He said so!
“And why? Did he tell you that?”
“He has come to the conclusion,” Cathcart said, “that the scheme is impracticable altogether and the concessions worthless. He is going to get what he can for his shares while he has the chance.”
Trent drained his tumbler and lit a cigar. “So much for Da Souza,” he said. “And now I should like to know, Mr. Stanley Cathcart, what the devil you and your assistant are doing shacking here in the cool of the day when you are the servants of the Bekwando Company and there's work to be done of the utmost importance? The whole place seems to be asleep. Where's your labour? There's not a soul at work. We planned exactly when to start the road. What the mischief do you mean by wasting a fortnight?”
Cathcart coughed and was obviously ill-at-ease, but he answered with some show of dignity.
“I have come to the conclusion, Mr. Trent, that the making of the road is impracticable and useless. There is insufficient labour and poor tools, no satisfactory method of draining the swampy country, and further, I don't think any one would work with the constant fear of an attack from those savages.”
“So that's your opinion, is it?” Trent said grimly.
“That is my opinion,” Cathcart answered. “I have embodied it in a report which I despatched to the secretary of the Company by Mr. Da Souza.”
Trent rose and opened the door which swung into the little room.
“Out you go!” he said fiercely.