“Ah,” the Baron ejaculated, and lapsed into silence.
His eyes were fixed on Gaunt’s face and he studied him keenly. For some time neither of them spoke, and at last the Baron threw away his half consumed cigarette with an impatient movement.
“It is a thousand pities, for I like you, Gaunt. I knew you as a young man and was one of the first to recognize your ability. It is a thousand pities,” he repeated reflectively.
Still Gaunt did not speak, and now their eyes met, the Baron’s cold and menacing.
“You are young and very rash,” he continued quietly, “but with your inside knowledge you ought to recognize our power. Already you have done us serious injury, but I am willing to forgive that if you will promise to remain silent in the future. In a few years our task will be accomplished, and——”
“In a few years—when you have drained the Congo dry—when you have killed off the people in thousands, and when the whole country is desolate. Baron, I understand your policy, for, as you say, I have inside knowledge. I repeat that the infamies shall cease,” Gaunt said with grim determination.
“May I ask if this is blackmail?”
Gaunt jumped to his feet and stood over the Baron with upraised fist.
“Ah! I forgot that you were a rich man. But if that is not your motive, may I ask why you have turned upon those who were once your friends?” the Baron asked calmly, and he did not appear to notice Gaunt’s attitude.
“I think you had better go,” Gaunt said in a low voice that was tense with suppressed anger.