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164 I am every bit as brave as Race—but I lack the figure. These long, lean, brown men have it all their own way.

"I suppose you'll be there," I said coldly.

"Very possibly. We might travel together."

"I'm not sure that I shan't stay on at the Falls a bit," I answered non-committally. Why is Race so anxious that I should go to Jo'burg? He's got his eye on Anne, I believe. "What are your plans, Miss Anne?"

"That depends," she replied demurely, copying me.

"I thought you were my secretary," I objected.

"Oh, but I've been cut out. You've been holding Miss Pettigrew's hand all the afternoon."

"Whatever I've been doing, I can swear I've not been doing that," I assured her.

Thursday night.

We have just left Kimberley. Race was made to tell the story of the diamond robbery all over again. Why are women so excited by anything to do with diamonds?

At last Anne Beddingfeld has shed her veil of mystery. It seems that she's a newspaper correspondent. She sent an immense cable from De Aar this morning. To judge by the jabbering that went on nearly all night in Mrs. Blair's cabin, she must have been reading aloud all her special articles for years to come.

It seems that all along she's been on the track of "The Man in the Brown Suit." Apparently she didn't spot him on the Kilmorden—in fact, she hardly had the chance, but she's now very busy cabling home: "How I journeyed out with the Murderer," and inventing highly fictitious stories of "What he said to me," etc. I know how these things are done. I do them myself, in my Reminiscences when Pagett will let me. And of course one of Nasby's efficient staff will brighten up the details