‘Jack,’ I said, ‘I am going to dig you out of this jail!’

He looked incredulous, and said despondently, ’I’d rather stay here than go to the prison hospital.’

‘I’m not thinking of the prison hospital,’ simply to reassure him, and with absolutely no plan of procedure in mind I smiled wisely.

On my way back to the hotel I was perplexed and uncertain which end to try first—­the American Government or the Government of the Transvaal.  I decided upon the latter, and, assisted by Advocate Scholtz, set to work with such good effect that by the end of the day I had received permission to remove my invalid into a private house and personally attend him.  Captain Mein cabled to Mr. David Benjamin, who was in England, for the use of his cottage.  An answer returned within a few hours, granting us cordial possession.

I was told that we should be kept under strict guard and that an officer would be lodged in the house with us.  Colonel Bettington advised me to ask the Government that this officer might be Lieutenant de Korte, who was a gentleman, and a man of kindly instincts.  This I did, and again my wishes were generously considered.  My first act in the cottage home was to cable the United States Secretary of State of my privilege; Betty and my faithful housemaid, Parker, were allowed to be with us.

Thirteen men were stationed on guard around the tiny flower-covered cottage.  No letters or telegrams were allowed to be sent or received without first being read by Lieutenant de Korte; visitors were obliged to obtain permits to see us, and many were the times I saw my best friends hang disconsolate faces over the garden gate, because the prescribed number of passes had already been distributed.

The ladies of the house were allowed to go out twice in the week.  I never accepted this freedom.  Betty did once, and returning after hours was refused entrance by the sentinel.  Fortunately Mr. de Korte came to the rescue.  Another time, in consequence of a change of guard, he himself was obliged to show his papers before being allowed to leave the premises.  Lieutenant de Korte was excessively strict, as was his duty to the Government, but throughout the two weeks we were under his care he proved himself entirely worthy of Colonel Bettington’s praise, ‘A gentleman and a man of kindly instincts!’ One piece of kindness I particularly appreciated. He never wore his uniform in the house.  When he sat down to table it was in the usual evening dress of a man of the world, and our conversation was always on pleasant subjects.  We never forgot, however, that we were prisoners.  My husband and I slept like Royalty in the throne-room, with all the Court assembled.  One guard sat at our bedroom door, gun in hand, and two others on the verandah just outside the low window.  I could hear their breathing throughout the night.  My husband and I could never exchange a private word; sometimes I would write a