Dick went out softly.  When he got outside the door, he drew them all apart, and said, “Yuke, you are a good-hearted girl.  I’ll never forget this while I live; and, Tim, there’s a shilling for thee; but don’t you go and spend it in Cape smoke; that is poison to whites, and destruction to blacks.”

“No, master,” said Tim.  “I shall buy much bread, and make my tomach tiff;” then, with a glance of reproach at the domestic caterer, Ucatella, “I almost never have my tomach tiff.”

Dick left his sister alone an hour or two, to have her cry out.

When he went back to her there was a change:  the brave woman no longer lay prostrate.  She went about her business; only she was always either crying or drowning her tears.

He brought Dr. Staines in.  Phoebe instantly turned her back on him with a shudder there was no mistaking.

“I had better go,” said Staines.  “Mrs. Falcon will never forgive me.”

“She will have to quarrel with me else,” said Dick steadily.  “Sit you down, doctor.  Honest folk like you and me and Phoebe wasn’t made to quarrel for want of looking a thing all round.  My sister she hasn’t looked it all round, and I have.  Come, Pheeb, ’tis no use your blinding yourself.  How was the poor doctor to know your husband is a blackguard?”

“He is not a blackguard.  How dare you say that to my face?”

“He is a blackguard, and always was.  And now he is a thief to boot.  He has stolen those diamonds; you know that very well.”

“Gently, Mr. Dale; you forget:  they are as much his as mine.”

“Well, and if half a sheep is mine, and I take the whole and sell him, and keep the money, what is that but stealing?  Why, I wonder at you, Pheeb.  You was always honest yourself, and yet you see the doctor robbed by your man, and that does not trouble you.  What has he done to deserve it?  He has been a good friend to us.  He has put us on the road.  We did little more than keep the pot boiling before he came—­well, yes, we stored grain; but whose advice has turned that grain to gold, I might say?  Well, what’s his offence?  He trusted the diamonds to your man, and sent him to you.  Is he the first honest man that has trusted a rogue?  How was he to know?  Likely he judged the husband by the wife.  Answer me one thing, Pheeb.  If he makes away with fifteen hundred pounds that is his, or partly yours—­for he has eaten your bread ever since I knew him—­and fifteen hundred more that is the doctor’s, where shall we find fifteen hundred pounds, all in a moment, to pay the doctor back his own?”

“My honest friend,” said Staines, “you are tormenting yourself with shadows.  I don’t believe Mr. Falcon will wrong me of a shilling; and, if he does, I shall quietly repay myself out of the big diamond.  Yes, my dear friends, I did not throw away your horse, nor your rifle, nor your money:  I gave them all, and the lion’s skin—­I gave them all—­for this.”