brought; but the General
shrugged his shoulders and looked at his officers, who each examined the
revolver, stick, and flute-case, and passed them back to the sergeant.

"Well, gentlemen," said the General, turning to West and Ingleborough:
"you hear. What have you to say now?"

"The prisoner owned to these things being his!" said Ingleborough.

"No, I didn't!" said Anson sharply. "Revolver isn't mine."

"Only lent to you, perhaps," said Ingleborough, taking the weapon from
the sergeant's hands and cocking it, making Anson wince.

"I'm not going to fire," said Ingleborough, smiling contemptuously, as
he held the pistol in both hands with his thumb-nails together on the
top of the but