Johnny will you call the men out? I would like to speak to them before we ride and, Zouga, will you see to it that the telegraph lines are all cut? I don't want ever to see another one of those communications from Frankie. Anything more he has to say, he can tell me face to face when we reach Johannesburg.' 'They've got Jameson!'
The cry echoed through the elegant hush of the Kimberley Club, like a Hun war-cry at the gates of Rome.
The consternation was immediate and overwhelming. Members boiled out of the long bar into the marbled lobby, and surrounded the news-crier. Others from the reading room lined the banisters, shouting their queries down the stair-well. In the dining-room someone bumped into the carving-wagon in his haste to reach the lobby, and sent it crashing on its side while the joint rolled across the floor with roast potatoes preceding it like a squad of footmen.
The bearer of the news was one of the prosperous Kimberley diamond-buyers, a profession no longer referred to as 'kopje-walloping', and such was his agitation that he had forgotten to remove his straw boater when entering the club portals. An offence that at another time would have merited a reprimand from the committee.
Now he stood in the centre of the lobby, hat firmly on his head and reading spectacles sliding to the end of his em purpled nose, a symptom of his excitement and agitation. He was reading from a copy of The Diamond Fields Advertiser, the ink of which was so fresh that it smeared his fingers. 'Jameson raises White Flag at Doomkop after sixteen killed in fierce fighting. Doctor Jameson, I have the honour -to meet you. General Cronje accepts surrender.' Ralph Ballantyne had not left his seat at the head of the corner table, although his guests had deserted him to join the rush into the lobby. He signalled the distracted wine waiter to refill his glass, and then helped himself to another spoonful of the sole bonne femme, while he waited for his guests to return. They came trooping back, led by Aaron Fagan, like a funeral party returning from the cemetery.
'The Boers must have been waiting for them-' 'Doctor Jim walked straight into it-' 'What on earth did the man think he was doing?'
Chairs rasped and every one of them reached for his glass the moment he was seated.
'He had six hundred and sixty men and guns. By God, it was a carefully planned thing then.' 'There will be a few tales to tell.'
'And heads to roll, no doubt.' 'Doctor Jim's luck has run out at last.'
'Ralph, your father is amongst the prisoners!' Aaron was reading the newsprint.
For the first time Ralph showed emotion. 'That's not possible.'
He snatched the paper from Aaron's hand, and stared at it in agony.
'What happened?' he muttered. 'Oh God, what has happened?' But somebody else was yelling in the lobby. 'Kruger has arrested all the members of the Reform Committee he has promised to have them tried for their lives.' 'The gold mines!' another said clearly in the ensuing silence, and instinctively every head lifted to the clock on the wall above the dining-room entrance. It was twenty minutes to two.
The stock exchange re-opened on the hour. There was another rush, this time out of the club doors. On the sidewalk, hatldss members shouted impatiently for their carriages, while others set out at a determined trot towards the stock exchange buildings.
The club was almost deserted, not more than ten diners were left at the tables. Aaron and Ralph were alone at the corner table. Ralph still held the list of prisoners in his hand.
'I cannot believe it,'he whispered.
'It's a catastrophe. What can possibly have possessed Jameson?'
Aaron agreed.
It seemed that the worst had happened, nothing could match the dreadful tidings that they had received so far, but then the club secretary came out of his office ashen-faced, and stood in the doorway of the dining-room.
'Gentlemen, he croaked. 'I have some more terrible news. It has just come through on the wire. Mr. Rhodes has offered his resignation as prime minister of Cape Colony. He has also offered to resign from the chairmanship of the Charter Company, of De Beers and of Consolidated Goldfields.' 'Rhodes,' Aaron whispered. 'Mr. Rhodes was in it. It's a conspiracy the Lord only knows what will be the final consequences of this thing, and who Mr. Rhodes will bring down with him.' 'I think we should order a decanter of port,' said Ralph, as he pushed his plate away from him. 'I'm not hungry any more.' He thought about his father in a Boer prison, and suddenly an image come into his mind of Zouga Ballantyne in a white shirt, his hands bound behind his back, his gold- and silver-laced beard sparkling in the sunlight, the whitewashed wall at his back, regarding the rank of riflemen in front of him with those calm green eyes of his. Ralph felt nauseated and the rare old port tasted like quinine on his tongue. He set the glass down.
'Ralph.' Aaron was staring at him across the table. 'The bear transaction, you sold the shares of Charter and Consolidated short, and your position is still open.' 'I have closed all your transactions,' said David Silver. 'I averaged out BSA shares at a little over seven pounds, that gives you a profit, after commission and levy, of almost four pounds a share. You did even better on the Consolidated Goldfields transactions, they were the worst hit in the crash, from eight pounds when you began selling them short they dropped to almost two pounds when it looked as though Kruger was going to seize the mining companies of the Witwatersrand in retaliation.' David Silver broke off and looked at Ralph with awe. 'It is the kind of killing which becomes a legend on the floor, Mr. Ballantyne. The frightful risk you took,' he shook his head in admiration. 'What courage! What foresightV 'What luck!' said Ralph impatiently. 'Do you have my difference cheque?' 'I have.' David Silver opened the black leather valise in his lap and brought from it a snowy white envelope sealed with a rosette of scarlet wax.
'It is counted signed and guaranteed by my bank.' David laid it reverently upon his Uncle Aaron's desk-top. 'The total is,' and he breathed it like a lover, 'one million and fifty-eight pounds eight shillings and sixpence. After the one that Mr. Rhodes paid to Barney Barnato for his claims in the Kimberley mine, it is the largest cheque ever drawn in Africa, south of the equator. what do you say to that, Mr. Ballantyne?' Ralph looked at Aaron in the chair behind the desk.
'You know what to do with it. Just be certain it can never be traced back to me.' 'I understand,' Aaron nodded, and Ralph changed the subject.
'Has there been an answer to my telegraph yet? My wife is not usually so slow in replying.' And because Aaron was an old friend, who loved the gentle Cathy as much as any of her many admirers, Ralph went on to explain. 'She is within two months of her time. Now that the dust of Jameson's little adventure has begun to settle and there is no longer any danger of war, I must get Cathy down here, where she can have expert medical attention.' 'I'll send my clerk to the telegraph office.' Aaron rose and crossed to the door of the outer office, to give his instructions. Then he looked back at his nephew. 'Was there anything else, David?' The little stockbroker started. He had been staring at Ralph Ballantyne with the glow of hero-worship in his eyes.
Now he hastily assembled his papers, and stuffed them into his valise, before coming and offering his soft white hand to Ralph.
'I cannot tell you what an honour it has been to be associated with you, Mr. Ballantyne. If there is ever anything at all I can do for you-' Aaron had to shoo him out of the door.
'Poor David,' he murmured, as he came back to the desk. 'His very first millionaire, it's a watershed in any young stockbroker's life.'
'My father-' Ralph did not even smile.
'I'm sorry, Ralph. There is nothing more we can do. He will go back to England in chains with Jameson and the others. They are to be imprisoned in Wormwood Scrubs until they are called to answer the charge. 'Aaron selected a sheet of paper from the pile on his desk.
'That they, with certain other persons in the month of December 1895, in South Africa, within Her Majesty's dominions, did unlaufully prepare and fit out a military expedition to proceed against the dominions of a certain friendly state, to wit, the South African Republic, contrary to the provisions of the Foreign Enlistment Act of 1870.'' Aaron laid down the paper and shook his head. 'There is nothing any of us can do now.'
'What will happen to them? It's a capital offence-' 'Oh no, Ralph, I am sure it won't come to that.' Ralph sank down in his chair and stared moodily out of the window, for the hundredth time castigating himself for not having anticipated that Jameson would cut the telegraph lines before marching on Johannesburg. The recall that Cathy had sent to Zouga Ballantyne, the fiction that Louise was gravely ill, had never reached him and Zouga had ridden into the waiting Boer commandos with the rest of them.
If only, Ralph thought, and then his thoughts were interrupted.
He looked up expectantly as the clerk came hesitantly into the office.
'Has there been a reply from my wife?' Ralph demanded, and the man shook his head.
'Begging your pardon, Mr. Ballantyne, Sir, but there has not.' He hesitated, and Ralph urged him. 'Well, man, what is it? Spit it out, there's a good fellow.' 'It seems that all the telegraph lines to Rhodesia have been down since noon on Monday.' 'Oh, so that is it.'
'No, Mr. Ballantyne, that's not all. There has been a message from Toti on the Rhodesian border. It seems a rider got through this morning.'
The clerk gulped. 'This
