Part 37 (2/2)

True to her word, Mrs. Malan determined to shelter them that night, but the house being too dangerous a hiding-place, they were stowed away in Mr. David Malan's waggon-house, closely packed in one small waggon, and there they still lay when the van Warmelos heard of their arrival.

From the bosom of her dress Miss Malan produced the dispatches and a number of private letters.

The dispatch to the President Hansie offered to send by the first opportunity, without telling her friends that it would go by the very next mail per White Envelope. This was a secret she naturally could not divulge to her most trusted fellow-workers, although she could guarantee that the work would be carried out, and they had enough confidence in her to leave the matter in her hands.

The letter from the Captain to the Committee was left at Harmony to be read and destroyed. Needless to say, Hansie, with her mania for collecting war-curios, made a full copy of both letter and dispatch in lemon-juice before regretfully consigning them to the flames. It was hard to destroy original doc.u.ments for which such risks had been run!

What was most disconcerting was to hear that the authorities, evidently aware that the men had come through in spite of having been fired upon, were searching for them in town. It was imperative that they should leave that day, or at least as soon as night fell, for the risk they ran was very great.

Hansie promised to think of some way of helping them to escape safely, and said she would see them in the afternoon.

The feeling of responsibility on her young shoulders was very great.

There was no one to turn to, no man to whom this dangerous mission could be entrusted, except one, her young friend, F.

She thought of him and wondered whether she could confide to him a scheme which had been slowly forming in her mind.

That afternoon she was on the point of leaving for Mrs. Malan's house, with a packet of letters and newspapers, when two lady callers arrived at Harmony br.i.m.m.i.n.g with the news that the town was in a great state of excitement. Armed soldiers were patrolling the streets, men were stopped to show their residential pa.s.ses, and every cab and carriage was held up for inspection.

The general opinion was that there were spies in town, for the lower part of the town and west of Market Street were cut off by a patrol, while a systematic search of the private houses was being carried on.

Hansie chafed at the delay, listening with impatience to their excited talk, and wondering what they would say if they knew that she was on the point of going to those spies with the parcel in her hands.

By a happy coincidence, when the callers had taken their departure, another visitor arrived--F., the very man she wished to see.

But he, too, was full of the excitement in town and did not notice the unusual anxiety in Hansie's manner.

”General Botha has come in 'to negotiate,'” he said. ”The town is alive with soldiers, but there must be something else brewing at the same time, for every house is being searched, and a cordon has been drawn round some parts of the town. It is impossible for any one to get through from one place to another beyond Market Street.”

Hansie's heart sank for a moment.

Then she said: ”I have to go to town at once, F.; will you come with me? I have a great deal to tell you and we can talk as we go along.

You remember you once said that I must come to you if ever I got into any trouble. Well, I am in serious trouble now--not for myself--but, tell me, have you your residential pa.s.s with you?”

He produced it.

She continued: ”Then we are safe for the present. Let us sit in the Park while I tell you in what way I want you to help me.”

They found a secluded spot under one of the trees in Burgher's Park, and there Hansie took him into her confidence, unfolding her plan to him.

”If, as you say, F., a cordon is being drawn around the houses that have already been searched, those three men may be cut off at any moment. They cannot wait where they are at present, no more can they show themselves on the streets without residential pa.s.ses. If you can help me to borrow three pa.s.ses for them, I myself will walk with them as far as the wire enclosure and bring the pa.s.ses back to you.”

F. whistled, called her ”plucky,” but thought the whole thing far too risky.

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