Part 9 (1/2)

”Guess you're wrong, Danvers,” interrupted Laxdale. ”I know how the business is going to end; street fighting in Cape Town. Fritz won't stand, so it's an everlasting chase until he's got the sea at his back.”

”Any one seen MacGregor this morning?” enquired Wilmshurst.

”MacGregor? Didn't you find him?” asked Vipont, who had joined the group of tired-eyed subalterns. ”After the column left camp--about an hour and a half, I should say--he asked Sutton to let him try and overtake the battalion. Said he didn't want to swing the lead with a mere scratch on his s.h.i.+n-bone. So he mounted and rode off. That's the last I saw of him.”

”How long before the Huns attacked?” asked Danvers.

”Three hours,” replied Vipont. ”You don't suggest that a skilled scout blundered right on top of them?”

”Not at all,” his questioner hastened to a.s.sert. ”For one thing after he followed us he would be on a diverging route to that taken by Fritz & Co. What do you say, Wilmshurst?”

Dudley shook his head. He had no particular cause either to like or dislike the man, but he hesitated to give definite utterance to his suspicions. It was decidedly un-British to condemn a man before being sure of actual facts and to sow the seeds of distrust against an individual who was not present to defend himself. But somehow the chain of events--the horse's footprints on the kloof road, the warning shot when the hitherto unsuspecting Huns were approaching the ambush, the mark V. cartridge case--all pointed to treachery on the part of some one, while MacGregor's disappearance coincided with the other points that had occurred to the subaltern.

”He may be bushed,” he replied. ”It's just likely that he'll turn up again soon. Has his absence been reported? I'll mention it, if you like. I have to see the adjutant in a few minutes.”

Wilmshurst found the adjutant in his ”office,” which consisted of three walls of piled ammunition boxes, with a double covering of canvas. The furniture was composed of a desk (an upturned packing-case) and a couple of chairs (smaller dittos) the former being littered with official forms and papers, for even in the wilds of Africa the British Army cannot dispense with red-tape formalities.

”Mornin', Mr. Wilmshurst,” was the adjutant's greeting as he returned the subaltern's salute. ”Want to see you with reference to that report of yours, don't you know. Take a pew. You'll find that case pretty comfortable, and come in out of the sun. Look here: from your report I understand that a warning shot was fired, but not by any of ours. Is that so?”

Wilmshurst paused. The adjutant was quick to notice his hesitation.

”Come, come!” he continued sharply. ”Do you suspect any one? If so, out with it. We can't stand on sentiment in matters of this description, don't you know.”

”Are you aware, sir, that MacGregor left camp shortly after we left camp and has not returned?”

”Hasn't he, by Jove!” exclaimed the adjutant. ”Well, what about it?

Has that anything to do with the case in point?”

”I hope not, sir,” answered the subaltern, ”but--but----”

”Proceed,” urged his questioner calmly.

Wilmshurst, seeing no other course, boldly took his plunge, stating his views upon the connection between the scout's disappearance and the timely warning received by the retiring enemy, producing as evidence the rimmed cartridge case, which by reason of its shape and calibre could not be fired from a Mauser rifle.

”Dash it all!” exclaimed the adjutant explosively. ”What sort of reptile have we been harbouring? I'm afraid that what steps we take concerning him will be locking the stable door after the horse has gone.”

”We arc working simply in conjecture, sir,” observed the subaltern.

”He may be all right, after all.”

”Conjecture, confound it!” shouted the other. ”What d'you call this?”

holding up the cartridge case. ”If it isn't circ.u.mstantial evidence, what is?”

At that moment an orderly put in an appearance. ”Macgreg him horse am come back, sah,” he reported, saluting.

The adjutant, picking up a sheaf of papers and putting on his sun-helmet, hurried to the lines where the horses were picketed, Wilmshurst following and the orderly bringing up the rear.

Already news of MacGregor's disappearance had spread, although there was no thought of treachery in the minds of the other officers. They had come to the conclusion that the Rhodesian in an access of zeal had blundered right into the enemy column.