use to
ourselves. See that we are not interrupted."

"_Ja_, Mishter Kershaw. Dot shall be done."

Having thus disposed of his Hebraic landlord, Kenneth led the way inside
and lit up. Then he got out the materials for a rough-and-ready cold
supper, and some excellent "square-face," with the apology that it was
only "war-fare," the point of which joke was lost on the Dutchman. The
latter, however, after a couple of glasses began to grow more genial and
less suspicious.

"_Maagtig_!" he burst forth, eyeing his host. "I never thought one
world could contain two people so exactly alike. Here in the light, the
likeness is even more wonderful."

"Take a good look at me, De la Rey, and make sure. Now, is there
nothing, no mark or anything, that distinguishes me from my--er--
relative?"

"_Ja_, now I do see something. You have a scar, a very slight one--
still I see it--just in front of the parting of your hair. Colvin has
not got that. But the colouring, the voice--everything. _Maagtig_! it
is wonderful."

Over the meal they began to arrange their plans. Then they lit their
pipes and talked on, far into the night, arranging details.

"You know the young lady, Adrian, and I don't," said Kenneth at last.
"If she believes your statement, we needn't go any further. If she
doesn't, or doesn't want to, we must give her the most convincing
evidence of all--ocular evidence. There will be no going behind that, I
fancy."

"_Ja_, that is a fine idea of yours, Kenneth"--under the influence of
`square-face' and a mutual plot these two had become quite fraternal.
"A really fine idea. Aletta will never doubt the evidence of her own
eye sight."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just then, however, Aletta had something to think about on her own
account, and a few days after the concocting of this delectable plot saw
her seated in the back garden of Piet Plessis' house, engaged in a
serious discussion with her _fiance_. For the latter had made up his
mind to proceed to the seat of war, and had just been announcing the
fact.

Those long weeks spent at Pretoria had been very happy, very sweet. But
the sheer restfulness of them had become a trifle enervating. News had
kept coming in: news of the stirring events along the border. The flame
had spread, and was still spreading. Kimberley was invested, so too was
Mafeking, and Vryburg had fallen. Ladysmith was cut off from the