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Updated: June 17, 2025
That did not happen." "The Baas is going to South Africa." "And Mr. Fellowes?" "He went like I expec'." "He died heart failure, eh?" A look of contempt, malevolence, and secret reflection came into Krool's face. "He was kill," he said. "Who killed him?" Krool was about to shrug his shoulders, but his glance fell on the sjambok, and he made an ugly gesture with his lean fingers.
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.
"The Baas you have forgotten him," said Wallstein. A look combined of cunning, fear and servility crossed Krool's face, but he said, morosely: "The Baas I will do what I like." There was a singular defiance and meaning in his tone, and the moment seemed critical, for Barry Whalen's face was distorted with fury.
"I saw all that come, all that go in to him." With a swift mind Stafford saw his advantage the one chance, the one card he could play, the one move he could make in checkmate, if, and when, necessary. "So you saw all that came and went. And you came and went yourself!" His eyes were hard and bright as he held Krool's, and there was a sinister smile on his lips.
Barry's anger became uneasiness, and Stafford's interest turned to anxiety. There was an instant's pause after Krool's words, and then Wolff the silent, gone wild, caught the sjambok from the hands of Barry Whalen. He made a movement towards Krool, who again suddenly shrank, as he would not have shrunk from a weapon of steel. "Wait a minute," cried Fleming, seizing the arm of his friend.
Krool had haunted the room, desiring the end of it all; but he had been disarmed by a smiling kindness on Jasmine's part, which shook his purpose again and again. It had all been a problem which Krool's furtive mind failed to master.
"The Baas!" mocked Barry Whalen, swinging round again. "The Baas is gone to find a rope to tie Oom Paul to a tree, as Oom Paul tied you at Lichtenburg." Slowly Krool's eyes went round the room, and then settled on Barry Whalen's face with owl-like gravity. "What the Baas does goes good," he said. "When the Baas ties, Alles zal recht kom."
A flush stole across Krool's face, and when it passed again he was paler than before. "I have save the Baas," he answered, sullenly. "From what?" "From you." With a powerful effort, Stafford controlled himself. He dreaded what was now to be said, but he felt inevitably what it was. "How from me?" "If that Fellowes' letter come into his hands first, yours would not matter.
It's the way to make you straight and true, my sweet Krool." Still keeping his eyes fixed on Krool's eyes, his hand reached out and slowly took the sjambok from the table. He ran the cruel thing through his fingers as does a prison expert the cat-o'-nine-tails before laying on the lashes of penalty.
There was a strange silence, in which Stafford could feel Krool's soul struggling in the dark, as it were a struggle as of black spirits in the grey dawn. "I wait the Baas speak," Krool said at last, with a shiver. There was no time for Stafford to answer. Wallstein entered the room hurriedly. "Byng has come.
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