He stood aside and held the door while Mrs. Jakes entered, and closed it behind her. Stalking imperturbably, he placed a chair for her and drew one out for himself, depositing his badged "smasher" hat on the ground beside it. Seated, he drew from his smoothly immaculate tunic a large note-book and snapped its elastic band open and laid it on his knee. Ford, from his place on the couch, watched these preparations with gentle interest.
Van Zyl looked up at Margaret with a pencil in his fingers. His pale, uncommunicative eyes fastened on her with an unemotional assurance in their gaze.
"First," he said; "where were you, Miss Harding, on the afternoon of the --th?"
He mentioned a date to which Margaret's mind ran back nimbly. It was the day on which Boy Bailey had made terms from the top of the dam wall, the day on which the Kafir had kissed her hand, nearly two weeks before.
She had herself sufficiently in hand, and returned his gaze with a faint smiling tranquillity that told him nothing.
"I have no information to give you, Mr. Van Zyl," she replied evenly. "It is quite useless to ask me any questions; I shan't answer them."
He was not disturbed. "Sorry," he said, "but I 'm afraid you must. I hope you 'll remember that I have my duty to do, Miss Harding."
That was Ford, thoughtfully, from the couch. Van Zyl looked in his direction sharply with a brief frown, but let it pass.
"It's no use, Mr. Van Zyl," said Margaret. "I simply am not going to answer any questions, and your duty has nothing to do with me. So if there is nothing else that you wish to say to me, your business is finished."
"No," he said; "it isn't finished yet, Miss Harding. You refuse to say where you were on that afternoon?"
Margaret smiled slowly and he made a quick note in his book.
"I ought to say, perhaps," he went on, looking up when he had finished writing, "that the information I am asking for relates to a--a person, who is wanted by the police on a charge of sedition and incitement to commit a breach of the peace. You were seen on the afternoon in question in the company of that--person, Miss Harding; and I believe--I _believe_ you can help us to lay hands on him."
"Is it Samson?" inquired Ford, raising his head. "I 've always had my suspicions of Samson."