herself. It was Ferreira--your mother's name, Benita, though a common
one enough in South Africa.

"We asked him to allow us to enter the topmost stronghold, which stands
upon the hill, but he refused, saying that the curse still lay upon
him and his, and that no man should enter until the lady Ferreira came
again. For the rest the place was free to us; we might dig as we would.
So we did dig, and found some gold buried with the ancients, beads and
bangles and wire--about £100 worth. Also--that was on the day when the
young Seymours came upon us, and accounts for Meyer's excitement, for
he thought that we were on the track of the treasure--we found a single
gold coin, no doubt one that had been dropped by the Portuguese. Here it
is." And he threw a thin piece of gold on the table before her. "I have
shown it to a man learned in those matters, and he says that it is a
ducat struck by one of the doges of Venice.

"Well, we never found any more. The end of it was that the Makalanga
caught us trying to get in to the secret stronghold by stealth, and gave
us the choice of clearing out or being killed. So we cleared out, for
treasure is not of much use to dead men."

Mr. Clifford ceased speaking, and filled his pipe, while Meyer helped
himself to squareface in an absent manner. As for Benita, she stared at
the quaint old coin, which had a hole in it, wondering with what scenes
of terror and of bloodshed it had been connected.

"Keep it," said her father. "It will go on that bracelet of yours."

"Thank you, dear," she answered. "Though I don't know why I should take
all the Portuguese treasure since we shall never see any more of it."