He seemed to have aged a good deal in the three or four years since I had seen him in London. I noticed signs of nervousness in him that I had not expected. He astonished me almost at once by saying: "We are still friends, are we not?"
"Of course; always," I replied warmly.
"People have been saying," he went on, "that you were sent out by Chamberlain, but that can hardly be true. He would surely have let me know. Still, he is capable even of that, I suppose."
His words and tone set me marveling. But for the moment I could not occupy myself with his opinion of Chamberlain. I noted that he was a good deal irritated and left it at that.
"No," I replied, "no, I have nothing to do with Mr. Chamberlain. I imagine he would hardly be likely to send me as an agent."
"I am glad of that," said Hercules Robinson. "We can then be on the old footing, can't we?"
I nodded.
"Why didn't you come to see me at once?"
"To tell you the truth," I answered frankly, "I wanted to see Jan Hofmeyr, wanted certain information before I came. I had to get clear in my own mind about the raid and Rhodes's complicity in it, and I didn't think it would be fair to question you in your position-I, your friend."
"You have found out all you wanted to know?"
"I have found out that you were all in it," I replied, thinking the challenge would excite him. "Rhodes planned it of course, but you winked at it."
"Winked at it," he repeated hotly; "you are mistaken: it isn't true."
"Oh, no," I laughed. "I was saying, 'winked' at it to be very diplomatic and polite. You knew all about it."
"Indeed, I did not," he took me up. "What put that into your head?"
"Come," I said gravely. "Surely you won't maintain that an armed force could have lain weeks on the border without your knowing it."
"But I assure you," he said, "you are mistaken. I knew nothing of the raid."
"I should like to take your word," I persisted, "but it is impossible. I have absolute proof."
"Proof?" he cried. "That's impossible. You must explain: you must see that your statement is-is-dishonoring. I have assured Krueger on my honor that it isn't true; he accepted my assurance, so must you."
I shook my head. "I'm afraid I can't."
"But I can explain everything," he went on. "For the first time in my experience the Colonial Office acted over my head. If you must know the whole truth, Chamberlain withdrew the political officer who was on the border; Chamberlain said he would deal with the matters connected with Jameson directly. I shrugged my shoulders, and let it pass. It was all a part, I thought, of his new method of doing business. He has his own peculiar methods," he concluded bitterly.
New light began to drift in on me; at least a hitherto unthought of suspicion.
"But you saw Rhodes on the matter," I ventured. "He must have told you at any rate that Jameson's forces were there to bring a little pressure on Krueger; he must have talked to you about the reform agitation he had helped to get up in Johannesburg."
"I shouldn't have listened to such nonsense for a moment," cried Robinson.
"The way to get things out of Krueger is to behave straightforwardly with him."
"Rhodes got something out of him over the Drifts business by threatening war."
"That was different," Robinson admitted reluctantly. "Krueger felt he was in the wrong there. But now I hope you understand that I had no complicity in that shameful, stupid raid."
I had resolved to continue, so I persisted.
"I told you I had proofs," I replied. "You have destroyed one supposition, but the proofs remain."
"Proofs?" he said, in an anxious, irritated tone of voice. "There are none; there can't be any, Harris."
"Indubitable proofs," I repeated.
"It's impossible," he exclaimed. "Treat me like a friend. I tell you on my word of honor I knew nothing of the raid."
"I am sorry," I replied, "but if you want me to deal like a friend with you, I can only say I can't believe it."
"Good God," he cried, getting up from the desk and walking about the room.
"This is maddening. Speak plainly, lay your proofs before me, and I will undertake to demolish every one of them."
"If I show you proofs that you can't demolish," I said, "will you deal fairly by me and tell me all you really know, and what I want to know?"
"Certainly," he exclaimed. "I give you my promise; I have nothing to conceal."
"All right," I cried, "I will give you the proofs one after another. Here is the first."
Sir Hercules Robinson's face was a study in conflicting emotions as I went on.
"When you first got news on the Sunday morning that Jameson had crossed the frontier, you wired to him to return, and you wired to Krueger saying that you had ordered Jameson to return, and that the raid was not authorized by Her Majesty's Government."
"Yes," Robinson broke in sharply, "that's what I did."
"You must have expected an answer in two hours," I went on. "If not an answer from Jameson, certainly an answer from Krueger."
"Of course," replied Robinson, "and I got a reply from Krueger."
"Pardon me for contradicting you," I replied, "but you did not. You got from Krueger a mere statement that Jameson had crossed the border at a certain hour with an armed force. You must have known from that telegram that President Krueger hadn't had your telegram."
"No," replied Robinson, "I see what you mean, but we were all very much excited and nervous, and I drew no such inference. The first thing I did was to send to Rhodes to ask if he knew anything about Jameson's act. I wanted to consult with him."
"I suppose he was not to be seen?" I said.
"That's true," said Robinson. "But how did you know?"
"Easy to be guessed," I replied carelessly.
"Rhodes returned no reply to any of my messages: in fact, he wouldn't see my messengers," Robinson went on.
"But at ten o'clock," I insisted, "you had a call from Jan Hofmeyr. He asked you to send out a proclamation, a public proclamation declaring that Her Majesty's Government had nothing to do with the raid, and that you had recalled Jameson by wire. You would not do this."
"I didn't see the necessity of it," Hercules Robinson answered. "I had wired to Jameson, and I had wired to Krueger, and I considered that enough. Krueger knew that the raid was unauthorized, and that was the main point."
"But Krueger did not know it," I replied, "and you must have known that he didn't know."
"What do you mean?" cried Robinson. "I knew nothing at all of it." And then he added, as if to himself, "When I was up at Pretoria, Krueger never said that to me."
"Outsiders see most of the game," I went on. "Let us go back to that Saturday.
You have an exciting morning, but you get your lunch, and after lunch at about, I suppose, three-thirty o'clock, you get another wire from Krueger repeating his news, amplifying it, saying that Jameson had crossed the frontier with Maxim guns, and asking you what you are going to do. Now you must have known that he hadn't yet got your first telegram."
"No, I didn't know," said Robinson. "It ail passed in the hurry and excitement of the moment."
"But why didn't you duplicate your telegram to him," I asked, "saying that the raid was not authorized, and that you would order Jameson's return?"
"I did," he said.
"No, you didn't," I replied, "not at once, that is. Later that afternoon," I went on,
"or rather that evening, you got a telegram from Krueger again giving you the news, and insisting on a reply."
"You are right," Robinson broke in, "I remember now; it was that last telegram that I answered. But how did you know all this?"