his tomfoolery too far, so I went to see Sir Walter, but he told
me to keep my mind easy.

'Our friend's motto is "Thorough",' he said, 'and he knows very
well what he is about. We have officially requested him to leave,
and he sails from Newcastle on Monday. He will be shadowed
wherever he goes, and we hope to provoke more outbreaks. He is a
very capable fellow.'

The last I saw of him was on the Saturday afternoon when I met
him in St james's Street and offered to shake hands. He told me
that my uniform was a pollution, and made a speech to a small
crowd about it. They hissed him and he had to get into a taxi. As
he departed there was just the suspicion of a wink in his left eye.
On Monday I read that he had gone off, and the papers observed
that our shores were well quit of him.

I sailed on December 3rd from Liverpool in a boat bound for the
Argentine that was due to put in at Lisbon. I had of course to get a
Foreign Office passport to leave England, but after that my connection
with the Government ceased. All the details of my journey
were carefully thought out. Lisbon would be a good jumping-off
place, for it was the rendezvous of scallywags from most parts of
Africa. My kit was an old Gladstone bag, and my clothes were the
relics of my South African wardrobe. I let my beard grow for some
days before I sailed, and, since it grows fast, I went on board with
the kind of hairy chin you will see on the young Boer. My name
was now Brandt, Cornelis Brandt - at least so my passport said,
and passports never lie.