Byng scanned it very carefully and slowly, and his face darkened as he read; for there were certain things set down of which only he and Wallstein and one or two others knew; which only he and one high in authority in England knew, besides Wallstein.

His face slowly reddened with anger.

London life, and its excitements multiplied by his wife and not avoided by himself, had worn on him, had affected his once sunny and even temper, had given him greater bulk, with a touch of flabbiness under the chin and at the neck, and had slackened the firmness of the muscles.
Presently he got up, went over to a table, and helped himself to brandy and soda, motioning to Barry to do the same.

There were two or three minutes' silence, and then he said: "There's something wrong, certainly, but it isn't Krool.

No, it isn't Krool." "Nevertheless, if you're wise you'll ship him back beyond the Vaal, my friend." "It isn't Krool.