'Very good, Els,' he said charitably. 'There was only one little mistake you made.'

'Mistake? What was that?'

The Kommandant smiled. 'It wasn't a konstabel who took over from you at the gate, it was a sergeant.'

'Oh yes, so it was. I remember now. A sergeant.'

Chapter 13

The prison in Piemburg is situated on the edge of town. It is old and looks from the outside not altogether unattractive. An air of faded severity lingers about its stuccoed walls. Above the huge iron doorway are printed the words 'Piemburg Tronk and Gaol', and the door itself is painted a cheerful black. On either side the barred windows of the administrative block break the monotony of the walls whose heights are delicately topped with cast-iron cacti which give the whole building a faintly horticultural air. The visitor to Piemburg who passes the great rectangle of masonry might well imagine that he was in the neighbourhood of some enormous kitchen garden were it not for the frequent and persistent screams that float up over the ornamental ironwork and suggest that something more voracious than a Venus Flytrap has closed upon a victim.

Inside the impression is less deceptive. Opened by Sir Theophilus in 1897, the Viceroy had complimented the architect in his speech at the unveiling of the flogging post for 'creating in this building a sense of security it is hard to find in the world today', a remark which, coming as it did from a man in whom a sense of insecurity was so manifest, spoke for itself. Sir Theophilus' enthusiasm was not shared by most of the people who entered Piemburg Prison. Notorious throughout South Africa for the severity of its warden, Governor Schnapps, it had the reputation for being escape-proof and having the fewest recidivists.

If the prison was escape-proof, the Maximum Security Block was doubly so. Set near the execution shed which was appropriately nicknamed Top, the Security block huddling half underground was known as Bottom.

The Bishop could find no fault with the name. 'I can see it's the bottom,' he said to the warder who pushed him into his tiny cell. 'I don't have to be told.'

'I could tell you a few other things,' said the warder through the grille.

'I'm sure you could,' said the Bishop hastily. His experience with the hooded man in the car had taught him not to ask unnecessary questions.

'I have always kept this cell for murderers,', the warder continued. 'It's convenient for the door, you see.'

'I should have thought that was a disadvantage with prisoners who have such strong motives to escape,' the Bishop said, reconciling himself to the thought that he was a captive audience.

'Oh, no. They didn't escape. It made it easy to take them across to Top. We rushed them along the passage and up the steps and they were gone before they knew it.'

The Bishop was relieved to hear this. 'I am glad you put so much emphasis on the past,' he said. 'I gather there hasn't been a hanging for some time.'

'Not for twenty years. Not in Piemburg, that is. They hang them all in Pretoria these days. Taken all the fun out of life.'

The Bishop was just considering the dreariness of a life that found hangings fun when the warder went on, 'Mind you, it will be different in your case. You're a Hazelstone and you're privileged,' the warder said enviously.

For once in his life the Bishop was thankful to be a Hazelstone. 'Why's that?' he asked hopefully.

'You've got the right to be hanged in Piemburg. It's something to do with your grandfather. Don't know what, but I'll see if I can find out for you,' and he went down the passage and left the Bishop cursing himself for asking yet another silly question. As he paced his cell he heard the sound of vehicles outside and peering out through the tiny barred window saw that the Kommandant had arrived.

The Kommandant had taken the precaution of driving down from Jacaranda House in an armoured car and was busy explaining to Governor Schnapps that he was taking over his office.

'You can't do that,' the Governor protested.

'Can and will,' said the Kommandant. 'Got Emergency Powers. Now then if you'll be good enough to show me where your office is, I'll have my camp bed moved in and we can get down to business.'

And leaving the Governor to write a letter of complaint to Pretoria, the Kommandant installed himself in Schnapps' office and sent for Konstabel Els.

'Where's Luitenant Verkramp?' he asked. 'That's what I want to know.'

For once Konstabel Els was better informed. 'He's in hospital,' he said. 'Got himself wounded up at the gate.'

'That fellow shot him, did he? Deserves a medal.'

Els was surprised. What he had seen of Luitenant Verkramp's courage didn't seem to him to warrant a medal.

'Who? Verkramp?' he asked.

'No, of course not. The fellow who shot him.'

'He didn't get shot,' said Els. 'Threw himself into a ditch.'

'Typical,' said the Kommandant. 'Anyway, I want you to go and fetch him from the hospital. Tell him he's got to interrogate the prisoner. I want a full confession and quick.'

Konstabel Els hesitated. He was not anxious to renew his acquaintance with the Luitenant.

'He won't take orders from me,' he said. 'Besides he may have hurt himself seriously falling into that ditch.'

'I wish I had your optimism, Els,' said the Kommandant, 'but I doubt it. The swine's malingering.'

'Why not leave him where he is? I don't mind getting a confession out of the prisoner.'

The Kommandant shook his head. The case was too important to have Els botching it up with his dreadful methods.

'It's kind of you to offer,' he said, 'but I think we'll leave it to Luitenant Verkramp.'

'There's gratitude for you,' thought Els, as he went off to fetch Verkramp from the hospital.

He found the Luitenant lying on his stomach taking nourishment through a straw. Verkramp's back, it appeared, made it impossible to eat in any other position.

'Well?' he asked grumpily when Konstabel Els reported to him. 'What do you want?'

'Came to see how you were,' Els said tactfully.

'You can see how I am,' Verkramp answered, regarding Els' dirty boots with disapproval. 'I have been seriously wounded.'

'I can see that,' Els said, grateful that the Luitenant couldn't study his face. He regretted having peered down into the moat now. 'Got you in the back, did he?'

'Came at me from behind,' said the Luitenant who didn't like the imputation that he had been trying to escape.

'Nasty. Very nasty. Well, you'll be glad to know we've got the bastard. The Kommandant wants you to start interrogating him straight away.'

Verkramp choked on his straw. 'He wants what?' he shouted at the Konstabel's boots.

'He says you're to come straight away.'

'Well, he can say what he likes, but I'm not budging. Besides,' he added, 'the doctors wouldn't let me.'

'Would you like to tell him yourself?' asked Els. 'He won't believe me.'

In the end a telephone was brought to the Luitenant's bedside and the Kommandant had a word with him. It was rather more than one word and in the end Luitenant Verkramp was persuaded to report for duty. Short of facing a court martial for cowardice, desertion in the face of the enemy, and incompetence in that he allowed twenty-one policemen under his command to be slaughtered, there didn't seem much he could do to remain in hospital. Verkramp was in a very ugly mood and not altogether clearheaded when he arrived at the prison to question Jonathan Hazelstone.

It was hardly less ugly than the mood Kommandant van Heerden was in. After a momentary spasm of optimism that the case was as good as closed now that the prisoner was in Bottom, the Kommandant had succumbed to a state of extreme pessimism on learning that Miss Hazelstone was still at large. Since leaving the Park she had not been seen. The police Land Rover had been found abandoned but of Miss Hazelstone there was no trace, and while the Kommandant felt pretty sure she wouldn't break into the prison to renew their acquaintance, he had no doubt that what she might do outside was just as likely to jeopardize his future.