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Updated: May 16, 2025
He's got a way to make his bunch and they're the hardest-bit bunch in the army do anything he wants 'em to. He's as hard himself as ever is, but he's all right underneath the epidermotis." All at once there flashed before Jasmine's eyes the picture of Rudyard driving Krool out of the house in Park Lane with a sjambok.
The face of the half-caste had grown more furtive than it was in the London days, and as he looked at Stafford now, it had a malignant expression which showed through the mask of his outward self-control. "I am prisoner," Krool answered thickly. "When where?" Stafford inquired, his eye holding the other's. "At Hetmeyer's Kopje." "But what are you a prisoner doing here at Brinkwort's Farm?"
But he must act; he must prevent Krool from telling the Baas. Yonder at the hospital was Jasmine, and she and her man must come together here in this peaceful covert before Rudyard went forward with the army. It must be so. Two sentries were beyond the doorway. He stepped quickly to the stoep and summoned them. They came. Krool watched with eyes that, at first, did not understand.
It was the only thing in which Byng had proved invulnerable, and Krool had remained a menace which she vaguely felt and tried to conquer, which, in vain, Adrian Fellowes had endeavoured to remove. For in the years in which Fellowes had been Byng's secretary his relations with Krool seemed amiable and he had made light of Jasmine's prejudices. "The butler is out and they come me," Krool said. "Mr.
She really wanted her idealistic self wanted to be all that she knew she looked, a flower in life and thought. But, oh, it was hard, hard for her to be what she wished! Why should it be so hard for her? She was roused by a voice. "Cronje!" it said in a deep, slow, ragged note. Byng's half-caste valet, Krool, sombre of face, small, lean, ominous, was standing in the doorway.
Here he was only a little distance away from the Embankment, where was to be found Adrian Fellowes; and with bent head he made his way among the motley crowd in front of the station, scarcely noticing any one, yet resenting the jostle and the crush. Suddenly in the crowd in front of him he saw Krool stealing along with a wide-awake hat well down over his eyes.
There was a hideous commonplaceness in the tone which struck a chill to Stafford's heart. "No doubt there is always some one you want to kill. Now listen, Krool. You think you've got a hold over me over Mrs. Byng. You threaten. Well, I have passed through the fire of the coroner's inquest. I have nothing to fear. You have. I saw you in the street as you watched. You came behind me "
He stopped short, and into his face came a look of sullen reticence. "Yes, he and and some one else? Who else?" Her face was white. She had a sudden intuition. He met her eyes. "Adrian Fellowes what Fellowes knew, Krool knew, and one way or another, by one means or another, Fellowes knew a great deal."
All night strange shapes trooped past his clouded eyes, and more than once, in a half-dream, he called out to his master to help him as he was helped long ago when that master rescued him from death. Long before the rest of the house was stirring, Krool wandered hither and thither through the luxurious rooms, vainly endeavouring to occupy himself with his master's clothes, boots, and belongings.
Do I not know all about the Baas' vrouw! She cannot hurt me..." He spat on the ground. "Who is the traitor? Is it Krool? Did Krool steal from the Baas? Krool is the Baas' slave; it is only the friend of the Baas that steal from him only him is traitor. I kill Piet Graaf to save the Baas. No one kills you to save the Baas! I saw you with your arms round the Baas' vrouw. So I go tell the Baas all.
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