n the leaf of a pocket-book, again telling
the tale of the salting and naming Gilderman as the chief conspirator,
lay pinned to the dead man's shirt, and the wachtmeister, as he read
it, called out grimly to them to come and look at another piece of
their work.

Reluctantly they came closer to the awful thing that had once been
Junes, whilst the police sergeant, long since inured to such sights all
too frequent in the desert read aloud the note, and asked them if they
still denied the testimony of the two dead men. Gilderman in vain
endeavoured to brazen it out, and the wachtmeister, changing his
tactics, forced him and the others to look close at what had been a
face, and identify it as that of Junes.

The terrible plan succeeded, for at the gruesome sight, the little
bravado left in them gave way entirely. Gilderman, physically sick,
staggered away a yard or two and fell in a faint, and Jelder,
whimpering like a child, broke down utterly. "Gott in Himmel," he
cried, "what a death! I can't stand any more of this! Yes, it is true
we were all in it, but the plan was Gilderman's."

Again the wachtmeister made notes; and in their efforts to stand in as
well as possible, each now tried to further implicate the other, till
the sergeant closed his book and roughly bade them be silent, and keep
their precious tale for the Richter in Windhuk, who would try them.

As they rode into Luderitzbucht a week later, one of the first men that
Dick saw was Solly, who in the excitement of the past few weeks he had
almost forgotten the existence of. But as he saw the little Jew, who
had stood by him before and who had been instrumental in getting him
his job, he remembered that Solly would expect a full account of all
that had happened, and the question was should he tell him of the
stones he had found, or only of the salting?

However, he had neither time nor opportunity to say anything then, for
encountering the little cavalcade just as the wachtmeister led it up to
the police station, he opened his little twinkling eyes wide at the
sight of the four dejected and most obvious prisoners, gave Dick a wink
which expressed volumes, and made off in a bee line towards the
telegraph station. There he sent a most innocent wire to a small retail
tobacconist in Kimberley a wire that apparently conveyed nothing more
than a complaint as to the quality of certain cigars that Solly had
received. Strangely enough, however, within an hour or two of