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Updated: May 16, 2025
What jury in the world but would convict you on your own evidence? Besides, you knew " He paused to deliver a blow on the barest chance. It was an insidious challenge which, if it failed, might do more harm to others, might do great harm, but he plunged. "You knew about the needle." Krool was cowed and silent. On a venture Stafford had struck straight home. "You knew that Mr.
Your action could then be decided by Krool's attitude and what he says." Barry Whalen rang the bell, and the footman came. After a brief waiting Krool entered the room with irritating deliberation and closed the door behind him. He looked at no one, but stood contemplating space with a composure which made Barry Whalen almost jump from his seat in rage.
Coming up the staircase from the street, she had seen Krool enter her husband's room more hastily than usual, and had heard him greeted sharply something that sounded strange to her ears, for Rudyard was uniformly kind to Krool. Never had Rudyard's voice sounded as it did now. Of course it was her imagination, but it was like a voice which came from some desolate place, distant, arid and alien.
"And because I do not love you, I will not stay. I never loved you, never truly loved you at any time. I never knew myself that is all that I can say. I never was awake till now. I never was wholly awake till I saw you driving Krool into the street with the sjambok." She flung up her hands. "For God's sake, let me be truthful at last.
As Byng spoke, Krool entered the room with a great coffee-pot and a dozen small white bowls. He heard Byng's words, and for a moment his dark eyes glowed with a look of evil satisfaction. But his immobile face showed nothing, and he moved like a spirit among them his lean hand putting a bowl before each person, like a servitor of Death passing the hemlock-brew.
He looked impudently at Stafford, and Stafford read the meaning behind the unveiled insolence: Krool knew what no one else but Jasmine and himself knew with absolute certainty.
He knew so much that was useful to Oom Paul; but what he knew he did not himself convey, though it reached those who welcomed it eagerly and grimly. All that he knew, another also near to the Baas also knew, and knew it before Krool; and reaped the reward of knowing.
As he did so he vaguely wondered why Krool had overlooked it as he passed in and out. Perhaps Krool had dropped it. His eyes fell on the opening words... His face turned ashen white. A harsh cry broke from him.
The look in Krool's eyes only increased Byng's lust of punishment. What else was there to do? Without terrible scandal there was no other way to punish the traitor, but if there had been another way he would still have done this. This Krool understood; behind every command the Baas had ever given him this thing lay the sjambok, the natural engine of authority.
Krool did not stir, and some of the liquid caught him in the face. Slowly he drew out an old yellow handkerchief and wiped his cheeks, his eyes fixed with a kind of impersonal scrutiny on Barry Whalen and the scene before him. The night was well forward, and an air of recklessness and dissipation pervaded this splendid room in De Lancy Scovel's house.
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