Sunset at Sheba Read Online Free PDF Page A

waved a hand half-heartedly. ‘Couldn’t you have sent him anywhere else?’ he asked.
    Winter gestured deprecatingly with his glass. ‘Where, Offy? South Africa hasn’t many places these days where people can’t be found and where it’s hard to get back from.’
    ‘He sounds as though you don’t trust him,’ Romanis grinned.
    ‘I don’t.’
    ‘What?’ They all stared at Winter, and in a moment the cheerfulness had gone again.
    Winter smiled, sliding farther down on the horsehair bench, his hands in his pockets. ‘I told you he was in need of money,’ he said. ‘He had all his equipment pinched a few months back. He’s been having to use hired horses and a condemned police Martini with a kick like a mule.’ He paused and smiled again. ‘He could thread a needle with it, mind,’ he added.
    ‘He needs cash to build up his outfit again,’ he went on. ‘Even shooting costs money and he’s a bit desperate. He’s just come out of jail. A slight fracas with the man who robbed him. Suppose Fabricius thinks of offering him a bigger bribe not to go away, how are we to know he won’t be tempted to change course or even turn round and come back?’
    Romanis straightened his back with a jerk. ‘Anybody but a Yid wouldn’t need bribing,’ he said loudly. ‘He’d have done it for the Old Country.’
    ‘Needs must when the Devil drives,’ Winter said cheerfully.
    Romanis was sitting on the edge of the horsehair bench now, his blank youthful face indignant. Kitto was standing with his hands in his pockets, his eyes contemptuous, as though he were disgusted with all their machinations, and Hoole was by the table, the door forgotten. Hazell stood alone in the background, still holding a sheet of paper as though he were there only to take notes.
    They were still like that, grouped round one corner of the billiard table, when a fist clattered on the coloured lozenges in the door. Guiltily almost, they started apart.
    ‘Who the hell’s that?’ Kitto demanded sharply.
    Only Winter remained where he was, stretched out on the bench near the window, his hands in his pockets, his glass on the floor beside him.
    ‘See who it is,’ Plummer said.
    Hazell crossed to the door and opened it. The little Portuguese clerk was there, trying to see past him, trying to find Plummer.
    ‘What is it?’ Hazell demanded, and the clerk leaned forward, muttering something softly.
    Hazell turned, his eyes a little scared. ‘It’s Fabricius,’ he said. ‘He’s in the hotel. He’s asking to see you, Mr Plummer.’
    Plummer glanced quickly at the others.
    ‘Better see him,’ Hoole advised. ‘He’s only fishing. He doesn’t know anything. Give us a minute, though. Just give us a minute.’
    Plummer nodded and Hazell muttered something to the clerk and closed the door softly.
    ‘Blasted treacherous bung-nosed Boer,’ Kitto said. ‘He’s one of De Wet’s men. What’s he want?’
    ‘Information, I suppose,’ Hoole pointed out. ‘About Schuter. But we can stand him off all right. We’ve nothing to worry about. Not yet. Not with Willie out of the way. We’ve only to decide what to do about this Schuter chap. That’s all.’
    Plummer was studying the floor and he looked up quickly. ‘Can’t we make certain he doesn’t change his mind?’ he asked.
    ‘What?’ Romanis looked startled. ‘Kill him?’
    Plummer swung round. ‘For God’s sake, Romanis!’ he said. ‘Will you never learn? You’ve been reading too much Henty and Marryat. This is the Twentieth Century. There musn’t be any violence.’
    Romanis looked sulky. ‘What’s a Sheeny or two?’ he said.
    Hoole took off his glasses and started to polish them. ‘You said he shot for a living?’ he asked, peering shortsightedly at Winter.
    Winter nodded. ‘For the Kimberley and Jo’burg markets. You can get a pound a carcass even here in Plummerton. That’s why he was so perfect as Willie’s middleman. Few friends. No questions asked. He’s not the type