Left alone, Jelf felt rather small. He had failed in judiciousness, in tact, and he knew it. He had rubbed his interviewer the wrong way, just at a time when it was essential to keep such a man well disposed and friendly. At any rate, here was one item for his report. If Stephanus De la Rey was disaffected, why, then, the whole of the Wildschutsberg district must be a hotbed of seething sedition.
Thus he expressed matters to his subordinate, as, Stephanus having departed, he called Morkel in to talk over their plan.
“He has all but come round, sir,” said the latter. “I talked him over a good deal, and his is one of the places I’m to go to. He won’t give way about the field-cornetcy, though.”
“Oh, well, we must find somebody else, I suppose. They are all rebels at heart, I believe, and he’s as great a rebel as any. Yes? Come in.”
Again the Court constable entered.
“Mynheer Grobbelaar wishes to see you, sir.”
“Grobbelaar? Is it Jan Grobbelaar?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Show him in. This is getting warm, Morkel. Another damned Field-cornet. I suppose he wants to resign now.”
Swaart Jan entered, his projecting buck-teeth more prominent than ever in an oily grin, as he shook hands with the two officials. Jelf’s manner was short, and he wasted no time in preliminaries.