“Payper! Special! Ultimatium by Krooger! Declaration of war!” Soames bought the paper. There it was in the stop press⁠—! His first thought was: “The Boers are committing suicide.” His second: “Is there anything still I ought to sell?” If so he had missed the chance⁠—there would certainly be a slump in the city tomorrow. He swallowed this thought with a nod of defiance. That ultimatum was insolent⁠—sooner than let it pass he was prepared to lose money. They wanted a lesson, and they would get it; but it would take three months at least to bring them to heel. There weren’t the troops out there; always behind time, the Government! Confound those newspaper rats! What was the use of waking everybody up? Breakfast tomorrow was quite soon enough. And he thought with alarm of his father. They would cry it down Park Lane. Hailing a hansom, he got in and told the man to drive there.

James and Emily had just gone up to bed, and after communicating the news to Warmson, Soames prepared to follow. He paused by afterthought to say:

“What do you think of it, Warmson?”