“Wet nights?” I queried, wishing for a clearer explanation.

“Yes, he is a grand old fellow, one of the best, but like most other people he has his little weaknesses, and when the fit is on him he can put away a surprising amount of liquor.  I tell you so that you should not be astonished if you notice anything, or try to argue with him when he is in that state, as then his temper is apt to be—­well, lively.  Now I must go and give him a pint of warm milk; that is his favourite antidote, and in fact the best there is.”

I thought to myself that we had struck a nice establishment in which to be tied, literally by the leg, for an indefinite period.  I was not particularly flush at the time, but I know I would have paid a #100 to be out of it; before the end I should have been glad to throw in everything that I had.  But mercifully that was hidden from me.

Rodd and I breakfasted together and discoursed of Kaffir customs, as to which he was singularly well informed.  Then I accompanied him to see his native patients in the little hospital of which I have spoken.  Believing the man to be a thorough scamp as I did, it was astonishing to me to note how gentle and forbearing he was to these people.  Of his skill I need say nothing, as that was evident.  He was going to perform an internal operation upon a burly old savage, rather a serious one I believe; at any rate it necessitated chloroform.  He asked me if I would like to assist, but I declined respectfully, having no taste for such things.  So I left him boiling his instruments and putting on what looked like a clean nightgown over his clothes, and returned to the stoep.

Here I found Marnham, whose eyes were rather bloodshot, though otherwise, except for a shaky hand, he seemed right enough.  He murmured something about having overslept himself and inquired very politely, for his manners were beautiful, after Anscombe and as to whether we were quite comfortable and so forth.  After this I consulted him as to the best road for our servants to travel by to Pretoria, and later on despatched them, giving Footsack various notes to ensure the delivery of the oxen to him.  Also I gave him some money to pay for their keep and told him with many threats to get back with the beasts as quick as he could travel.  Then I sent him and the two other boys off, not without misgivings, although he was an experienced man in his way and promised faithfully to fulfil every injunction to the letter.  To me he seemed so curiously glad to go that I inquired the reason, since after a journey like ours, it would have been more natural if he had wished to rest.

“Oh!  Baas,” he said, “I don’t think this Tampel very healthy for coloured people.  I am told of some who have died here.  That man Karl who gave me the diamond, I think he must have died also, at least I saw his spook last night standing over me and shaking his head, and the boys saw it too.”