In a few words he told us, in fairly good English, how it had been posted up in the laager, "We leave for Mafeking to-night: we will breakfast at Dixon's Hotel to-morrow morning"; how he had sent back to instruct Reuter's agent to cable the news that Mafeking had been taken as soon as the fort was in their hands; how he had left his camp with 400 volunteers, and how, when he had counted them by the light of the blazing stadt, only 240 remained; moreover, that the 500 additional men who were to push in when the fort was taken absolutely failed him.[34] He was also betrayed in that the arranged forward movement all round the town, which was to have taken place simultaneously with his attack, was never made.

The burghers instead contented themselves by merely firing senseless volleys from their trenches, which constituted all the assistance he actually received.

This, and much more, he told us with bitter emphasis, while the French officer conversed unconcernedly in the intervals of his discourse about the African climate, the weather, and the Paris Exhibition; finally observing with heart-felt emphasis that he wished himself back once more in "La Belle France," which he had only left two short months ago.

The Dutchman, not understanding what he was saying, kept on the thread of his story, interrupting him without any compunction.

It was one of the most curious meals at which I have ever assisted.