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Updated: June 18, 2025
Barry would have given much for a flask of brandy. A tablespoonful would bring Rudyard back. A surgeon was not needed, however. Krool's hands had knowledge. Barry remembered the day when Wallstein was taken ill in Rudyard's house, and how Krool acted with the skill of a Westminster sawbones. Suddenly a bugle-call sounded, loud and clear and very near them.
"We have just enough to hang you," said Wallstein, grimly, and lifted and showed the papers Barry Whalen had brought. An insolent smile crossed Krool's face. "You find out too late. That Fellowes is dead. So much you get, but the work is done. It not matter now. It is all done altogether. Oom Paul speaks now, and everything is his from the Cape to the Zambesi, everything his. It is too late.
Wallstein, Wolff, Barry Whalen, Fleming, Hungerford, Reuter, and the others of the inner circle he laughed at in a good-natured way for coddling themselves, and called them not without some truth valetudinarians.
By his glance and by his word of assent, Wallstein set the cue for the rest, and they all got up and went slowly into the other room. Barry Whalen was about to take the sjambok, but Stafford laid his hand upon it, and Barry and he exchanged a look of understanding. "Stafford's a little bit of us in a way," said Barry in a whisper to Wallstein as they left the room.
I was going, but Wallstein was taken ill suddenly. So I stay I stay." She sank down in her chair, going a little pale from excitement. The whiteness of her skin gave a delicate beauty to the faint rose of her cheeks that rose-pink which never was to fade entirely from her face while life was left to her. "If it had been necessary, when would you have gone?" she asked. "At once.
It was Wallstein who took heed of the fact that, as he became rich, Barry Whalen remained poor; and it was he who took note that Barry had a daughter who might any day be left penniless with frail health and no protector; and taking heed and note, it was he made all the Partners unite in taking some financial risks and responsibilities for Barry, when two new mines were opened to Barry's large profit.
There was also De Lancy Scovel, who had become a biggish figure in the Rand world because he had been a kind of financial valet to Wallstein and Byng, and, it was said, had been a real unofficial valet to Rhodes, being an authority on cooking, and on brewing a punch, and a master of commissariat in the long marches which Rhodes made in the days when he trekked into Rhodesia.
"These aren't days when anybody guesses much," remarked Fleming. "And I'd like to know from Mr. Kruger, who knows a lot of things, and doesn't gas, whether he means the mines to be safe." They all looked inquiringly at Wallstein, who in the storms which rocked them all kept his nerve and his countenance with a power almost benign.
You will think that wild hawks are picking out your vitals. If you have sense, you will do what I tell you." Krool's eyes were on the door through which Wallstein had come. His gaze was fixed and tortured. Stafford had suddenly roused in him some strange superstitious element. He was like a creature of a lower order awaiting the approach of the controlling power.
"Like that like that, jackal!" interjected Barry Whalen, opening and shutting his lean fingers with a gesture of savage possession. "What?" asked Krool, with a malevolent thrust forward of his head. "What?" "You betrayed us to Kruger," answered Wallstein, holding the papers. "We have here the proof at last."
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