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Rh righteously indignant commandant ordered an immediate raid on it.

He got there three minutes too late. Salter was unconscious, and bleeding to death with five bullet holes in him. The inspector was insensible too, but he revived and lived long enough to give the true story of what had happened. The Dutch policeman wisely concluded that a process of white-washing would be good for his soul, so he had the inspector's body conveyed with all honour across the border, and delivered it to the British authorities with such an account of the night's doings as fully insured their being the last of the exploits of the Border Gang.

"Yes," said the gentleman who had given me the main points of the foregoing narrative as we sat under the verandah in the garden of the Central one night after dinner; "yes; Lipinzki was a good sort, a very good