Peter, 'is a very damned lie.'

'I asked for information,' said Stumm with a sudden politeness. 'But
that is all past and done with. Maritz matters no more than your old
Cronjes and Krugers. The show is over, and you are looking for safety.
For a new master perhaps? But, man, what can you bring? What can you
offer? You and your Dutch are lying in the dust with the yoke on your
necks. The Pretoria lawyers have talked you round. You see that map,'
and he pointed to a big one on the wall. 'South Africa is coloured
green. Not red for the English, or yellow for the Germans. Some day
it will be yellow, but for a little it will be green--the colour of
neutrals, of nothings, of boys and young ladies and chicken-hearts.'

I kept wondering what he was playing at.

Then he fixed his eyes on Peter. 'What do you come here for? The
game's up in your own country. What can you offer us Germans? If we
gave you ten million marks and sent you back you could do nothing.
Stir up a village row, perhaps, and shoot a policeman. South Africa is
counted out in this war. Botha is a cleverish man and has beaten you
calves'-heads of rebels. Can you deny it?'

Peter couldn't. He was terribly honest in some things, and these were
for certain his opinions.

'No,' he said, 'that is true, Baas.'

'Then what in God's name can you do?' shouted Stumm.

Peter mumbled some foolishness about nobbling Angola for Germany and
starting a revolution among the natives. Stumm flung up his arms and
cursed, and the Under-Secretary laughed.

It was high time for me to chip in. I was beginning to see the kind of
fellow this Stumm was, and as he talked I thought of my mission, which
had got overlaid by my Boer past. It looked as if he might be useful.

'Let me speak,' I said. 'My friend is a great hunter, but he fights
better than he talks. He is no politician. You speak truth. South
Africa is a closed door for the present, and the key to it is
elsewhere. Here in Europe, and in the east, and in other parts of
Africa. We have come to help you to find the key.'

Stumm was listening. 'Go on, my little Boer. It will be a new thing
to hear a _taakhaar_ on world-politics.'

'You are fighting,' I said, 'in East Africa; and soon you may fight in
Egypt. All the east coast north of the Zambesi will be your
battle-ground. The English run about the world with little
expeditions. I do not know where the places are, though I read of them
in t