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Updated: May 16, 2025
With Krool before them, who was of the veld and the karoo, whose natural habitat was but a cross between a krall and the stoep of a dopper's home, these men were instantly transported to the land where their hearts were in spite of all, though the flesh-pots of the West End of London had turned them into by-paths for a while.
She emerged from it all the same woman who had flung her married life, her man, and her old world to the winds on the day that Krool had been driven into the street. Like Krool, she too had gone out into the unknown into a strange land where "the Baas" had no habitation.
He never interfered with the acts of his fellow-servants, except in so far as those acts affected his master's comfort; and he paid no attention to their words except where they affected himself. "When you think it's a ghost, it's only Krool wanderin' w'ere he ain't got no business," was the angry remark of the upper-housemaid, whom his sudden appearance had startled in a dim passage one day.
Barry straightened himself and looked Byng rather hesitatingly in the face; then he said, slowly: "I don't know much about Fleming's suspicions. Mine, though, are at least three years old, and you know them. "Krool?" "Krool for sure." "What would be Krool's object in betraying us, even if he knew all we say and do?"
With a low cry Byng ran forward, the sjambok swung through the air, and the terrible whip descended on the crouching half-caste. Krool gave one cry and fell back a little, but he made no attempt to resist. Suddenly Byng went to a window and threw it open. "You can jump from there or take the sjambok. Which?" he said with a passion not that of a man wholly sane. "Which?"
"Don't forget that England hasn't had a tenth of her share of Ian Stafford," Alice Tynemouth had said. Looking round, he saw men whose sufferings were no doubt as great as his own or greater; but they were living on for others' sakes. Despair retreated before a woman's insight. "The Alpine fellow" wanted to live now. "What are you doing here, Krool?"
So Krool, estranged, lonely, even in the heart of friendly, pushing, jostling London, still was haunted by presences which whispered to him, not with the old clearness of bygone days, but with confused utterances and clouded meaning; and yet sufficient in dark suggestion for him to know that ill happenings were at hand, and that he would be in the midst of them, an instrument of Fate.
There was something almost authoritative in his tone. "For Byng's sake his wife you understand," was all Stafford had said under his breath, but it was an illumination to Wallstein, who whispered to Stafford. "Yes, that's it. Krool holds some card, and he'll play it now."
That was a day of tragedy, when you and Rudyard Byng won a hundred Royal Humane Society medals, and we all felt like martyrs and heroes. I had the most creepy dreams afterwards. One night it was awful. I was being tortured with Mr. Mappin's needle horribly by guess whom? By that half-caste Krool, and I waked up with a little scream, to find Tynie busy pinching me.
In a real sense he had been very primitive, very objective in all he thought and said and did. With imagination, and a sensitive organization out of keeping with his immense physique, it was still only a visualizing sense which he had, only a thing that belongs to races such as those of which Krool had come.
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