All the same it seemed almost incongruous at such a time to be upset because a suggestion had been made about me; but it was constantly in my mind. Images suggested by Mrs. Prost’s conclusions kept recurring and there was always the mystery as to who could have put my handkerchief in such a place. It could only be that someone wanted to prove something against me.

Lilias, with whom I talked again of the matter, said I was making too much of it.

“You’ve suffered a great shock,” she said, “and you must be on guard against allowing yourself to imagine some evil fate is working against you.”

I knew that she was right when she said I was haunted by the past. I had hoped to escape it by leaving England. I knew as well as she did that there was no hope of a peaceful life for me until I had cut myself away from what had happened.

“Innocence should be your shield against all that,” said Lilias. “You know you were innocent. I knew I was innocent when I was accused. It helps. I’ve told John about the affair of the necklace and he agrees with me.”

She was right, of course. I had to be reasonable. The handkerchief must have been caught up in something and got carried into that room. It seemed implausible, but strange things did happen.

After a few days I began to feel a little better about the affair, but I had no desire to go back to Riebeeck House.

Myra came to the schoolhouse. She was looking much better now. Her cure had been quite miraculous and she had lost most of her nervousness.

She looked at me in some consternation.

“You haven’t been to see me.”

“Well … there’s been a lot to do here.”

She looked surprised, but did not ask what.

“We missed you,” she went on. “Mrs. Prost was quite upset.”

And so she should be, I thought. It is because of her that I’ve stayed away. All the same I was glad she had mentioned what was in her mind. I would rather know than have her continue with her speculations.

“She thought you might have been offended about something. I told her that was nonsense. But I thought I’d come to see you. Is everything all right?”

“Hardly all right, Myra. Things are getting worse. We shall all be starving soon.”

“Yes, I know. And someone was killed last night … near the church.”

“It’s unsafe to be in the streets.”

“It’s unsafe to be anywhere, so one might as well be in one place as another. I wonder when it is all going to end. Oh, Diana, I wonder about Roger. Where can he be?”

“He didn’t say, did he? Well, he couldn’t, of course. It was some mission from the garrison … to let people know what was happening in the town, I suppose, and get help if possible.”

“I pray he is all right. It’s awful that he’s not here now that I am so much better. He couldn’t understand what was wrong with me. He used to worry so much. And to think it was that wretched insect. Who would have thought little things like that could do so much harm? We’ve had rather an upset at Riebeeck. It’s poor old Njuba.”

“It was so terrible about the boy.”

“If it had been an accident it would have been different … though that would have been terrible enough. But to think he was strangled and someone had deliberately killed him …”

“Who could have done that, Myra, to a helpless little boy?”

“It’s a mystery. If it wasn’t for the siege there would have been an enquiry, I suppose. But now nobody thinks of anything but how long we can hold out.”

“That is understandable.”

“What I was going to tell you was that poor Njuba is acting strangely. He just wanders about, muttering to himself. He got into the house and was found going in and out of the rooms… as though he were looking for something. Mrs. Prost found him turning out cupboards. She asked what he wanted and he wouldn’t tell her. She didn’t know what to do. She sent for Luban to take him home. It’s very sad. Poor Luban. She’s lost her son and her husband seems as though he is losing his wits. What terrible things happen, Diana!”

“Yes,” I replied. “That’s true.”

“Please come and see me.”

“It is just as easy for you to come here.”

“Yes, but there is more room at the house and the gardens are nice.”

“All right. I’ll come.”

Lilias was pleased when I told her. “It’s the best thing. Mrs. Prost would think she had been right if you stayed away. You can convince her how wrong she was, I’m sure.”

“But / am not sure about that,” I replied. “I think she has made up her mind that her beloved master is irresistible, and she exonerates him absolutely; and she doesn’t take too stern a view of me because he is the man in the case.”

FEBRUARY HAD COME. We were living on small rations. When we awoke in the mornings we wondered what the day would bring. This state of affairs could not continue. Something had to happen soon.

There were constant outbreaks of gunfire; it had ceased to be sporadic and was normal now. One night a party of three men arrived in the town, having broken through the forces surrounding us; one of them was wounded.

There was jubilation in the streets next morning. People stood about talking with an animation which I had not seen for some time. We should not give up hope yet. The British were advancing. They had suffered a major defeat at Spion Kop, but after that things had changed. Ammunition had been pouring into the country. Two names were mentioned with awe: Major General Horatio Herbert Kitchener and Field Marshal Sir Frederick Sleigh Roberts. They were marching on and were coming to our relief.

New hope was springing up everywhere. People were saying that it was not possible for the great British Empire to be beaten by a handful of farmers. The British now had the measure of the land. “We’ve got the men, we’ve got the ships and we’ve got the money, too.”

Hope was a great reviver. People were smiling in the streets. “It won’t be long. Kitchener and Roberts are on the way.”

I went to Riebeeck House. Lilias was right. To stay away could imply that Mrs. Prost’s suspicions were correct. All the same I did not like staying in the house. I often suggested to Myra that we sit in the gardens. In any case, they were beautiful. The scent of the flowers, the murmur of insects suggested peace … even in these troubled times. Sometimes we walked.

We went along past the waterfall where poor Umgala’s body had been found and on as far as the rondavels.

I do not know what impulse led me to that particular rondavel. It was a little apart from the others and it looked as though it were falling into decay. The grass grew tall about it. There was a hole in the thatched roof.

“That would have been repaired, I daresay, if all this hadn’t happened,” said Myra.

“Who is supposed to keep them in order?”

“The natives. They are their homes. They look after them themselves.”

Something urged me to go forward and as I did so a small boy darted up to us. He smiled, his teeth dazzlingly white against his dark skin.

“Whose home is this?” Myra asked him.

His smile disappeared. He looked furtively over his shoulder. “No one live here, Missee. Devil man there.”

“Devil man?” I said.

“Bad place. Missee no go.”

“It’s only one of the rondavels that has been left to decay. That’s what’s wrong with it.”

“Old man live there. He die. No one want place. It bad. Umgala … he not know. He go … he like. He always there. He die …”

The mention of Umgala startled me. I wanted to go into the rondavel.

“Let’s just take a look,” I said, and started forward.

“No … no, Missee.” The boy was really alarmed. “Bad place. Big snakes in grass. Devil’s snakes. They wait … to catch …”

“We’ll be careful,” I said, and I went forward.

Myra said: “Perhaps we’d better not …”

But I was already making my cautious way through the long grass.

I reached the door, lifted the latch and went in. There was a buzzing noise and a huge insect, which looked like an enormous dragonfly, cruised across the rondavel and settled on a small bench.

“Let’s go!” said Myra. “We don’t want to get stung.”

But something held me there. Under the bench was a rough drawer and below it on the earth floor I noticed wood shavings and splinters of wood.

I went across the room. The insect was still perched on the bench. Keeping my eyes on it I opened the drawer. I had to shake it to get it open and when I did so I saw several carved figures, among them that one which I had seen lying at the bottom of the staircase in the Model House.

I turned to Myra who was standing in the doorway.

“Come away!” she cried. “I don’t like this.”

I said slowly: “That boy … he said Umgala came here … no one else did. He was often here … before he was murdered.”

Myra said: “I’m going. It’s horrible here …”

I followed her. She was already pushing her way through the long grass.

“Myra,” I said. “Myra, it was Umgala …”

At that moment we saw the snake. It had risen and was close to us. It hissed ominously. It had been lurking in the grass.

Evading it, I ran after Myra. I think we were lucky in seeing it in time.

We had reached the clearing. We stopped, panting. I turned to look behind us. There was no sign of the snake.

Myra was trembling. I put an arm round her. “It’s all right now,” I said. “It’s back there in the grass.” And all I could think of was: Umgala made the figures … and Umgala was murdered. This was a momentous discovery. I was bemused, bewildered. Ideas were jostling each other in my mind. I felt I must not mention my discovery to Myra. I wanted to talk it over with Lilias first.