Chapter 2

The door porter bows low. The valet jumps off the box and lowers the step so that the two gentlemen can climb in.

"Your visit to us is not at the quietest time, Mr. Atterbury," remarks the Chief Justice. His sharp features are briefly lit by the pale rays of a lamp along the Parade.

"It seems so to me, Sir Jeffrey," Atterbury replies. "It is unfortunate," he adds. "I might have decided to settle here. But," he continues quickly, as if he does not want to talk about his personal affairs with the other, "the problems you are dealing with are from the civilian community."

"Yes," Sir Jeffrey sighs. "Their dissatisfaction is aimed at the Governor's power."

"But when have they had better privileges than now?"

"It is not so," says the Chief Justice. "The people are not happy with what they have. They are now complaining about representation in the government of the Colony. It is not practical.

The population is too spread out, the means of transportation are too poor. There are also too few educated men in the farming community. You will see that it will cause chaos to give them a share in the government. Meetings will have to be arranged months in advance. Important decisions can be delayed for weeks before all the representatives are gathered. And even then, it will be impossible to make some of the stubborn citizens agree."

"But what about local government? Even if they are not given representation in the central government, there are surely local matters they can solve themselves."

"An attempt in that direction has been made, Mr. Atterbury," the Chief Justice assures him. "However, it has failed. The landdrosts and heemraden have been removed and replaced by resident magistrates, who are appointed by His Excellency. It is now possible to decide and act quickly, for the resident magistrates are personally responsible to His Excellency."

"And the citizens feel that certain rights have been taken away from them?"

"Yes. The feeling has been made worse by the removal of the Burgher Senate here in the Cape."

"Well," remarks Atterbury calmly, "then I can understand why they are unhappy."

"Do you mean that you find reason for it?" asks the Chief Justice, surprised.

"Not at all. I am just saying that I understand how they feel."

"Do you mean that you can imagine yourself in their situation?"

"Is it so difficult?" Atterbury wants to know. "According to you, Sir Jeffrey, they are rather uneducated." He looks out the window. He breathes in the fresh scent of the hundreds of flowers and bushes and trees in the Company's Garden. "And now," he continues, "do the citizens resist because of the few bags of grain that I have already heard so much about?"

"Yes." Sir Jeffrey suddenly becomes agitated again. "The newspapers incite the citizens. That is why they become so cocky, and that is why it is necessary for the Swartland farmer to be punished severely."

"What do you intend, sir Jeffrey?" The sarcasm is so subtle that the Chief Justice does not notice it. He also does not see Atterbury's slight smirk in the darkness. He is not aware that the other is well aware of how the High Court is being used for the political goals of the Governor.

"At least a few years of imprisonment," sir Jeffrey answers.

"A bit too much for the crime."

"It is necessary, Mr. Atterbury. Everyone knows that His Excellency's policy will be decided by my ruling. We must be strict. Once the citizens see that we are uncertain, that the Governor hesitates, they will simply come forward with impossible demands. The resistance must be stopped once and for all."

"But will the citizens be happy with the ruling, sir Jeffrey?"

"Perhaps not," the Chief Justice begins sharply. But then he sighs and continues with a sad gesture. "I have already received a threatening letter from, from one of them. That was why I visited His Excellency."

"How do they threaten you?"

"My life if I do not acquit Francois Venter."

"And what does His Excellency say?"

"He will have the court guarded. I will have a personal bodyguard until the worst dissatisfaction has calmed down."

"But then you are safe, sir Jeffrey," Atterbury suggests.

Sir Jeffrey does not respond. The carriage stops in front of the wide porch of his comfortable home behind the Gardens. The Chief Justice invites his guest inside, and in silence, they reach the study.

"The Cape is full of farmers who have come from far and wide to attend the case," he says seriously as he walks to a cabinet in the corner. He does not ring for a servant, and it is clear to Atterbury that the judge does not want their conversation to be interrupted. "They may rebel," sir Jeffrey continues. "They may resist violently. Blood may be shed and..."

"Not if Francois Venter is acquitted."

It is a deep, gentle voice, slightly hoarse but conversational. It comes from across the room where heavy curtains hang next to the tall window.

The study is lit by a single lamp on the ceiling. It had been lit when they entered, and the soft glow it casts over the expensive furniture, thick carpets, and colorful wallpaper creates a pleasant light in the large room.

The black figure next to the curtain is barely visible now. Atterbury realizes that they would not have even noticed the man if he had not spoken, but the movement of the curtain shows that he had been hiding behind it when they entered. And then he sees the reflection of light on steel and can see that the stranger has a rapier in his right hand.

Now the intruder's clothing becomes visible to them. A tight-fitting, black velvet jacket covers his broad shoulders, and the long sleeves bulge over his muscles. Black trousers follow the lines of his narrow hips and strong legs, and a black mask stretches over his eyes and nose.

Quietly, the masked figure steps away from the wall. As if he belongs here, he leans slightly with his left hip against the desk. Only the steel of the rapier and the gleam of the eyes behind the mask are points of light on the dark figure.

After a moment of silence, Sir Jeffrey turns around, but it is as if his limbs are slow to move. He gives up the idea of ringing the bell and calling his servants. It is clear that the man before him is the writer of the threatening letters. Both the Masked Robber and Atterbury remain still. It is almost as if they are watching the situation with interest.

"You must excuse me," says the Masked Robber calmly, "if I startled you. Unfortunately, I could not help overhearing your conversation. I simply felt that I wanted to help Sir Jeffrey with a word of advice."

"Who are you?" The Chief Judge's lips suddenly become dry. "What are you doing here?"

"They call me the Masked Robber, Sir Jeffrey." The figure over six feet tall shrugs. "But you know that. You also know why I am here."

"That may be true for Sir Jeffrey." Dennis Atterbury stands equally relaxed. His direct gaze seeks the eyes of the others behind the mask. He speaks calmly and quietly, as usual, and Sir Jeffrey feels a sense of admiration for the young man's courage. His ideas were right. Atterbury is not easily frightened. "Sir Jeffrey may know you, but I have not met you yet."

"It is not necessary," comes the calm response. "I am only concerned with the Chief Judge."

Atterbury shrugs his shoulders. With a light gesture of his hands, he wants to show that it is enough for now. They should just talk.

But when the gesture quickly turns into an attempt to pull a gun from under his jacket, his entire body suddenly stiffens. The Masked Robber has seen the movement, and as soon as Atterbury's fingers touch the pistol grip, he stares into the barrel of a weapon aimed directly at him. With a crooked smile, he lowers his arm. He thinks it is because the other's black mask makes it difficult for him to see the man's movements, as he did not even see the other's hands move before the gun was drawn from the waistband and aimed at him.

"It would be better if you take a seat, my friend," says the Masked Robber in a friendly way. "Let your arms rest on the chair's armrests."

Atterbury does as he is told. He looks apologetically at the Chief Judge, but his whole attitude shows that the matter does not bother him much.

Sir Jeffrey is amazed by the young man's lack of fear. He himself feels uneasy.

"You received my letter, Sir Jeffrey?" the Masked Robber asks kindly.

The Judge nods. He does not try to reply.

"And immediately you paid a visit to His Excellency," the black-clad figure continues. "It seems you were successful. Protected by the army." He returns the gun to his waistband. He plays with the sharp rapier in his hand. "I expected something like this. That is why I am here. I thought you might ignore my request. Perhaps you thought the Masked Robber is a legend, and his threats are empty. It is not true, Sir Jeffrey." The deep voice is warning, as if scolding a little boy. "The Masked Robber exists. I have come here so that you can see it. Tomorrow, you will release Francois Venter."

"But... but..." Those words are just a whisper in the Chief Justice's throat.

"His Excellency may be unhappy?" The lips beneath the mask smile. "He is just one, Sir Jeffrey. It is better to make him angry than to anger the entire community. Do your duty," he calmly commands, "and nothing will happen to...