They were still trying to solve the problem when they drove up through a delightful avenue of trees, and stopped in front of a large and stately mansion. It was the Transvaal home of Clarence Raybold.
Everywhere they looked, the evidence of wealth and lavish outlay stared them in the face--in the grounds with its trees and lawns, which had been forced and kept green by expensive irrigation; in the vast columns and carved work of the masonry. Mr Raybold had expended a fortune on the rearing of this suburban palace as a testimony to his wealth. Even Clarence was impressed as he led the way up the steps and knocked at the heavy, polished front door.
Mr Raybold, although surrounded by so much luxury, was a bluff and hearty man, who put on no airs of dignity. He welcomed his son with affectionate warmth and his two friends with genuine hospitality. Clarence had written about their intentions from Cape Town, so that they were expected, and found their rooms all prepared.
While they were having something to eat to keep them going till dinner, a man was sent with a trap to bring their luggage.
Mr Raybold heard the account of their arms being taken by the Boers with a grim smile; but he made no other comment than to say he would do his best to have them returned, or kept safely for them until they left the Transvaal.
It was only when they were leaving the dining-room to have a bath and change their clothes, that he closed the door carefully, and said in an impressive undertone--
"Be very careful how you express any opinion about the Government, outside or inside. Also trust no one, however friendly they may appear. Remember always that we are as much under surveillance here as people are in Russia. Paul Kruger has his spies and secret detectives everywhere."
"But this is most horrible," cried the boys together. Mr Raybold merely shrugged his shoulders and smiled the same grim smile.
"Careless words are sometimes very costly in Johannesburg, and a silent tongue is worth a great deal more than its weight in gold here. We don't talk much in society here, and never about politics."
"But your wrongs?" asked Ned, "We leave that to the newspapers to air, and to those who have no money to be confiscated in fines."