But suddenly his voice rang out in a guttural cry—"Baas!"
In an instant a hand was clapped on his mouth, and his own dirty neckcloth provided a gag.
The storm was over. The native blood in him acknowledged the logic of superior force, and he walked out quietly between the sentries. Stafford's move was regular from a military point of view. He was justified in disposing of a dangerous and recalcitrant prisoner. He could find a sufficient explanation if he was challenged.
As he turned round from the doorway through which Krool had disappeared, he saw Al'mah, who had entered from another room during the incident.
A light came to Stafford's face. They two derelicts of life had much in common—the communion of sinners who had been so much sinned against.
"I heard his last words about you and—her," she said in a low voice.
"Where is Byng?" he asked anxiously.
"In the kloof near by. He will be back presently."
"Thank God!"
Al'mah's face was anxious. "I don't know what you are going to say to him, or why you have come," she said, "but—"