nk? Why, that it's a good study of a dissecting-room subject, but a
beastly thing to spring upon any one just after breakfast. Where did
you get it?" handing it back.

"It was taken below the Bobi drift. A head was found sticking in the
bushes, also some clothes, with things in the pockets. I, before that,
found a saddle with a bullet hole through the flap."

"Yes; you told us that at the club the other night, I remember. So
they've found more?"

Stride was puzzled. He thought to have knocked the enemy all of a heap,
but the said enemy had never wilted, beyond what a man might naturally
do who had an unusually ghastly and repulsive picture suddenly sprung
upon him, as Denham had said, just after breakfast.

"But isn't it our turn to be let into the mystery?" suggested Verna
sweetly.

"Oh, I don't know. No; I won't show it to you," answered Stride. "It
is rather nasty, isn't it, Mr Halse?" handing it on to him.

"Looks so. Ugly-looking Jew, I should say. Wonder what the devil he
was doing down there. I suppose they shot him for plunder. Zulus are
not what they were. Time was when a white man was perfectly safe in any
part of this country. Who took the photo, by the way?"

"Dickinson, at Makanya."

"Oh yes, the police sergeant. Well, have they investigated?"

"Rather. They've got at his identity, too. He was a Jo'burg Jew named
Hyam Golding. The next thing is to find out what induced him to travel
that way at all. It doesn't lead anywhere in particular."

"Let me see it," said Verna. "I'm not of the hysterical,
`fainting-female' order, am I? Thanks," as it was handed to her. "What
a horrid-looking man he must have been. I mean apart from the
conditions under which this was taken. Let's see some of the others."

He complied. One he kept out, and handed it to Denham.

"Do you recognise it?" he asked. "You came through it, I think you
said."

"Did I? I think not, considering I didn't know one drift from the
other. However, it's just possible I may have; but one drift is very
like another, especially in photography."

"It's the Bobi."

Somehow Verna's instincts were instantly on the alert. There was more
than a subtle something in Stride's manner and remarks, a sort of
"making a dead set" smack about them. She became cold and hostile
towards him at once. He saw this, and realised he had make a mistake.
So he left the subject of the head, and drew attention to the other
prints.