8

October 1887

The directors of the De Beers Mining Company, alerted by telegraph from his previous stop at Bloemfontein in the Free State, were waiting for Cecil Rhodes as his express coach from Cape Town rolled down the Dutoitspan Road and came to a halt before the Kimberley Club, the horses panting in the early-spring heat, the coachman covered with dust, the outriders weary from holding their precarious perch. The trip from Cape Town had been accomplished in six days, a record, and its toll was apparent on all passengers and crew. With instructions to Pickering to proceed with the carriage to Market Square and handle the luggage, Rhodes got down stiffly and marched into the club, followed by those who had been awaiting him. He walked through the half-deserted bar and into their usual meeting room beyond, taking his place at the head of the table, quite as if he had not been gone for the past three months on a most delicate mission for the company to London. The others seated themselves around the table while Rhodes considered each one in turn, his face a stone façade. The others glanced at each other uneasily as they waited. At last Rhodes smiled, a wide smile, almost an elfin grin, a most unusual expression on that normally dour face.

“I got the money,” he said quietly, but with great effect on his companions.

There was a general atmosphere of relief at his words; their faces began to relax. The smiles became general.

“How much?” Dr. Jameson asked.

“Whatever it takes to accomplish our mission, up to five million pounds. That’s for complete control, of course, not just for this stage. I believe that together with our own funds it should be more than ample.” The smile was removed from Rhodes’ face as if holding it that long had begun to become painful. He got down to serious business. “We cannot afford to fail this time! There is too much at stake! The Rothschilds would become most concerned if we did, and we shall need them in the future if my plans mature as I expect them to. Besides, I have worked on these Jew bankers for nearly four years to reach this point, and I have no intention of letting this opportunity slip through my fingers at the last moment! Is that understood?”

There was silence. Rhodes nodded and went on.

“Good. Barnato took over the Central Company when Robinson went bankrupt as a result of that most suspicious explosion which I am sure we are all convinced was due not to an act of God but to an act of Barnato, even though nothing was ever proven. He outbid us for the French Company by a whopping three hundred thousand pounds, all, I am convinced, earned on the illicit diamond market. He combined Barnato-Central with the French Company to form Kimberley Mines, and that covers the entire Big Hole. I’m repeating this although I know you know the facts as well as I do, because I want you all to realize the full importance of the operation we are about to start. It is absolutely essential that we wrest the control of Kimberley Mines, the richest mine in the diamond fields, from this man!” He leaned back in his chair, his hooded eyes searching the faces about the table for some sign of disagreement, of possible rebellion, prepared to instantly put it down.

“D’you have any specific plans?” Rudd asked. He was tilted back in his chair as usual, a huge cigar stuck at a jaunty angle between his teeth, speaking about the clouds of smoke, seemingly unimpressed with the intensity of Rhodes’ tone.

Rhodes frowned as if he did not understand the question. “We discussed all this before my trip. Our agents in London and Paris have been alerted to the situation. They are merely awaiting our telegraphed and coded instructions. In Cape Town I spoke with our man there; he will start the ball rolling when I tell him to. London and Paris will act when word from Cape Town comes through.”

“And here in Kimberley?” Beit asked.

Rhodes managed to make his face inscrutable, although it was an effort. “In Kimberley we hope to do the best we can; possibly even better than elsewhere. The big blocks of stock—the blocks the Barnatos don’t own personally—will have to come from London and Paris, obviously, from the large investors. This does not mean, of course, that we can afford to fail to pick up every last share we can get anywhere. And I mean anywhere!” He leaned forward, dropping his voice for emphasis. “What we cannot afford to do—and I cannot stress this too highly!—is to be cheap. To try to get control and save money at the same time! We must bid the shares to a point where any stockholder who does not sell would have to be considered foolhardy.”

Rudd frowned. He removed his cigar from his mouth as if to be sure no one could claim not to have understood his words. “I know that was the original scheme,” he said, “but what I meant was, do you have any further plans? New plans?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Rudd said, as if merely asking for logic, “that as long as Barnato holds on to fifty-one per cent of the shares, he can even sell whatever number he has over that amount and make a fortune. And still retain control of the company. We will have spent that fortune, and while I’m sure investment in Kimberley Mines will prove to be quite profitable, it won’t have gotten us any further ahead in our principal aim of getting control.”

Rhodes smiled faintly. “Don’t worry about that end of the matter, Charles. Let that problem remain with me.”

Rudd’s frown increased. “D’you think you can get Barnato to sell more than fifty per cent? I mean, I know there are many shares in the market, but certainly Barnato still retains a majority.”

Rhodes’ smile remained fixed, a sly smile. “I said leave it to me.” Rudd did not look satisfied, but fell silent. Rhodes looked around, awaiting any further questions. There were none. “All right, gentlemen,” he said. “I cabled London from Cape Town saying that I had arrived at the Cape and I gave tomorrow as my probable time of arrival here in Kimberley. I asked that the Rothschild credits be issued through their London and Paris branches the day after tomorrow. That will be a Friday. I therefore suggest we start our little adventure as soon as the Exchange opens in Cape Town on Monday morning. This is several hours later than London time, I realize, but I wish the first purchases to appear to just be some local speculation and nothing more; the confusion will be that much greater when London and Paris pick up that speculation and start the real bidding. It should cause some comment on the floors of the exchanges.” He smiled broadly at this vast understatement, and came to his feet. “Gentlemen, I’ve had a long and arduous journey. If you will excuse me…”

It was just after lunch the following Monday, and Barney Barnato was staring at a piece of paper on which he had just finished decoding an urgent telegraph from his brother Harry, in London, forwarded through the Cape Town telegraph office and sent in their company code. In translation the message read:

“What did you do question mark run into a solid reef of diamonds question mark why no notice question mark Kimberley Mines opened at seventy-five comma twenty pounds per share higher than Fridays closing on London Exchange comma fifteen pounds higher on Paris Bourse period still rising period what is happening question mark end of message”

Barney reached over for the whistle blower that was connected with another office. He blew into it and then brought the tube to his ear. From the other office one of his assistants answered.

“Yes, Barney?”

“Code a telegraph to Harry in London and send it at once. Say, ‘Don’t sell a share period I will handle everything this end period end of message.’”

“Right, Barney.”

“And I’m going over to the Exchange. I shouldn’t be too long.”

“Right, Barney.”

Barney put down the tube and stared at the message a moment before coming to his feet and starting from their new offices toward the Kimberley Stock Exchange in the St. James Hall. As he walked along, he did a lot of thinking. Somebody was making a plunge for the Kimberley Mine stocks, and spending a lot of money to do it. It could, of course, be any major investment firm in the world, acting on the behalf of a client with a lot of surplus cash, someone interested in becoming a factor in the diamond business without going through all the years of hard work he had put in, but he didn’t think so. Few investment bankers got to be where they were by advising clients to bid thirty to fifty per cent over the market value of stocks, even stocks as solid as Kimberley Mines. No, he was sure it had to be Rhodes and the De Beers group who were behind the plunge; they had never stopped trying to get control of first Barnato Mining, then Barnato-Central, and now Kimberley Mines, one way or another. Although what they hoped to gain with this particular move was hard to see, since the control of the company was firmly in the hands of the Barnato family. Actually, beyond the shares needed to control fifty-one per cent of the company, there were twenty thousand shares available to sell, and if someone wanted to add three quarters of a million pounds to the Barnato coffers, he saw no reason not to accept it.

There was a sudden pause in the noisy clamor as he walked into the Exchange and was recognized. Someone called out.

“Barney Barnato! Did you hear what’s happening to Kimberley Mines? What’s going on?”

“I heard and I have no idea what’s going on.”

There were looks of general disbelief on almost every face.

“Tell us this: are you buying or selling?”

Barney didn’t hesitate. It wouldn’t take long to find out who or what was behind the plunge. “Selling!”

“How many shares?”

“Twenty thousand!”

Men stared. Most of the men in the room who held any shares at all in Kimberley Mines considered themselves lucky if they held as many as one hundred. Twenty thousand at the price that had been reached represented a fortune!

“Twenty thousand shares at what price? Market?” It was a calm voice, yet one which managed to make itself heard over the tumult of the Exchange. Barney looked around, a bit surprised not to see anyone of the De Beers group present, and then looked at the man who had asked the question. He was a very tall, very thin man with an extraordinarily pale face, topped by a thatch of pitch-black hair and thick black full eyebrows. The man was watching him quietly.

“What is the market?” Barney asked.

“Seventy-eight,” the stranger said.

“I’ll sell at one hundred even,” Barney said, and turned to walk out.

“Sold,” the stranger said.

Barney stopped short, turning around, studying the man. He was sure he had never seen him before in Kimberley or anywhere else. He suddenly wondered if he could have made a mistake by selling, but he didn’t see how he could have. Maybe it wasn’t De Beers; maybe it was some big company interested in getting into diamonds and willing to represent a minority position in Kimberley Mines. Still, he had made a deal and in the diamond business a deal was just as binding whether verbal or signed in blood. Barney shrugged and looked at the man.

“Do you know where my offices are?”

“I’ll find them,” the man said confidently.

“Do that,” Barney said evenly. “And bring a certified check with you.”

“Will a check on the Rothschild bank branch in Paris do?”

“If I continue to hold the shares until the check clears.”

“Of course,” the stranger said, as if any other procedure would have been unthinkable.

Barney looked at him a moment more, then turned in the silence that had fallen, walking out. Behind him he could hear voices immediately raised as people began discussing the enormous transaction they had just witnessed. Barney smiled; he supposed he had added one more story to the legend of Barney Barnato, and he knew Fay would enjoy hearing of it that evening. Still, whoever the stranger was, whoever he represented, he had put almost an additional million pounds sterling into the exchequer of Kimberley Mines over and above the fair market value of the shares, and all without the Barnato family losing control of the company.

He smiled, thinking of the telegraph he would be sending Harry as soon as he got back to the office. This would call for an extra dividend, to be declared at the next board meeting—

And then he suddenly stopped short in the road, his smile disappearing completely. He frowned at a sudden thought and turned, walking rapidly in the direction of the Big Hole.

He came to the Kimberley Mines Company main sorting yard and walked between the piles of blue ground awaiting the heavy mechanical steam-driven crushers, to the house that had been built to serve as Solly Loeb’s office as well as his home. Solly was in discussion with one of the digger foremen when Barney entered; he completed his instructions quickly, waited until the man had left, and turned to Barney.

“Well, hello, stranger,” he said with a smile. “What brings you here? Did you get lost?” He gestured toward a cabinet. “Care for a drink?”

“No,” Barney said shortly, and got right down to business. “Solly, d’you happen to know a bloke, white-faced like he fell in some chalk, and with black hair, black as a Kaffir’s heel, and eyebrows as bushy as a scared cat’s tail? Almost as tall as Armando and skinny as a disselboom?”

Solly looked surprised. “As a matter of fact, I met a man like that just last night.”

“An’ at th’ Kimberley Club, I’ll bet a quid to a penny’orth o’ shit!”

Solly was puzzled by his uncle’s anger. “Yes, I met him at the club. How did you know?”

“Because I’m smart!” Barney said bitterly. “I’m too bleedin’ smart fer me own good! A man as smart as me should be locked away! And what did this chalk-faced cove want? As if I couldn’t answer that ’un with me bleedin’ eyes closed!”

Solly swallowed. When Barney Barnato fell into Cockney, then Barney Barnato was in a bad mood, and when Barney Barnato was in a bad mood it was no time to temporize or to delay in giving him answers to his questions, and quickly.

“He wanted to buy my shares in Kimberley Mines. He offered me seventy-five pounds a share. That’s twenty pounds over the market! I figured he thought he had a fish on the line, that someone had fed him a story about the mine and that the shares would go sky-high. But I knew there wasn’t anything new at the mine to make the stock go anywhere near that high, so—what the devil!—I sold. Why not?” Solly said, wondering why he was being treated as if he’d done something wrong, or something stupid. “Hell, I can buy them back at fifty or fifty-five at the most, as soon as I can get into town and to the Exchange!”

“Can y’?” Barney asked quietly, but his voice was on the verge of trembling. “The last block I heard o’ sold fer one hundred bleedin’ quid a share!”

Solly’s eyes widened. “What! Why would they sell for that? I know what comes out of the mine; I take it out!” He nodded as comprehension came to him. “I see. You mean I sold too cheap—”

“No, I don’t mean y’sold too bleedin’ cheap!” Barney said bitingly. “I mean, why did y’sell at all? Didn’t y’stop to think y’might be sellin’ control o’ the whole bleedin’ company?”

Solly stared. “How could I have anything to do with the control of the company? I know you’ve got twenty thousand shares above and beyond control, so how could my five thousand shares have anything to do with anything?”

Barney sighed. When he spoke his Cockney accent was gone, as was his anger, replaced with profound disgust with himself.

“What you didn’t know was that your Uncle Barney is a horse’s arse. That block that sold for one hundred pounds each was for my twenty thousand.” He shrugged. “Well! So old horse-faced Rhodes finally managed to buy me out!” There was almost a touch of admiration in his voice. “Still, whether he knows it or not, there have been a few new laws passed since he went away to England, and they aren’t going to do him all the good he thinks.”

“What do you mean?” Solly asked, puzzled.

“Rhodes’ll find out,” Barney said enigmatically, and turned to leave. He turned back. “You’d better come over to the hotel this evening. This raid will be over by sundown, and Rhodes’ll have the Kimberley Mines to add to De Beers. He’ll undoubtedly want a meeting and if he doesn’t, I will. I figure it might be good instruction for you to sit in on it.”

“I’ll be there,” Solly promised, and watched his uncle walk back through the piles of blue ground scattered throughout the yard. The man’s pace was slower, more hesitant than Solly could ever remember; normally Barney Barnato seemed to trot rather than merely walk. Solly made a calculation as he watched his uncle. Barney Barnato had been in Africa just twelve years; that made him just thirty years old. And whatever Rhodes’ successful raid on the Kimberley Mines Company had done to the Barnato pride, it would make Barney the richest man in all Africa. To Solly Loeb that was ample compensation for anything; one couldn’t eat pride, or drink it, nor did pride buy women or fine clothes. After all, money was what it was all about, wasn’t it? Money and power? Certainly not pride …

The meeting was held in the home of Dr. Leander Starr Jameson as being the most neutral of places on which both of the major antagonists could agree, especially since Dr. Jameson had absented himself for the night. They sat around a table; Alfred Beit and Rhodes on one side, Barney and Solly on the other. A full bottle of whiskey and a glass was before each man, while a sideboard on one side of the room contained extra full bottles should they be required. For the first time since he had begun the long fight for total control of the diamond industry, Cecil Rhodes felt a small touch of pity for Barney Barnato; he knew how he would have felt had Barnato succeeded in taking control of the De Beers mining properties—which Rhodes was convinced would eventually have happened had he not managed the huge loan from the Rothschilds and acted first. Besides, it was essential to Rhodes’ plans to work with Barnato. Contrary to Barney’s opinion, Rhodes was well aware of the laws that had been passed in his absence, and the power they still gave Barnato despite his having lost control of Kimberley Mines.

Rhodes waited until everyone had opened his whiskey bottle and poured himself a drink, and then opened the meeting.

“I suggest, to begin with,” he said quietly, “that we forget the past. Let us start with the situation that exists today. As I am sure you all know, I did not make every effort to combine all the diamond mining interests for any reason of personal gain. I have more than enough money to allow me to live in any style of comfort I might wish for the rest of my days. Nor did I do it for what many would think of as power. I did it for England.”

There was nothing melodramatic in the manner in which he spoke, and Barney, listening quietly, knew that the man was sincere. Mistaken, Barney believed, but obviously sincere.

“As you know,” Rhodes went on, “I have believed for a long time that only when Great Britain rules Africa will there be total peace and prosperity here for all inhabitants, be they natives, Boers, or English. I have always wished to contribute my share toward this goal, a goal I sincerely and wholeheartedly believe essential for the well-being of all. To do so, however, requires money, huge sums of money, and the best means of obtaining such vast sums, as I have always seen it, is through the exploitation of the wealth this great continent contains; through its diamonds or whatever other mineral wealth may be found beneath its soil. To this end I have tried for years, and have finally succeeded, in getting control of the Kimberley properties to add to the other mining properties, since I have felt it vital there be an end to the—you will pardon me, but I must use the word—the anarchy that previously prevailed in the mining and the sale of diamonds. May I repeat, there is nothing personal in this. I will freely admit that I have had differences in the past with Mr. Barnato”—he smiled briefly—“you will note I said Mr. Barnato, not Barnato—as I am sure he will admit he has had with me—but I truly believe the time for all such animosities has come to an end. There is too much at stake.”

He paused, waiting for Barney to speak. Barney had been staring into his whiskey glass as he listened; now he looked up.

“Exactly what do you want, Mr. Rhodes?”

“I want the articles of association of the new company that is to be formed to allow it to do anything it wishes,” Rhodes said plainly. He held up his hand. “I am fully aware of the new laws that have been passed recently, and I know that I would need to control the votes of three quarters of the shares in order to make those articles as I wish to make them. I am also aware, Mr. Barnato, that you control more than enough shares to prevent me from so doing. It is my intention—and I am exercising it now—to ask you to vote your shares in such manner as to allow me to write the articles as I wish.”

He looked at Barney. Barney took a drink of whiskey and then removed his pince-nez, polished them carefully, and returned them to his nose. He looked at Rhodes with no expression at all on his face.

“Well,” he said at last, “you’re honest, Mr. Rhodes, I have to give you that, regardless. But I’d still like to know what you mean when you say, ‘whatever they wish.’ That’s a bit wide for me. A bit loose. A man could fall a long way through those chairs, it seems to me. Could you please explain?”

“Certainly,” Rhodes said, and was pleased that at least so far it appeared that Barnato intended to maintain the meeting on a gentlemanly level. Rhodes had not been so sure of it when he had first suggested the meeting. “What I mean, Mr. Barnato, is that I want the articles of association to quite clearly permit the company to do what it wants, to go far beyond the search for and the distribution of diamonds. I want the articles to permit the new company to look for minerals anywhere it wishes, in the north or anywhere else. I want it to be able to occupy territory, if need be; to build and maintain a railway from Cape Town to Cairo, if required. In short, I want the company to be able to do anything and everything it wishes to further the ambition of bringing Africa under British rule!”

“And make money, too, I hope,” Barney said quietly.

“Obviously the company would have to make money, Mr. Barnato. I believe my reputation in this regard does not require investigation. And I might point out,” Rhodes added, quite as if Barney might have forgotten, “that you will be the largest individual stockholder in the new company.”

“I’m quite aware of it,” Barney said. He thought a moment and looked up. “And exactly what are you offering me—other than my dividends—to have me vote my shares as you wish, Mr. Rhodes?”

Rhodes appeared to be considering the answer to this question very carefully. Actually, he had known the question would be the first really important one he faced in the meeting, and had given careful consideration to the concessions he knew he would have to make, for if Barnato voted his shares against him, the entire purpose of fighting for Kimberley would have been lost.

“Well,” he said slowly, “you’d become a director of the new company, of course.”

Barney smiled and shook his head.

“I’ll be frank and tell you I don’t have any great objections to the articles as you’ve outlined them,” he said, “as long as they don’t eat up the profits, and I believe they can be written in such a manner as to prevent this. But I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Rhodes. I wasn’t happy to lose control of Kimberley, but I’m in a strong bargaining position now, and you know it and I know it and you know I know it. I’d be a fool not to take advantage of it. Just being a director of a company means nothing. Regardless of the number of shares I hold, your smart friends could—and would—have me out on the street in no time. I’d want to be a life governor with no problem of reelection.”

Rhodes was looking at him, his hooded eyes steady on Barney’s face.

“I’m sure that would be no problem, Mr. Barnato. What else?”

“Bamato Brothers would be given half the trade in the selling of the company’s stones.”

There was a long silence. Rhodes began to confer with Alfred Beit in whispers at the table and then decided this was not private enough. The two men repaired to the far side of the room and conversed with their faces almost next to each other. Barney took advantage of the break to finish his drink and refill his glass. He glanced at his nephew at his side; Solly’s eyes were intent upon Rhodes across the room. Solly had been listening to the discussion with relief that Barney had not made a fool of himself, and a fool—by association—of Solly, before a man as educated, as refined, as—well, as all-around admirable as Cecil Rhodes. Solly just hoped the air of good will maintained itself to the end of the meeting. In fact, now that Solly had a chance to think about it, maybe it was just as well that Barney had lost control of Kimberley Mines. Maybe it was even better for himself, Solly Loeb. Now they—he—would be associated with Cecil John Rhodes, and who would ask for better than that? Barney should really thank him for having sold his miserable five thousand shares—shares that should have been many more had Barney not been so tightfisted, so unrewarding for work faithfully and well done—to the pasty-faced representative of De Beers, rather than having blamed him. But that’s the way the world was—unappreciative! Or at least that’s the way his uncle was; Solly was sure that Cecil Rhodes would never be like that—

His thoughts were interrupted; Rhodes and Beit had finished their conference and had returned to the table, still murmuring between them. Rhodes nodded his head at some last word of Beit’s and then turned to Barney.

“We would be in agreement that one half the trade in the sale of the stones be carried on by Barnato Brothers in London,” he said, “on one condition. Prices will be set by the company, not by Barnato Brothers, and Barnato Brothers must abide by those prices. Is that agreed?”

Barney nodded. “I’ll agree to that.”

“Is there anything else?”

Barney smiled. “Just one thing.” For a moment his old, always latent resentment at Rhodes’ past treatment of him seemed to gleam in his spectacled eyes; now, when people insulted Jews, they insulted his beloved Fay as well. As if he could feel the look trying to escape his eyes, he transferred his glance to his whiskey glass, swirling the glass idly as he searched for and found the words he wanted. Then he looked up innocently. “It isn’t important,” he said. His tone indicated it might very well be extremely important, might even disrupt the entire negotiations. “But I want to become a member of the Kimberley Club.”

Rhodes did not even hesitate. “I was going to suggest it,” he said at once. The two men looked each other in the eye a moment, and then both smiled with a bit of embarrassment. “I wasn’t going to suggest anything of the sort,” Rhodes confessed ruefully, “but I obviously will, now.”

“You mean, you have no choice?”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to, before. But now I think I want to,” Rhodes said, and held his hand across the table.

Barney took the offered hand, feeling the softness of it, feeling almost sorry for a man whose hand was that soft while at the same time being a man as hard, as ruthless, as Cecil John Rhodes. As well as being a man as dedicated to an ideal as Cecil Rhodes.

“We’ll get along,” Barney said, meaning it. “You have your dreams, and I have mine. You want the world, and I suppose if we can we must give it to you. All I want is money and peace.”

“And I suppose, if we can, we must give you those,” Rhodes said. “Is there anything else?”

Barney smiled. “Yes, one very important feature. Let us now begin to discuss the matter of money. Kimberley Mines will have to be liquidated before any new company can be formed. I wish to be assigned twenty-six per cent of the new shares; these I will pay for at the established rate. But the shares held by myself and my family, in Kimberley Mines, as well as any shares you failed to pick up in the raid from other shareholders, will have to be purchased by the new company. Let us now begin to discuss the price you will have to pay for those shares. I realize the prices you offered today are not a realistic expectation, so may I suggest a figure of sixty pounds per share?”

Rhodes smiled. “Before the raid began, the price at the closing of the Exchange on Friday last, was a bit under fifty pounds. May I suggest that even at that price, the stock was higher than the output of the Kimberley Mines warranted. May I therefore suggest a price per share of forty-five pounds?”

“Ah!” Barney said, enjoying himself, “but that was based on prices for diamonds that you yourself said were too low. Considering that you will now be able to raise those prices considerably, the output of the Kimberley Mine will be worth far more than at present. Therefore I believe the price of sixty pounds to be eminently fair …”

Everyone filled his whiskey glass and prepared for the longest and hardest part of the evening’s negotiations.

Fay stared at Barney, appalled. “You lost the company? When?”

The two were in bed after the almost all-night session Barney had spent with Rhodes; Fay had known he was tied up in a business meeting, but had not been told as of that moment what that meeting had involved. Barney, despite the hour, was not in the least sleepy; he was still too exhilarated by the bargaining session and the deal he had finally consummated.

“Today,” he said equably.

“You lost the company in one day? In one day? How?”

Barney smiled. He was slowly becoming accustomed to the fact that he would not have to go into the office at any particular hour anymore; that Solly Loeb had only to transfer the records and the registry books to the De Beers people and he, too, would be free. The agreement the night before had promised continued employment to all of the Kimberley staff of diggers and sorters who wished to stay, with the exception of Barney and Solly. He looked at Fay affectionately.

“You’re beginning to sound like my mother. How Jewish can you get in a few years?” He stopped smiling, reaching out to place a hand on one of Fay’s full breasts, kneading it gently as he spoke. “Rhodes made a raid on our company stock today—or yesterday, I suppose you’d call it. Solly was sure I still retained control without his five thousand shares, so he sold them on Sunday night. I thought Solly wouldn’t even know about the raid, since he would be at the yard, so I sold the shares I had above control for an absurdly high price as soon as I heard of it. The result: Rhodes got control. It’s that simple.”

Fay frowned, her mind divided between the fact that Kimberley Mines was no longer theirs and the languorous feeling that was beginning to suffuse her limbs as Barney kneaded her nipple.

“But what does it mean?”

“It means,” Barney said, feeling the nipple beginning to get hard under his manipulation, “that De Beers will issue a check to cover the shares he didn’t pick up in the raid—ninety-seven thousand five hundred shares. At fifty-five pounds a share.”

Fay gasped. “That’s an awful lot of money!”

Barney nodded. “Yes, it’s a lot of money. It’ll be the largest transaction in history, I think. Over five and a third million pounds. And most of it ours.”

Fay tried to comprehend the size of a sum that great. “But what will you do?”

Barney moved closer to her, moving his hand from her breast to run it down her belly, raising her nightgown, touching her, feeling himself getting more and more excited, as if the excitement of the bargaining session was transferring itself somehow to their conjugal bed. “Be with you,” he murmured, his mind far from what he was saying. “Maybe go to England and meet the family. Take it easy. When we get back, maybe look into this talk of gold in the Transvaal…”

Fay’s mind came back from far away to realize what they were doing. “Barney!” she said, catching her breath. “Wait! I’m not prepared…”

“You’re as prepared as you need be,” he said. “Tonight we’re going to make those children you’ve always wanted.”

“Oh, Barney!” she said, and moved to him, as happy as she was excited.