Gone missing A few days later, and many hundreds of miles to the east of Graaff Reinet, Sir Henry

Bulwer, the Lieutenant Governor of Natal, was enjoying breakfast in his residence in Pietermaritzburg. He picked up a bone china cup full of milky tea, and gazed through the open French windows at three native gardeners who were lazily wielding watering cans, sprinkling water on the rectangular expanse of lawn outside. The fragrance of the wet grass, which he could smell as he sipped his beverage, reminded him of the grassy quadrangle at Trinity, his old college in Cambridge. A tall man, dressed in a grey tailcoat and carrying a folder, entered the room, and put an end to his reverie, by saying: Good morning to you, sir. And permit me to wish you the same, Grant, Bulwer replied, placing his cup on the saucer, before adding: Ill relieve you of your load. Is there anything of note in it? Just the usual reports from up country, sir, Grant replied. Are those Zulu chaps still bothering the farmers? I am afraid so, sir. One day, well need to give them a jolly good thrashing, Bulwer said. Quite right, sir: that will teach em. And, there is one other matter to which I need direct your attention. Yes, Grant? Do you remember that request we received from Bloemfontein to keep on the cave for an escaped prisoner? Have they caught the bounder? Oh no, Sir Henry, but they have sent a description of him, and these Grant said, opening the file and placing two sepia photographs in front of his superior. Is this the jailbird? said Bulwer, after looking at the images. Youd have thought that they would have had his hair trimmed before taking these pictures. He shouldnt be hard to spot if he pitches up on the quay at Durban. That is, if he hasnt tidied himself up beforehand. He returned the pictures to Grant, saying: Be a good fellow, and arrange for these to be despatched to the police there. And then send a letter to the chaps in Bloemfontein telling them that well keep our eyes open. Ill sign it later. Grant bowed, and left the room. Then, Bulwer picked up his teacup, took a sip, and muttered: Botheration, its stone cold. And, he thought, the grass outside is not nearly as green as that at Trinity. Later that day, a few hundred miles west of Bulwers residence,

Schnehage was sitting in his office in Rouxville when one of his assistants rushed in, and said: There are two men who insist on seeing you immediately. Did you take their names? Schnehage asked. One is Mr Terblanche, and the other well his name sounded like Venter. They say that theyre from Bloemfontein. Schnehages heart sank. He knew a Terblanche who worked in the Justice Ministry. Ask them in, he said unenthusiastically. The first man to enter was tall, the second short. Both were dressed in black suits, and looked like pastors. Their white shirts were unbuttoned at the neck. Weve met before, said the shorter man, Terblanche. This is my colleague Venter. I imagine that you know why were here. Schnehage nodded. The Minister is not at all happy, Terblanche announced. Schnehage felt his stomach heaving. He needs some information, Venter informed him, opening his briefcase. Venter took out a notebook, a pen and an inkwell. Im ready, he announced. Lets begin with the constable, said Terblanche, moving his chair so that he was sitting directly opposite Schnehage. Constable Rttcher has been reprimanded for abandoning the prison whilst he was supposed to be guarding it, and also for being inebriated whilst on duty, Schnehage informed Terblanche. Did you say reprimanded? asked the latter, giving the former a penetrating look. I did, Schnehage replied. Was he reprimanded rather than punished for this dereliction of duty? Terblanche asked tersely. In Bloemfontein, he continued without waiting for a reply, he would have been given his marching orders, would have been sacked. You understand what Im saying? His pay was docked for two weeks, Schnehage volunteered in a quiet voice, his stomach now becoming quite painful. Do you call that a punishment? Venter asked, looking up from his notebook. Hes a good policeman, Schnehage explained, feeling the pain in his stomach edging towards his chest. And our force is so small here in Rouxville that we cannot just dispose of men at the click of a finger. Well see what the Minister thinks about that, Terblanche snorted. Now, what did you do about the man who smashed the constables face at the brawl in the hotel? He means Van Der Walt, Venter interjected. We arrested him. Locked him up? asked Terblanche.

Yes, hes given us a bond to keep the peace, Schnehage said, now becoming quite queasy. Ag, Schnehage, youre too soft, Terblanche admonished him, before adding: No wonder, this place is in a mess. By now, Schnehage was feeling quite unwell. He watched Venter writing, and turned to Terblanche on hearing him say: Lets talk about Kleinbirdringers escape. Its very puzzling, Schnehage said, almost overcome by a wave of nausea. Whys that? Terblanche asked. When I went to the jail that morning, I found it locked, as I had left it the evening before. I had the keys with me all night, under my pillow. I unlocked the jail and found Constable Plaatje in a very agitated state. Hed woken up that night, found the prisoners cell empty, and also that hed been left alone locked in the jail. So how could the prisoner escape if you had the keys? And how did he lock the prison behind him? Venter inquired, looking at the magistrate suspiciously. In the brief time that the prisoner was left on his own, he couldnt possibly have had the keys copied What keys? Terblanche asked abruptly. The keys that Rttcher left behind when Schnehage began hesitantly. Go on, Terblanche interrupted, noticing that the magistrates face had paled. When the constable left for the Ander son, Schnehage stammered. Where Rttcher met Van Der Walt, is it? Venter enquired. Ja, Schnehage confirmed. And he left the keys with the prisoner, is it? Venter asked excitedly. Ive spoken with Van Straaten, the towns only locksmith. He said that he had not been asked to .... I cant believe what I am hearing, Schnehage, interrupted Terblanche. But, he locked himself in I recovered the keys from him later, Schnehage said, gasping for breath. Curious, isnt it? Venter said, dipping his quill into the inkpot, and then allowing it to drip on the table. Were there any spare sets of keys to the jail? Terblanche asked. Yes, I did see some inside th Schnehage began, but was unable to continue because he suddenly fell forwards, his head hitting the desk noisily. Terblanche rushed towards Schnehages immobile body, shouting: Get a doctor. Venter, do something