liar
extremely softly; and then by way of a change he began what is
technically known as "double-tonguing."

This was too much for Oliver West. He had stood rubbing first one rifle
and then the other with a slightly-oiled rag to get rid of specks of
rust or dust, every now and then stealing a glance at the absurdly
screwed-up face, feeling the while that a good hearty laugh would do him
good, but determined to maintain his composure so as not to hurt the
performer's feelings. But the double-tonguing was too much.

_Tootle-too, tootle-too, tootle, tootle-too_ went the performer, running
up the gamut till he reached the octave and was about to run down again,
but he stopped short, lowered his instrument, and turned from a warm
pink to a deep purply crimson, for West suddenly burst out into a
half-hysterical roar of laughter, one which he vainly strove to check.

"I--I--I--I beg your pardon," he cried at last.

"Thank you," snorted out Anson; "but I don't see anything to laugh at."

"I couldn't help it, Anson. You did look so--so comic. Such a face!"

"Did I?" cried the musician angrily. "Such a face, indeed! You should
see your own. Your grin looked idiotic: half-way between a bushman and
a baboon."

"Thank you," said West, calming down at once, and feeling nettled in
turn.

"Oh, you're quite welcome," said Anson sarcastically. "I have heard
about casting pearls before swine; but I never saw the truth of the
saying before."

"Thank you again," said West, frowning. "But if I were you I would not
waste any more of my pearls in such company."

"I do not mean to," said Anson, with his eyes glittering.

He got no farther, though he was prepared to say something crushing, for
the door was flung open and their fellow-clerk came back quickly.

"Hullo!" he cried, "flute and hautboy. I say, Sim, put that thing away
and don't bring it here, or I shall have an accident with it some day.
You ought to have stopped him, Noll. But come out, both of you.
There's some fun in the compound. They're going to thoroughly search
half-a-dozen Kaffirs, and I thought you'd like to see."

"Been stealing diamonds?" cried Anson excitedly.

"Suspected," replied Ingleborough.

"I'll come too," said Anson, and he began to rapidly unscrew his flute,
but so hurriedly that in place of separating the top joint from the next
he pulled it open at the tuning-slide, changed colour, and swung himself
round so as to turn his back to h