row here, or clearing one there and so forth--
pausing every now and then for a smoke and a desultory chat.

"Hey, September! Bring the bag here," he called out in Dutch, as the
postboy was about to pass.

The boy swung himself from his pony, and handed over the leathern bag to
his master.

"Great Scott, here's a nuisance!" exclaimed the latter, fumbling in his
pockets. "I believe I haven't got the key. It's up at the house.
We'll have to send September for it--or go up ourselves and open the bag
there."

The last thing that Blachland desired was either of these courses. If
they sent up for the key, Lyn would be sure to come down with it
herself. If they went themselves, the bag would be opened in her
presence, and this, for good reasons of his own, he did not wish. In
fact he had deftly manoeuvred Bayfield down here with the object of
intercepting it.

"Ah, here it is!" cried the latter, disentangling a bunch of keys from
the recesses of a pocket. "Got into the lining."

In a trice the bag was unlocked and its contents extracted by the simple
process of turning them out on to the ground.

"Here you are, Blachland," handing him two. "Miss Bayfield, Miss
Bayfield," he read out, "that's all for Lyn. _Illustrated London
News_--George Bayfield--George Bayfield. Here's another, that's for
you--no, it isn't, it's me. Looked like Blachland at first. That's
all. Here you are, September. Take that on to Miss Lyn," replacing the
latter's correspondence in the bag.

"_Ja, Baas_." And the Kaffir jogged off.

Blachland stood there, outwardly calm, but, in reality, stirred through
and through. The blow had fallen. The writing on the enclosure which
his friend had so nearly handed to him, how well he knew it; could it
be, he thought, in a flash of sardonic irony--there had once been a time
when it was the most welcome sight his glance could rest upon? The blow
had fallen. Hermia had been as good as her word, but even then there
were mitigating circumstances, for a ghastly idea had occurred to him
that she might, in the plenitude of her malice, have written direct to
Lyn, whereas the addresses on the girl's correspondence were in
different hands, and which in fact he had seen before. Indeed had it
been otherwise he intended to warn Bayfield on no account to pass on the
letter until that worthy had satisfied himself as to its contents.

"Just as I thought. I've got to clear, and rather sharp too. In fac