The Angels Weep Read Online Free PDF

sauntered into the inner stockade of
the camp.
    The canvas sides of the dining marquee had been rolled up to
allow the cool afternoon breeze to blow through it, and there
were half a dozen men seated at the long trestle-table. In the
centre of the group was a hulking figure, dressed in an
ill-fitting jacket of expensive English cloth that was closed to
the top button. The knot of his necktie had slipped and the
colours of Oriel College were dulled with the dust of the long
road up from the diamond city of Kimberley.
    Even Ralph, whose feelings for this ungainly giant of a man
were ambivalent, hostility mixed with a grudging admiration, was
shocked by the changes that a few short years had wrought on him.
The meaty features seemed to have sagged from the raw bones of
his face, his colour was high and unhealthy. He was barely forty
years of age, yet his moustache and sideburns had faded from
ruddy blond to dull silver, and he looked fifteen years older.
Only the pale blue eyes retained their force and mystic visionary
glitter.
    ‘Well, how are you, Ralph?’ His voice was high and
clear, incongruous in such a big body.
    ‘Good afternoon, Mr Rhodes,’ Ralph replied, and
despite himself let his son slip from his shoulder and lowered
him gently to the ground. Instantly the child darted away.
    ‘How is my railway progressing, while you are out here
enjoying yourself?’
    ‘Ahead of schedule and below budget,’ Ralph
countered the barely veiled rebuke, and with a small effort broke
the hypnotic gaze of those blue eyes and glanced at the men who
flanked Mr Rhodes.
    On his right was the great man’s shadow, small,
narrow-shouldered and as neatly dressed as his master was untidy.
He had the prim but nondescript features of a schoolmaster, and
receding wispy hair, but keen and acquisitive eyes that gave the
lie to the rest of it.
    ‘Jameson,’ Ralph nodded coolly at him, using
neither Doctor Leander Starr Jameson’s title nor the more
familiar and affectionate ‘Doctor Jim’.
    ‘Young Ballantyne.’ Jameson slightly emphasized
the diminutive and gave it a faintly derogatory twist. From the
very first, their hostility had been mutual and instinctive.
    From Rhodes’ left rose a younger man with straight back
and broad shoulders, an open handsome face and a friendly smile
which showed big even white teeth.
    ‘Hello, Ralph.’ His handshake was firm and dry,
his Kentucky accent easy and pleasant.
    ‘Harry, I was speaking of you this very morning.’
Ralph’s pleasure was obvious, and he glanced at Zouga.
‘Papa, this is Harry Mellow, the best mining engineer in
Africa.’
    Zouga nodded. ‘We have been introduced.’ And
father and son exchanged a glance of understanding.
    This young American was the one that Ralph had chosen to
develop and operate the Harkness Mine. It meant little to Ralph
that Harry Mellow, like most of the bright young bachelors of
special promise in southern Africa, already worked for Cecil John
Rhodes. Ralph intended to find the bait that would tempt him
away.
    ‘We must talk later, Harry,’ he murmured, and
turned to another young man seated at the end of the table.
    ‘Jordan,’ he exclaimed. ‘By God, it’s
good to see you.’
    The two brothers met and embraced, and Ralph made no effort to
hide his affection, but then everybody loved Jordan. They loved
him not only for his golden beauty and gentle manner, but also
for his many talents and for the warmth and real concern that he
extended to all about him.
    ‘Oh Ralph, I have so much to ask, and so much to tell
you.’ Jordan’s delight was as intense as
Ralph’s.
    ‘Later, Jordan,’ Mr Rhodes broke in querulously.
He did not like to be interrupted, and he waved Jordan back to
his seat. Jordan went instantly. He had been Mr Rhodes’
private secretary since he was nineteen years of age, and
obedience to his master’s least whim was part of his nature
by now.
    Rhodes glanced at Cathy