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Updated: May 16, 2025
I see by the papers that you have been repeating your triumph. Please sit down. Do you mind my having a little toast while we talk? I always have my petit dejeuner here; and I'm late this morning." "You look very tired," she said as she sat down. Krool here entered with a tray, placing it on a small table by the big desk. He was about to pour out the tea, but Byng waved him away.
It was Krool. An instant later she had dragged Stafford out from beneath the gun, for it was clear that the madman intended to ride off with it. When Krool saw her first he was fastening the last hook of the traces with swift, trained fingers. He stood dumfounded for a moment.
"Yes, Baas." It never occurred to Byng that Krool would resist; it did not occur to Krool that he could resist. Byng was the Baas, who at that moment was the Power immeasurable. There was only one thing to do to obey. "You were told to leave my house by Mrs. Byng, and you did not go." "She was not my Baas." "You would have done her harm, if you could?" "So, Baas."
There was that in the voice, some terrible thing, which drew Krool's eyes in spite of himself, and he met a look of fire and wrath. "I tell why. If it was bad, it was bad. But I tell why, that is all. If it is not good, it is bad, and hell is for the bad; but I tell why." "You got money from Oom Paul for the man Fellowes?" It was hard for him to utter the name. Krool nodded. "Every year much?"
He hesitated a moment, then refrained from opening the letter again, and presently went out into the night and posted all his letters. Krool did not sleep.
"We warned Byng years ago," interposed Barry, "but it was no use. And we've paid for it par and premium." "What can be done to Krool?" asked Fleming. "Nothing particular here," said Barry Whalen, ominously. "Let's have the dog in," urged one of the group. "Without Byng's permission?" interjected Wallstein. There was a silence.
"Rien ne va plus!" called the croupier; but no coins had fallen on the green cloth, and the wheel stopped spinning for the night, as though by common consent. "Krool will murder you some day, Barry," said Fleming, with irritation. "What's the sense in saying things like that to a servant?" "How long ago did Rudyard leave?" asked De Lancy Scovel, curiously. "I didn't see him go.
All the bitterness, anger and rage that he had felt an hour ago concentrated themselves upon Krool without reason, without cause. Or was it that his deeper Other Self had whispered something to his mind about Krool something terrible and malign? In this new mood he made up his mind that he would not see Jasmine till the morning. How late she was!
"Cronje! ... Well?" rejoined Byng, quietly, yet with a kind of smother in the tone. Krool stretched out a long, skinny, open hand, and slowly closed the fingers up tight with a gesture suggestive of a trap closing upon a crushed captive. "Where?" Byng asked, huskily.
"We are not so different, after all. He is primitive at bottom, and so am I. He gets carried away by his emotions, and so do I." She took up the whip, examined it, felt its weight, and drew it with a swift jerk through the air. "I did not even shrink when Krool came stumbling down the stairs, with this cutting his flesh," she said to herself. "Somehow it all seemed natural and right.
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