Holman seemed to have no specified profession. He was interested in company promoting, and had undoubtedly some influence in mining circles. He was a man of mystery, whose movements were abrupt and always uncertain, and whose friends were as insignificant in numbers as his circle of acquaintances was large. He travelled at irregular intervals to Europe; but he was seldom absent from Africa for longer than three months at a stretch. He hated the land, he was wont to say; but it was too important an investment to disregard.
“Rhodes realised the value of Africa,” he informed Matheson. “He would have connived at anything so that he could hold it for the Empire in the hollow of his hand. But there was one thing he didn’t foresee.”
“What is that?” Matheson had asked.
“The near future will shed a light upon that,” was the unexpected reply. “I’ll leave it to the future to answer your question.”
Matheson’s knowledge of African politics and African history was superficial. He had considered the Boer war necessary as putting the only possible finish to an intolerable situation. He further considered independent government a mistake. Older and wiser men thought the same, but they were in the minority. The blunders of misgovernment are the inevitable result of circumscribed powers. To quote a wise and able statesman: It is better that a country should govern itself from within, even if at first it govern badly.
Chapter Three.
Holman was seated at lunch when Matheson joined him. He had tucked a napkin inside his waistcoat, and, with his elbows at right angles, leaned well over his plate, eating stewed mutton with an appetite which not even the extreme heat could affect. His table manners were a continual source of surprise and disgust to Matheson. A navvy could have given him points in daintiness.
“Finished spooning?” he asked, looking up as the younger man pulled out his chair and dropped heavily into it.