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Tommy Atkins had his uproarious joke about it, but there was one man who breathed a sigh of relief when he heard of it. That was Barry Whalen. He had every reason to be glad that Krool was out of the way, and that Rudyard Byng would see him no more. Sitting beside the still unconscious Ian Stafford on the veld, Al'mah's reflections were much the same as those of Barry Whalen.
"Two hours before you go, and one hour before the vrouw, she go." Like some animal looking out of a jungle, so Krool's eyes glowed from beneath his heavy eyebrows, as he drawled out the words. "The Baas went you saw him?" "With my own eyes." "How long was he there?" "Ten minutes." "Mrs. Byng you saw her go in?" "And also come out." "And me you followed me you saw me, also?"
"Here the incident closed," as the newspapers say, but Rigby the tactless and the petty had shown that there was rumour concerning the relations of Byng and his wife, which Jasmine, at least, imagined did not exist.
In a word, admiral Byng bore such a considerable share in this war of Sicily, that the fate of the island depended wholly on his courage, vigilance, and conduct. When he waited on his majesty at Hanover, he met with a very gracious reception.
Was it only luck which had given Rudyard Byng those three millions? It could not be just that alone. She remembered her grandfather used to say that luck was a powerful ingredient in the successful career of every man, but that the man was on the spot to take the luck, knew when to take it, and how to use it.
Rudyard Byng did not visit Jasmine the next evening at six o'clock. His world was all in chaos, and he had not closed his eyes to sleep since he had left her. At ten o'clock at night, as he had arranged, "The Partners" and himself met at his chambers, around which had gathered a crowd of reporters and curious idlers; and from that time till the grey dawn he and they had sat in conference.
The thing was not a joke, and Englishman or nigger black, green, white, or gray the plot must be licked forthwith and in accordance with the rules. Crothers spat into his hands, while Joe Byng folded up his blouse and knelt on it.
It appears that on the ever-memorable 18th of June four companies of the Third Guards and of the Coldstreams, under the command of Colonels Maitland and Byng, held the important farmhouse of Hougoumont at the right of the British position. At a critical point of the action these troops found themselves short of powder.
Byng and Susie, and, at their invitation, sat down in the shade before the iron gate. The chestnut trees still bore their fragrant spikes of pink and white, and the bees hummed among the roses, trellised on the white-walled house. A faint freshness was in the air.
Our troops under Braddock, a brave fool, were beaten by the French and Indians in America. Our Mediterranean fleet was baffled under the unfortunate command of Byng. Minorca was taken before our eyes, and the naval and military stars of England seem to have gone down together.
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