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diff --git a/44718-0.txt b/44718-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f339a6a --- /dev/null +++ b/44718-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6876 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44718 *** + + THE + EXILES OF FALOO + + BY + BARRY PAIN + AUTHOR OF “THE GIFTED FAMILY” + + SECOND EDITION + + METHUEN & CO. + 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. + LONDON + + + + + _First Published ... March 10th 1910 + Second Edition ... March 1910_ + + + + +THE EXILES OF FALOO + +CHAPTER I + + +Overhead a blue sky without a cloud; in the distance the sound of +the surf--a muffled bass which broke on the tink of the bell at the +French Mission or the scream of the parrot on the broad verandah of the +Exiles’ Club. + +On the lawn in front of the verandah two natives had just finished +their reluctant work with the mower. They wore loin-cloths of tappa and +nothing else. The head-gardener wore a loin-cloth of tappa and a white +evening-dress waistcoat, the latter being the gift of Dr Soames Pryce. +The waistcoat was splendid but unclean. The head-gardener had been +inspecting the work of the others from a recumbent position. All three +passed away now along the grass path under the laden orange trees. Two +gorgeous butterflies chased one another over the lawn in the sunshine. + +The plaited blind in front of the French windows was pushed back +and Sir John Sweetling appeared on the verandah. He was a man of +fifty-five, six feet in height and inclined to corpulence. On the whole +a handsome man, with a short white beard and moustache neatly trimmed, +and fearless blue eyes under shaggy white brows. The nose was perhaps a +trifle nosey. He wore a white silk shirt, white ducks, a brown holland +jacket and a panama of the finest texture. + +Sir John lingered for a moment beside the parrot’s perch. He scratched +the bird’s neck, and said in an affectionate voice, “Poor old Polly.” + +The parrot bent down and got to work with its beak on the perch, much +as if the perch had been a steel and the beak a carving-knife which it +was trying to sharpen. Then it sat up, drew its indecent lids over its +solemn eyes once or twice, and spoke distinctly. + +“You damned thief,” said the parrot. + +It was an observation which had been addressed to Sir John before, and +not only by parrots. + +Sir John shook his head. “Naughty bird,” he said, “naughty bird!” Then +he came down the steps of the verandah on to the lawn. Three lounge +chairs were grouped about a small table, and Sir John took the most +comfortable of the three. On the table were books of a ledger-like +appearance, writing materials, and a bell. Sir John struck the bell +with a fat brown forefinger. + +The head-gardener came out from the orange trees. After all, he was not +only the head-gardener. He smiled ingratiatingly, as if to say that +he took a personal interest in Sir John, and it would be a positive +pleasure to him to do anything for him. From a natural friendliness, +which only broke down under severe stress, all the natives wore this +air of interest in the white man and of readiness to serve them in any +way. As a matter of fact no native, with the solitary exception of King +Smith, ever did anything that he could possibly avoid. The climate is +relaxing, and the cokernut palm supplies many wants. + +Sir John looked at the man doubtfully. “Well, yes, you’ll do,” he said. +“Go and tell Thomas that I want a lime-squash, no sugar, and a double +Hollands in it.” + +The head-gardener repeated the order, with a careworn look beginning to +gather on his handsome, dusky face. The club-house was at least twenty +yards away, and he would have to walk every step of it. He walked very +gracefully and very slowly, a slight wind fluttering the buckle straps +of his waistcoat behind. On the verandah he paused to rest and to tease +the parrot. + +“Get on, you dog,” shouted Sir John. And the head-gardener got on. + +Presently Thomas appeared with the drink. At one time he had been +desk-waiter at the Cabinet Club, London. At the Exiles’ Club, in this +very tiny and remote island, he was a combination of steward and +head-waiter. He wore black trousers and neck-tie and a white jacket. He +was grey-haired, round-faced, and loose-mouthed. + +Sir John let the ice clink musically against the glass. It was almost +the only æsthetic pleasure that he enjoyed. He took a long suck +at a couple of straws and then, as he fumbled for his money, said +plaintively: + +“I say, Thomas, aren’t they coming?” + +“Coming directly, sir. The green lizard won, and they are not racing +again, Mr Bassett having no more ready money with him.” + +“Childish--utterly childish,” said Sir John, irritably. + +“Your change, sir?” + +“It was half-a-crown I gave you.” + +“I took it for a florin,” said Thomas, quite unembarrassed. “My +mistake. Sorry, sir.” + +Down the steps of the verandah towards Sir John came Mr Bassett and Dr +Soames Pryce. Mr Bassett was a very short man. His face was ape-like +and had a fringe beard of sandy grey. He was overshadowed by an immense +Terai felt hat, and was a quaint figure until you got used to him. +He occupied the honorary position of secretary to the Exiles’ Club. +Dr Soames Pryce was a man of medium height and magnificent figure--a +chest deep and broad, small waist and hips, powerful muscles, and no +spare flesh. He was clean-shaven, and his ugly, strong face suggested a +cynical Napoleon. He wore a shirt and trousers of white flannel and a +pith helmet. + +“My lizard won, Sweetling,” he said, as he sank into one of the lounge +chairs. + +“So Thomas has been telling me,” said Sir John, reflectively. “Wish I’d +backed it.” + +“Tell you what, Bassett,” said the doctor, sharply. “You were +grumbling--said you’d never seen your browny run so badly. I’ll back +my green one against him once more for another sovereign--run it off +to-morrow morning.” + +“Can’t,” said Bassett. “Killed mine--always kill losers.” His manner +was jerky and nervous. He was already turning over the volumes on the +table. “We have business of some importance to the club before us this +morning--the election of--” + +He stopped short as a native waiter approached with a tray. The doctor +apparently shared the taste of Sir John in morning beverages; Mr +Bassett drank iced barley-water with a slice of lemon in it. + +“Yes, yes,” said Sir John as the waiter retired. “Mr Bassett is right; +business of very serious importance. We must be getting on. I will ask +Mr Bassett to read the minutes of the last meeting.” + +Mr Bassett jerked rapidly through the data of the meeting and the names +of the committee-men who attended. In addition to the names of those +now present the name of the Rev. Cyril Mast was read. + +Dr Soames Pryce took his mouth away from a drinking-straw to observe, +“Mast not coming to-day?” + +“I shall have something to say presently as to that,” said Sir John. + +“Myself also,” said Mr Bassett, and went on with the minutes in a quick +staccato. + +There were certain financial matters “examined and found correct.” +There was a history of two backed bills; in one case the secretary +would write and express regrets; in the other the committee had found +that the price charged for giant asparagus was not unreasonable. + +Sir John took the formal vote that he should sign the minutes as +correct, and proceeded to routine business. Financial questions were +considered with care, and were a little complicated by the use of more +than one currency. The club was in a very satisfactory position. It had +only thirty-two members, but the subscription was high and the expenses +were small. + +At last came the important business. Sir John opened the candidates’ +book and spoke with a voice of deliberate impartiality: + +“Gentlemen, we have a candidate up for election. He is a native of this +island, known to us all, I think, as King Smith. I see that he is +described here as John Smith, trader and chief of Faloo. He is proposed +by Mr Page and seconded by the Rev. Cyril Mast. He is supported by +Mr Bassett, Mr Mandelbaum, Mr Duncombe, Mr Clarence Mills, and Lord +Charles Baringstoke--under ordinary circumstances, I should say a +strong list. Before proceeding to discussion I will ask our secretary +to read the letters of the proposer and the seconder.” + +The letters were unusually long and apologetic, but this was the first +time that a native had been proposed for membership of the Exiles’ Club. + +Mr Page, in his letter, pointed out that this was no ordinary native. +He was of the blood royal, and was recognised by all the natives as +chief or King of Faloo. It was to be remembered that certainly in +the old days and in a neighbouring group of the islands white men +had not thought it beneath their dignity to take positions--and even +subordinate positions--at the court of native kings and queens. + +Dr Soames Pryce gave a short contemptuous laugh; Mr Bassett glared at +him out of mean eyes and continued the letter. + +Mr Page pointed out further that Smith had shown a readiness to absorb +European ideas which was without parallel in the case of a native. His +business, in which a syndicate of members of the club were financially +interested, was solid and progressive. He had shown enterprise +and talent for organisation. He spoke French well and English to +perfection. He had been of great assistance to the white men on the +island. “And of his wide and generous hospitality most of us have had +pleasant experience.” + +“Good letter,” commented the doctor, briefly. + +The letter of the Rev. Cyril Mast repeated much that Mr Page had said, +but contained some additional items of information. As regards the name +of John Smith, Smith was merely the Anglicised form of its owner’s +native name. + +The doctor’s laugh was perhaps excusable. The native name was of four +syllables, began with “m,” ended with “oo,” and had a “k” in it. +The laugh was repeated when the Rev. Cyril Mast asserted that Smith +had received the name John upon baptism into the Church of England, +performed during boyhood when on a visit to another island. + +“Name,” said the doctor. + +“Order,” said Sir John. “We can discuss the letter afterwards.” + +“I presume,” said Mr Bassett, savagely, “that Dr Pryce does not venture +to question the veracity of a member of the club.” + +“Rot,” said the doctor. + +“Order, order,” said Sir John. “Read on, please, Mr Bassett.” + +He read on. The Rev. Cyril Mast pointed out that King Smith’s attitude +in religious matters was one of the broadest toleration, as exemplified +by the fact that he permitted the French Catholic mission on his +island. He had lessened the superstitious observances of the natives, +had deported the priests, and now held solely in his own person +the important power of “taboo.” In view of labour difficulties and +other difficulties with the natives it was imperatively necessary to +conciliate the possessor of this power. It was hardly too much to say +that their existence depended upon it. It would be necessary to elect +King Smith, “even if he were not the genial, open-handed sportsman whom +we all know him to be.” + +There was a moment’s silence. It was for the President to speak first. +Sir John spoke with ease and fluency. He had addressed many meetings, +and soothed for the time many angry shareholders. + +“Well, gentlemen,” said Sir John, “Mr Smith comes before you under +very good auspices. He is seconded by one member of the committee and +underwritten by another. Among his supporters we have noted the names +of Lord Charles Baringstoke and--er--others. But it must be remarked +that his seconder is not here this morning to speak for him. Why is he +not here?” + +“He was so very drunk last night,” said Dr Soames Pryce. There was +not the least shade of moral accusation in his voice; it was a plain +statement of a cause having a certain effect. + +“Nonsense!” snapped Mr Bassett. + +“I assure you, my diagnosis is correct.” + +“Gentlemen!” said Sir John, in mild protest. Both men apologised to the +President for the interruption. He continued: + +“From whatever cause it arises it is at least unfortunate that Mr Mast +is not here; there are questions that I should have felt it my duty, +unpleasant though it might be, to put to him. However, we will leave +him and consider the candidature of Mr Smith.” + +Here Sir John paused to light a cigar and refresh himself from the +glass before him. + +“Now, gentlemen, I think if I may claim any virtue at all it is +the virtue of foresight. When the circumstances arose which made +it advisable for me to leave England, I had already foreseen those +circumstances and I knew that Faloo was the place. From its want of an +accessible harbour, its small size, and its position out of the usual +line of trading and other vessels, and also perhaps from a pardonable +ignorance, Faloo has been omitted by statesmen and their advisers from +treaties innumerable. It has independence on sufferance. Any European +power that claimed Faloo would be met by a counter-claim from another +power, and at present it is considered too obscure and insignificant +for diplomacy, or for sterner methods of arbitration. Briefly, it is +not worth fighting about. But I know that you will agree with me that +it is just what we require. Life is soft and easy, and the climate is +always summer. Nature has showered her gifts upon this island--gorgeous +flowers and luscious fruits, the graceful and useful palm, the orange +trees in the shade of which we sit.” + +“Pardon the correction,” said Dr Soames Pryce. “The orange trees +were brought by Smith’s grandfather from Tahiti, and they were not +indigenous even there.” + +“Thank you, Dr Pryce. At least I may say that this kindly and prolific +soil has, in the case of the orange trees as in our own case, welcomed +the stranger. The natives are friendly--except in some cases which I +can explain--and though their natural laziness makes it difficult to +find useful and trustworthy servants, we have managed to get along so +far by a temperate firmness on our part. For such hostility as exists +I regret to say that certain members of this club have only themselves +to thank, and I may add in confidence that Mr Mast is one of the worst +offenders. This--er--philandering with the wives and daughters of +natives is a thing that must definitely be stopped or there will be +awful trouble.” + +Sir John paused for another sip, and surveyed his companions. Dr Soames +Pryce looked straight down his nose; Mr Bassett toyed innocently with a +pen-holder. + +“Well, gentlemen, to make a long story short, insignificant little +Faloo precisely suits me. Personally, I ask nothing better than that I +may live the rest of my life here, enjoying--if you find some worthier +President--” + +“No, no,” said the other two men. + +“Well, enjoying at least my membership of the Exiles’ Club. Now I +do not want to break a tacit understanding by referring to the past +history of any of us. Some may have made mistakes, or yielded to some +unfortunate impulse; some--my own is a case in point--may be the +victims of conspiracy on the one part and misunderstanding on another. +But in any case, if ever we had to leave Faloo, where could we go? I +know of no place from which we should not promptly be sent back to our +native land, to be tried by some clumsy tribunal that on half the facts +of the case judges a man’s isolated acts apart from his motives and his +general character and his mode of life.” + +“Hear, hear,” said Mr Bassett. + +“Now comes my point. Our safety lies in the obscurity and +insignificance of Faloo. Make it of importance--get it talked +about--and we are lost. Now Smith’s great idea is to boom Faloo, to +extend his own trade indefinitely, and he even has dreams of finally +getting its independence formally acknowledged. This last he will +probably never do, because the island would be annexed, but if he did, +part of the price of independence would be an extradition treaty. He +has been described as enterprising, and the description is true. He +even now has a plan for blasting the reef and throwing open the harbour +for his own trading ships. He speaks often of the loss and the danger +occasioned by loading and unloading by canoes a vessel lying outside +the reef. Well, there is only room for a canoe or a small boat to +get through the reef now, and there will never be any more room, so +long as we have the whip-hand of Mr Smith. His interests and ours are +diametrically opposed. How can we admit such a man to terms of perfect +equality as would be implied by membership of this club? Why should he +ask it except as a means to push his schemes with injudicious members, +lured by the prospect of a money advantage? What would it profit us, +gentlemen, if we gained all the money in the world and lost--er--this +quiet retreat from the malicious people who are anxious to interfere +with us? Believe me, he has no love for the white man. If he permits +the French Mission it is because the French Mission is a regular and +lucrative customer and the priests help to educate him. He is genial +and hospitable; but we also are regular and lucrative customers and +much more than that. He has been of service to us; two or three times +he has sent off, with almost needless brutality, low-class English +and Americans, without a five-pound note to call their own, who have +attempted to establish themselves here. He serves us, because we do not +want that type. But he serves himself too, for they are no use to him +either. I have known Smith longer than any white man on this island, +and I know that extension of trade and the making of money is his first +aim. He’d like a regular trading fleet instead of the ramshackle tramps +he owns at present. When I came here he lived in a leaf-thatched shanty +and had hardly anything. See how far he has got on already; he means to +go twenty times as far as that. And when he’s got the money he’s on to +something else--he doesn’t talk about it, and I don’t know much about +it, but I do know that it will be something with King Smith in it +and ourselves outside. Now at present we’ve got the whip-hand of that +gentleman, and we’ve got to keep it. We’ve got the whip-hand, because +the money on which his business is run is our money and under our own +control. I have put seven hundred golden sovereigns into it, Dr Pryce +has two hundred, Mr Bassett two hundred, and other members have smaller +sums, making fifteen hundred in all. From the very beginning I took the +line that (in the absence of ordinary legal safeguards) the borrower +must trust the lender and the lender must trust nobody. We see such +books as he keeps; we practically control the bank. We know what he’s +doing. We can say ‘go on’ and we can say ‘stop.’ Smith controls the +natives? He does. He can enforce the ‘taboo’? He can. And what on earth +does it matter so long as we control Smith? It’s money that talks. And +that reminds me that I’ve been doing a lot of talking myself, though +I’ve still got one more point to raise. You don’t mind?” + +“I want to hear everything you’ve got against Smith; it’ll help me to +show the other side,” said Mr Bassett. + +“My own mind is still open,” said Dr Soames Pryce. “Let me hear you +both by all means. At present it doesn’t seem to me to matter a curse +whether we elect him or not. But might I suggest an interlude?” + +“Certainly,” said Sir John. “The same idea had just occurred to me.” He +struck the bell repeatedly, until Thomas appeared on the verandah. A +sign gave the order, and fresh drinks were brought out. + +“Now for my last point,” said Sir John. “England has not treated me +well, and it would probably treat me worse if it could get me, but I +can never forget that I am an Englishman. We white men here”--his voice +vibrated--“are the representatives of the conquering races.” + +Dr Soames Pryce concealed a smile. + +“We have a certain amount of prestige among the natives, and we cannot +give away prestige and keep it. Our action in electing Mr Smith would +be read by the natives as a concession made from fear. He would be +exalted, and we should be debased. A rule of the club prohibits the +introduction of any native as a guest; I have not the least doubt that +the election of a native would also have been prohibited, had it ever +been supposed that such an event was possible. Let us treat Mr Smith +with kindness and civility. He likes to exercise hospitality, and I +sometimes look in at his place and take a drink with him. But we must +not elect him as an equal. If you two gentlemen are divided in your +opinions my casting vote goes against Mr Smith.” + +Sir John leaned back in his chair, removed his hat and mopped his bald +head with his handkerchief. He was convinced that the election of Smith +would be disastrous, and he had done his best to prevent it. Bassett, +he knew, would support Smith, but Sir John counted on opposition from +the doctor. + +“Well, now, Mr Bassett,” said Sir John. + +But Mr Bassett suddenly adopted a conciliatory and even flattering +attitude towards Dr Soames Pryce. + +“Excuse me,” he said. “Better take things in their order of importance. +Dr Pryce--most popular and representative--better hear him first.” + +“My mind’s still open,” said Dr Pryce. “Sir John’s been talking rather +as if the Exiles’ Club were the Athenæum and King Smith were a doubtful +archdeacon. We aren’t the Athenæum. We represent the dead-beat section +of the conquering races. As we have referred to the past I may mention +that we comprise men who have had to skip and can’t go back.” + +“A little too strongly put,” said Sir John. + +“I’m only saying what you’ve been thinking,” said Dr Pryce. “Poor old +Thomas messed his accounts at the Cabinet Club and he had to skip, and +it’s supposed to be the same all the way up through the members. All we +ask about a white candidate is how much he brought with him or can have +sent out to him. If he can afford it he’s a member. Our rules are easy, +but we don’t change members’ cheques, and it’s a recognised principle +with us that we believe in the money we see and in no other money. If +the cash isn’t on the table there’s no bet. That being so, ought we to +put on side? Can we carry it?” + +“Certainly not. Hear hear!” said Mr Bassett with enthusiasm. + +“Sir John says we’ve got the whip-hand of King Smith now. True. So we +have. So we shall still have if he’s made a member. Sir John thinks +that if Smith opens the harbour and widens the trade the island will +be grabbed and we shall be grabbed too. I should say rats!” + +“Really?” said Sir John, frigidly. + +“I mean, with all respect, that there’s not enough in Faloo to make any +power restless in its sleep--except ourselves, and it is not likely +to be known that we are here. As for Smith himself, he’s a clever +blackguard, but I doubt if he’s as deep as our President thinks. There +are good streaks about him. The natives get none of the filth that +he brews in the still at the back of his office--that’s traded away +under the rose to other islands. He’s got an open hand, and keeps +good whisky, and what persuaded our reverend friend Mast to get tight +on curaçoa last night beats me altogether. What I don’t like is that +while his business is financed by some of us he’s lending money out of +his share of the profits to others. Three of the men who underwrote +him have got an advance on their remittances from him--Charley +Baringstoke’s one of them. That might make awkwardness. He’s playing it +all out for John Smith too, as our President says. Well, I’m playing it +for Dr Pryce. If Bassett isn’t playing it for a man whose name begins +with B I’m wrong. Fire in, Bassett. As I say, my mind’s still open.” + +Mr Bassett spoke briefly and nervously, with a sickly, ingratiating +smile, fingering at times that uncomely fringe of beard. He was sure +that Sir John had presented the arguments on his side of the question +with great skill and power. But he must confess that he thought the +greater part of those arguments had already been fully answered in a +few sentences by Dr Pryce. As for the absence of the Rev. Cyril Mast, +that was really due to delicacy and good feeling; he had felt that the +discussion of a candidate whom he had seconded could be more free and +open in the seconder’s absence. That being so, Mast might possibly have +felt free to indulge last night in the--er--lapse which Dr Pryce had +described. Certainly, the money-lending to which Dr Pryce had objected +was a serious point. But he believed that Mr Smith had only given way +from good-nature, only in a few cases, and only for small sums. He +would guarantee that an expression of opinion would be enough to stop +it. There was one matter with which Dr Pryce had not dealt, and that +was the native question. Here Mr Bassett became very impressive. + +“It’s not foreign powers and extradition treaties we’ve got to fear. If +John Smith wants to blast the reef, and can give us twenty per cent. +for our money instead of ten, let him do it, and I’ve got more money +waiting for him. But we’ve got to fear the natives of this island here +and now.” + +“I suppose it’s necessary for you to be in a funk of something,” said +Mr Soames Pryce. + +“Order,” said Sir John. “Really, that’s rather an insulting remark.” + +“Sorry. I withdraw it,” said Pryce, placidly. + +“Sir John himself said that unless this--er--interference with the +native women were stopped there would be awful trouble. Mr Mast’s name +has been mentioned. Two nights ago, as he was coming home from Smith’s, +a spear went too near him to be pleasant. Doesn’t that mean something +to fear? Let me ask Dr Pryce if he were managing an insurance office if +he would accept Mast’s life?” + +“If I were the physician he’d never get as far as the manager,” said +the doctor, grimly. + +“Mast’s is not the only case. Mr Mandelbaum has had stones thrown +at him. Lord Charles Baringstoke has been threatened. Natives have +been found skulking round the club-house at night. Sir John says that +this--er--philandering must be stopped absolutely. But nature is +stronger than Sir John; the women are said to be attractive, and young +men won’t live ascetic lives. Even if it could be stopped now, much +of the harm is done already. The election of Mr Smith would bring the +natives round again, and in the meantime something could be done to +regularise the situation--some form of marriage which would satisfy +native susceptibilities without imposing too onerous an obligation upon +us. The help of Mr Smith in a matter of the kind would be invaluable. +If we refuse to elect him the natives will get to hear of it--they get +to hear of everything--and we stand a good chance of being burned in +our beds. I don’t say we might elect Mr Smith--I say that for our own +safety we must elect him.” + +As Mr Bassett finished there was a sound a little like distant +applause; it was merely the club parrot stropping his beak on his perch +with furious energy. + +“We will proceed to vote, gentlemen,” said Sir John. “You know which +way my casting vote will go if there is any difference of opinion +between you.” + +“You damned thief!” screamed the parrot. + +“I shall certainly vote that Mr Smith be elected,” said Mr Bassett. + +“You damned thief!” screamed the parrot again. + +“Well, I’m quite decided now,” said Dr Pryce. + +“You damned thief!” shrieked the parrot once more. Sir John banged the +bell again and again. + +“Thomas!” he shouted, “take that infernal bird inside. We can’t hear +ourselves speak. Now,” he added more suavely, “we are ready for your +vote, Dr Pryce, and the election turns on it.” + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Mr Bassett had made the commonest mistake of political speakers; he +had supposed that the argument which appealed most strongly to himself +would appeal most strongly to his audience. He had appealed to fear. Dr +Soames Pryce was not a timid man, and he resented what he regarded as +an attempt to scare him. + +“I vote against the election of Mr Smith to this club,” said Dr Pryce, +bluntly. + +“After all you have said?” exclaimed Mr Bassett. “You surprise me very +much.” + +“One moment, Mr Bassett,” said the President. “I must declare then that +Mr John Smith is not elected.” + +Mr Bassett paused with the pen in his hand. “Am I to write ‘not +elected,’ gentlemen? We have all admitted that Smith is a good, +hospitable fellow, and we have business dealings with him. We might let +him down as easily as possible. May I write ‘postponed for further +consideration’? It commits us to nothing, and it’s not quite so harsh.” + +“I see no objection to that,” said Sir John. “What do you think, +doctor?” + +“No objection,” said Dr Soames Pryce with a yawn. + +“Then,” said Sir John, as he rose, “I think that concludes our +business.” + +The head-gardener and his two assistants made an incautious appearance, +and were at once commanded to carry the club-books within to the +secretary’s room. Mr Bassett said he supposed he ought to go and see +how poor Cyril Mast was getting on after last night. + +Dr Soames Pryce watched Bassett’s little figure under the big hat +retreating down the avenue. + +“Nice specimen of Pusillanimus Ambulans, or the Walking Toadstool,” +said Dr Pryce. “What’s next, Sweetling? I don’t mind backing my green +lizard against the clock.” + +“Silly game, very silly,” said Sir John. “Still, I may as well lose +four half-crowns at that as anything else. And”--he glanced at his +elaborate presentation watch--“there’s still half an hour before +lunch.” + +The course for lizard-racing had been designed and laid out by Dr +Pryce in the courtyard on the further side of the club. The course was +circular, and the boards on either side sloped inwards so that the +lizards should not climb them. A lizard attempting escape would go +straight ahead by the only path open to it, round and round the circle. +That was the rule, but there were various exceptions. + +Dr Pryce produced the box of plaited grass in which his lizard was +kept, and turned it out on to the course. It made an ineffectual +attempt to climb the side, and then went straight away, looking rather +like a clever clockwork toy. + +“Lay you ten shillings it doesn’t go round in thirty-six seconds,” said +Sir John. + +“Thirty-four’s record. Not good enough. I’ll back him to do two rounds +in seventy-five for the same money.” + +“Done. Start the watch.” + +Both men put down their money and kept one eye on the stop-watch and +one on the starting-point. The lizard was round in 35.5 and going +strongly. A few feet further on it paused as if it were saying to +itself, “Let’s see--where did I put my umbrella?” Then it turned right +round and went back, presumably, to fetch it. + +“Damn,” said Dr Pryce, and put the lizard tenderly back in its box +again. + +Sir John laughed and slipped the two half-sovereigns into his waistcoat +pocket. “Want another?” he asked. + +“No thanks,” said the doctor. “My beast’s got into one of his +absent-minded moods. He’s like that sometimes. He might beat the +record, or he might go to sleep in the first patch of sunshine.” + +The club was beginning to fill up now. In the reading-room two or +three members turned over the out-of-date papers--but there is really +no date in Faloo. Little groups on the lawn in front of the house +sipped cocktails. Lord Charles Baringstoke went from group to group +with his usual plaintive, “Anybody goin’ to stand me anythin’?” Thomas +was fixing the _carte du jour_ in the frame over the dining-room +mantelpiece; the fireplace was filled with pot-roses in bloom, had +never known a fire, and did not possess a chimney. Two other English +waiters and many native servants bustled to and fro. + +Sir John and Dr Pryce took their Manhattans on the verandah. “Do you +know,” said Sir John, “I almost thought you were going to elect King +Smith this morning.” + +“So did I,” said the doctor. “Believe we ought to have done it too. +He’s better than that worm Charley Baringstoke, or a boozer like Cyril +Mast, or a mean badger like Bassett. Better than most of us, in fact. +It was Bassett put me off it.” + +“So I noticed,” said Sir John. + +“Interesting man too,” said Dr Pryce. “Has he really got these +ideas--the ambitious poppycock that you talked about?” + +“If he had, would you let him make a start with them?” asked Sir John, +enigmatically. + +“I would not,” said the doctor. + +“I think you’re the man I want. We’ll talk about it at luncheon. Our +curry should be ready by now.” + +The meal was called luncheon, but for all classes on the island +luncheon was the principal meal of the day; in fact, no regular +club-dinner was served in the evening. Most of the members were +gathered in the dining-room now, but a small table had been reserved +for the President and Dr Soames Pryce. At the next table Mr +Mandelbaum, a round-faced German of great girth, was entertaining Lord +Charles Baringstoke, who under alcoholic influence was being betrayed +into confidences. “You see,” he whined loudly, “it wasn’t so much that +I went a mucker, because of course all my people went muckers; it was +the particular kind of mucker that I went.” The German passed a fat +hand over his salient moustache and addressed him as “my poor frent.” + +Sir John and the doctor conducted their conversation in more discreet +tones. + +“Do you think,” said Sir John, “that the King really meant to be +elected to-day? Did he sound you?” + +“He’s not on those terms,” said Pryce. + +“He could have made a certainty of it if he had not let Cyril Mast get +drunk last night and had sent him up to the scratch this morning. He +could have done that. It would have been Mast and Bassett against you, +and my casting vote would not have come in.” + +“Perhaps he took things too easily. But why should he get himself put +up?” + +“Well, I’ll tell you my views. It was a move to blind you and +others--to make you think that he hankered for nothing but the joys of +European civilisation and the society of white men. His genial manner +and his free hospitality are a blind of the same nature. The man’s +native through and through, soul and body. He is playing the game for +his own natives, with himself at the head of them--as he is indeed +to-day--but in a position of much greater power and dignity.” + +“I don’t say it isn’t so,” said Pryce. “But what do you build on?” + +“Several things. I’ve known Smith a long time, and I’ve only once known +him miss a trade opportunity. He won’t sell liquor to his own natives. +He won’t let them get it. The stills and liquor-stores are taboo. He’s +after money, but he won’t do that. You’ve noticed it yourself. About +two months ago I was going along by the beach one night, and I turned +into Smith’s place for a drink. He was alone in his office, sitting +at a table, with his back to me, and working on some papers. “Hullo, +Cyril,” he said, without looking round. Evidently he was expecting +Mast. There was a tin trunk open on the floor, and it was packed with +blue-books and pamphlets--things of that kind. I went up to him and +touched him on the shoulder. I don’t think he was so pleased to see +me as he said he was. King Smith was studying the native depopulation +statistics in the different groups, and making notes on them. King +Smith had got old dailies and weekly reviews--radical rags--with +passages marked in blue chalk, spread before him. I tried to see more, +but he was very quick--shovelled them all together, threw them into the +tin trunk, and kicked the lid down. He said that he had been reading +some dull stuff, and then out came the whisky, of course.” + +“I wonder now if he’d have any chance. I think he might.” + +“Given that he had the money, and that he could get into touch with +English publicists--journalists or politicians of a certain kind--I +think he’d have a very good chance at first. Of course all traces of +his liquor business would be traded off or sunk in the Pacific by then. +The Little-Englanders and sentimental radicals would back him to a man. +It would be shown that he had governed well, kept the natives sober, +and was fighting for admitted independence to keep them from the +dangerous influences of white civilisation.” + +“Well,” said Pryce, “they are undoubtedly dangerous--for natives.” + +“There are depopulation statistics to prove it. The fact that he handed +us all over to what they are pleased to call justice would count in +his favour. His patriotic attitude would appeal. The fact that the +island is too small to matter, and that no expense was involved, would +help. If he caught the country in the right temper, with nothing of +real importance to distract its attention, the _Chronicle_ and _News_ +would scream ‘Faloo for its own people!’ for a while. In the end it +would be protection--French or British--but that doesn’t matter a straw +to us. We should be done. Look here, doctor, I’ve made one mistake in +my life and I can’t afford to make another. Whether Smith’s ideas are +exactly what I say or not, he is trying to do things which will attract +attention. We can’t let him start.” + +“That is so,” said Pryce. “And how do we stop him? Money comes first, I +suppose?” + +“Certainly. I’ve already been into that point. Smith must never be +much richer than he is now; if he goes on with this money-lending, +he must be rather poorer. Of course, Bassett can see nothing but +twenty per cent. instead of ten, and some of the other members are +like him, but I think we can do without a dividend for a year or +two if necessary. There’s no need to show our hand. We can’t adopt +deliberately a thwarting policy. But I have an idea that when Smith +begins to be too prosperous he will lose a schooner with a valuable +cargo. A store or two may be burned down. Some new line of business, +which has been suggested by his English friends, is likely to be a +financial loss. The second point is that he must not get into touch +with the people who can help him--publicists. It would not be healthy +for us to have much written about Faloo in the London papers. Well, +he can’t get away himself--his trade and the natives tie him by the +leg. There’s no telephone or telegraph here--thank Heaven!--and our +mail arrives and leaves irregularly in one of his own schooners, which +has to go hundreds of miles with it. I fancy that if you chose to go +a cruise in that schooner something might happen to any letters it +carried which were not to the general interest. You could manage that?” + +“Pleasure--at any time.” + +“I may ask you to do it.” + +“Look here, Sweetling, that’s all right, of course. But I fancy you’re +looking so far ahead that you’re missing the next step. The row with +the natives about their women is the next step. And although there’s no +need to get into blue funk about it, like Bassett, it may very easily +be the last step too.” + +“I know,” said Sir John. “I’m going to speak to some of the men about +it. I wish you’d tackle Cyril Mast.” + +“Well,” said Dr Pryce, “it’s rather difficult. You see, I’m not exactly +qualified for--er--er--stained-glass treatment myself, and Mast knows +it. For that matter, I could tell you a true story about the amiable +Bassett. However, I’ll advise discretion--if they’d only remember that +all the native women don’t come into the same category it would be all +right. By the way, you were rather down on Cyril Mast.” + +“The man’s a human sink.” + +“There are times when that describes him. There are also times when +he’d shock Naples and make Port Said blush. There is no act of madness +which he might not possibly commit. But he has his moments. I’ll try +to find him in a lucid interval. Good Lord! I wonder why King Smith +doesn’t give the natives their head and wipe the island clean of the +whole lot of us.” + +“Excellent prudential reasons. Smith banks--has been compelled to bank +by those who financed him. His cheques require the signatures of two +Englishmen as well as his own. It is awkward at times to have a bank so +far away, but I thought it advisable that the money should not be kept +here.” + +“That’s all right,” said the doctor, rising from the table. “I’ve got a +native with pneumonia down on the beach. I’ll go and look at him.” + +“Half a moment,” said Sir John. “Last time a schooner came in, two +piano-cases were brought ashore. I’ve looked round, and the only piano +in the island is in Smith’s big concrete house, where he never lives, +and that piano was there ages before. Pianos? Guns, my boy. Smith’s +keeping the natives in check for all he’s worth. It’s his best policy. +But if it does come to an outbreak, you’ll find the natives armed +and Smith leading them. You can tell Mast that. If Smith gets into a +position where he finds his hand forced, and it’s a question of the +white man or the native, he’ll throw over his trade and his ambitions, +wipe out the white men, and chance it. Now, haven’t I seen the next +step? Pryce, I watch everything. I can’t afford to make another +mistake.” + +“An almighty row--a big fight--and then wiped out, as you say,” said +Pryce, meditatively. “One might do worse.” + +“Possibly. All the same, I’m going to spend this afternoon in +frightening the life out of Parker and Simmons and Mandelbaum and Lord +Charles Baringstoke. I leave it to you to make Cyril Mast ashamed of +himself.” + +“He’s always that,” said Pryce, as he turned away. + +Mr Bassett had said that he was going to see Cyril Mast; therefore it +was quite certain that he was going elsewhere. He had taken luncheon +with King Smith, had eaten baked fishes with the eternal cokernut cream +sauce and a conserve of guavas which was one of the King’s trade-items. +He had drunk with great moderation of an excellent hock and iced water. + +Three sides of a square on the beach were occupied by the King’s stores +and office, with some living-rooms attached. The styles of building +were various. There was concrete, dazzlingly white in the sun. There +was timber. There was corrugated iron. There were shanties built in +the native fashion--poles planted close together for the walls, and a +leaf thatch for the roof. The King had a fine concrete house with an +excellent garden in the interior, but he rarely visited it. + +Luncheon had been served by native boys in one of the living-rooms. +The King now smoked a Havannah and sipped coffee which he himself +had grown. There was surprisingly little that was native in his +appearance. He wore a white flannel shirt, white duck trousers, and +white canvas shoes, all of spotless cleanliness. His tint was very +light. He had none of the native’s love for personal decoration with +flowers and necklaces. His eyes were not like a native’s. They had not +that sleeping gentleness, and were the eyes of a master among men. No +native would have worn those shoes. The natives went barefoot as a +rule, torturing themselves with squeaking boots on state occasions or +as a concession to the French missionaries. But the King had all the +native’s inborn grace of movement, and he wore his hair rather longer +than a European’s. He looked at Bassett with that slightly cynical air +of a man who has gauged another man completely, will use him to the +utmost, and will not trust him quite as far as he could throw him. +Bassett had removed his big hat, and his indecent baldness shone with +perspiration; it gave something of the appearance of the vulture to a +head which otherwise suggested the ape. + +“All I can say is that I did my best,” said Bassett, plaintively. “It +nearly came off. Dr Soames Pryce had seemed all in your favour, and +then just when it came to the voting, he went right round.” + +“Ah!” said Smith. His voice was pleasing and his pronunciation was +perfect. “And was that just after you had spoken?” + +“It was,” said Bassett, “and that’s what makes it so surprising.” The +King smiled. “We ought to have had Mast there. I said so.” + +“Well, well, my friend,” said King Smith, “you did your best and who +can do more? Perhaps, when Sir John and the doctor have got to trust +me a little more, I may be elected. If they do not think I am yet fit +for the high honour of membership, I must wait. It is bad to force +oneself. I can wait very well. There was a time when every inch of +this island belonged to my forefathers; but I must remember that I own +comparatively little myself. I am a king by direct descent; but I must +not forget that I am a poor trader far more than I am a king. I owe +much to the white man. It is his money that has helped me to develop +the resources of my island. It is to the white man that I owe my +education. Many are kind enough to come in sometimes for a little chat +with me. Further intimacy is to be a matter of consideration--after all +it is not unnatural.” + +“You seem to take it smiling,” said Bassett. + +“My friend, you were, I think, what you call a solicitor. That means +a great education. I often look at you with envy when I think of the +vast number of things that you must know and I do not, and of the +things that would be easy for you to arrange and are so difficult for +me. But if I might venture to give one little piece of advice, it is +this--always take a defeat smiling and a triumph seriously. Ah, you +must take that as a joke. I cannot tell you anything you do not know.” + +“It’s true enough that to be a solicitor one must pass very severe +tests,” said Bassett. “And every day of practice in a good firm means a +lesson in knowledge of the world.” He was quite unused to flattery, and +was ready to take a good deal of it. + +“My friend,” said the King, “you do not drink my cognac, and it is too +good to miss. Alone I would not have got it. It comes to me by favour +of the padre.” + +Bassett, who knew his physiological limitations, hesitated, filled his +glass and sipped. He expressed an opinion that the French missionaries +knew how to take care of themselves. + +“Yes,” Bassett continued. “As a solicitor I met with all kinds of men. +I can generally make an estimate. I have my doubts about Dr Soames +Pryce. I have raced lizards against him; doctors know drugs and can use +them.” + +The suggestion was too preposterous, and the King’s laughter was both +hearty and natural. “But I think not. It is unlikely,” he said. “The +doctor is not in any want of money, and he does not risk his position +here with all of you for a little piece of ten shillings. I do not know +much, and so I have to guess a good deal. I should guess that it was no +question of money that sent Dr Soames Pryce to Faloo.” + +King Smith watched his guest with a critical eye. It was not generally +advisable to speak of the past in Faloo. Lord Charles Baringstoke was +quite shameless, and the Rev. Cyril Mast was occasionally maudlin, and +these two had chattered about themselves, but members of the Exiles’ +Club were mostly discreet and reserved as to their personal histories. + +“Wasn’t it money?” said Bassett, peevishly. “No. Perhaps not. Perhaps +it was something worse--something which could not be misunderstood.” + +“Then these money troubles in your country--the sort of troubles that +have decided some of you to leave it--may possibly be only due to +misunderstanding.” + +“That and other things. You see, you don’t know about these matters.” + +“No,” said the King, regretfully, “I do not know that great world in +which you moved.” + +“Well, see here,” said Bassett a little excitedly. “Suppose there is +a sum of money--a hundred pounds or a thousand, any sum you like. You +know as a business man that if you were asked for that sum one day you +might be unable to find it--though you would be able to get it if you +were given time.” + +“Yes, I see that.” + +“I had money belonging to clients--ladies of course. They were very +impatient, and consulted another solicitor, a jealous rival. The money +was being employed by me in a way that would ultimately, if I had +been left alone, have benefited those clients. It was not immediately +available, and delicate financial operations do not admit of clumsy +interference. The result was disastrous. I--I gave up and came here.” + +“It is wonderful that you knew of this little island.” + +“I had heard of it--two men that I knew had already gone out.” + +“Your clients--they were not all ladies?” said the King, as he refilled +Bassett’s glass “I suppose traders like myself consulted you--clergymen +too, perhaps.” + +“There are no traders like you in England,” said Bassett. “But men +of the highest business standing consulted me. Lechworthy now--I’ve +lunched with him often. A Cabinet Minister was one of my clients. I +tell you, I’d some of the very top. I daresay you never heard of the +great libel action against the _Daily Message_--well, I acted for the +_Message_.” + +King Smith had listened very attentively. “That must make a +difference,” he said. + +“How?” + +“Men like that would be superior to a vulgar misunderstanding. They +would see, as I do, that it was a mistake--that you had acted for the +best--that your probity was not in question. It must be pleasant for +you here when the mail comes in--friendly letters from Mr Lechworthy, +who manufactures the leather goods--letters still showing his gratitude +from the editor of the _Daily Message_, or perhaps--” + +“You don’t know anything, my boy,” said Bassett. He was slightly +flushed, his voice was raised, and his manner was more familiar. “The +editor of the _Daily Message_ indeed! That case cost his proprietor +close on fifty thousand. You make me laugh. No, when a man in England +goes under, nobody goes down to look for him. Lechworthy, with all his +piety, was as hot as anyone against me. The only letters I get are from +my old mother, and they’re no use.” + +It was not then through Mr Bassett’s personal connections that King +Smith would be able to get into touch with the right people for the +scheme which he had in view. Cyril Mast and Lord Charles had also +boasted an influential acquaintance, and in their case, too, the thread +had been snapped. The King was not disappointed. He had found out what +he wished to know, and he had no further use at the moment for Mr +Bassett. + +The King rose. “I must go back to my work,” he said. “Stay here and +drink if you like.” + +But Bassett also rose. “I have drunk enough,” he said as he peered at +his face in a scrap of mirror on the wall. He wondered vaguely if he +had been talking too much. He tried to think of something complimentary +to say. “I--I respect the way you work,” was his effort; and then +certain fears recurred to his mind. “I say, is it all right about the +native women?” + +“No,” said the King, “it is not all right. But there will be no serious +trouble yet, unless further cause is given. I have been busy about it +this morning.” + +“Awfully good of you,” said Bassett. “You’re a sort of protection to +the white men here. I say, you ought to have been elected, you know.” + +“Remember that there may come a time when I cannot protect. The natives +here are not much spoiled. This is not Papeete.” + +“That’s what I’m always saying to our chaps.” + +“Say it also to yourself, my friend. I had a man here this morning who +wished to kill you. No, he will not do it. Now I must go.” + +It was a very sobered Bassett that skulked back along the beach to +the club-house. He jumped perceptibly when a land-crab rattled an old +meat-tin on the stones. At the club it seemed to him that most of the +men were sulky and bad-tempered. Some slept on the verandah. The German +and Lord Charles Baringstoke bent over an interminable game of chess. +Lord Charles looked up as Bassett passed. + +“I say, Mr damned Bassett,” said Lord Charles, “why didn’t you elect +Smith?” + +“Oh, go to the devil!” said Bassett, irritably, and went on to his own +room. He was angry with himself, and a man in that case is always angry +with the rest of the world. + +King Smith went on with his work, assiduously as a London clerk under +the eye of the senior partner. It was near sunset when he came out on +to the beach. + +Down by the water’s edge stood the Rev. Cyril Mast. He was quite a +young man, and his face was that of a dissipated boy. At present he was +looking out through glasses that he could not hold quite steady. + +“You look at nothing,” laughed Smith. + +“See for yourself,” said Mast, in a musical, resonant voice. “Your +schooner will be in before you expected her.” + +King Smith took the glasses and levelled them at the little speck on +the horizon. + +“It is a schooner, but not mine,” he said. “A chance trader perhaps. +Mine can’t be here for three days. That one can’t get here to-night. +To-morrow morning we shall see. And how do you feel to-night, Cyril?” + +“As I deserve to feel, I suppose. I am bad company to-night. You are +the first person to whom I have spoken to-day, and I have neither eaten +nor drunk.” + +“Poor devil, come up and have a drink now.” + +“No, thanks. I’m going for a swim.” + +“Don’t recommend it,” said the King. + +“The sharks are welcome,” said Mast. + +The sun set. Light streamed out from native-built houses. In all +directions one heard the sound of singing. It mingled with the lap and +fret of wavelets on the shore. Mast swam out and back again in safety. +As he walked along the beach a native girl called to him. She stood in +the light of one of the houses, a flower of scarlet hibiscus behind her +ear; her white teeth shone as she smiled. + +One by one the lights of the houses went out. The sky became gemmed +with many stars. Faloo was asleep. The King had put aside for a while +his problem--how to get in touch with an Englishman who could help him. + +In the schooner that he had sighted there was such a man, though the +King did not know it--a man of great wealth, a newspaper proprietor, a +keen politician--Mr Lechworthy, who manufactured the leather goods. The +circumstances that brought Mr Lechworthy to Faloo must now be recorded. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The factories of Lechworthy & Co. covered many acres at Setton Park, +and the large village adjoining was inhabited almost solely by those +employed in the factories. + +In the factories as in the offices of Lechworthy & Co. one found +the last word of effectiveness and enterprise. Time after time good +machinery had been scrapped to make way for better and to meet American +competition, and the enormous outlay involved had subsequently +justified itself. Everything connected with their business was +manufactured at Setton Park. Boxes and crates were made there. They +made every metal article required--from the eyelets of a pair of cheap +boots to the gold fittings of the most expensive dressing-case. They +made their own glue. They even made their own thread. + +Lechworthy & Co. were good employers. They paid fair wages, and in +the treatment of their workwomen went far beyond what the Factory Acts +required of them. Allotments, cricket fields, libraries, recreation +halls abounded. Lechworthy & Co. had themselves seen to it that the +least paid woman in the packing or lining departments could obtain an +abundant supply of pure milk for her babies at a price she could easily +afford. The sanitation was excellent, and the delightful air of the +country--for the tannery was at a judicious distance--made town-workers +envy their more fortunate comrades at Lechworthy’s. Thrift was +compulsory and automatic. The man who grew old and past work, or who +broke down from illness in the company’s service, found ample provision +made for him from funds to which his own savings had contributed, +augmented by the company’s generosity. Such a man need not leave Setton +Park; there was a cottage for him, and it was not called an alms-house; +medical attendance was provided free for him. The conditions still +prevailed which were established when Lechworthy turned his business +into a Limited Company. The ordinary investor had never been given a +chance to put a penny into the concern. Lechworthy had by far the +largest holding, and the other shareholders were men of a like mind, +personal and political friends; men of substance, and, it was averred, +of nice conscience. The company earned an excellent dividend, in spite +of its philanthropical ideas. + +It was not of course to be expected that Lechworthy & Co. would +entirely escape criticism. The man who has political friends has +also political enemies, and the political enemy is not always too +scrupulous in the way in which he inquires into his opponents’ private +business. A part at least of the raw material which the company +purchased had been subjected to comment. Their attitude towards any +smaller manufacturer was characterised as merciless--he was absorbed +into Lechworthy’s, or he was frozen off the face of the earth. The +scheme of compulsory thrift was commented upon even by those who +did not deny a value to compulsory virtues. It was said quite truly +that any man who voluntarily left the company’s service, or who was +dismissed for misconduct, thereby sacrificed all that he had been +compelled to put by. It was answered as truly that every man who +entered the service knew upon what conditions he entered it, and that +the company had a right to guard itself against disloyalty, defection +and disorder, by all the means in its power. In view of the fact that +Lechworthy had always proclaimed freedom of religious and political +opinions, it was held to be remarkable that ninety per cent. of his +work-people shared his political views, and that while every shade of +dissent was represented among them, it was hard to find a member of +the Church of England and impossible to find either a Catholic or an +Agnostic. If this were mentioned to Lechworthy he said merely that he +had been fortunate, or that he supposed that like attracted like. He +was sincere, and had strong convictions; he was also shrewd and knew +that strong convictions depend amazingly little upon argument. Many a +workman of Lechworthy’s had professed for mercenary and time-serving +reasons a religion which had afterwards become real to him--not as the +result of a cool reasoning analysis, but by sheer force of habit and by +the unconscious effect of example. Now and again a discharged servant +of the company asserted bitterly that he had been discharged for his +political or religious views, but the head of his department always +had another story to tell, and the evidence of discharged servants +is always--and quite properly--discounted. A more serious charge +was that he had kept on servants whom he should have discharged. Mr +Bruce Chalmers, the Conservative candidate, had attempted to address +a meeting of the men in their dinner-hour. Lechworthy’s young men +had smashed up the motor-car, and hurled stones and mud at himself, +his wife, and his supporters. Mrs Bruce Chalmers had been seriously +injured, the police had come to the rescue, and several of these +fervent young men had been imprisoned without the option of a fine. +But their situations were still waiting for them when they came out, +and in some of the worst cases promotion rapidly followed. Lechworthy +maintained that he had told Chalmers that if he addressed the men he +would do so at his own risk, and that those who provoked a breach of +the peace should not complain if the peace were broken. If, as he +supposed, the law had punished his men sufficiently, it would have been +unnecessary and unjust for him to punish them further. Those who knew +that two words from Lechworthy would have prevented the outbreak, or +knew what Lechworthy’s attitude would have been to a workman who had +been fined for drunkenness, did not think the defence satisfactory. +For the rest, the selection of books in the free library at Setton +Park provoked a sneer, the blacking out of all the racing news in the +reading-room papers seemed a little childish, and the absence of a +rifle-range, when gymnasia, swimming-baths, and cricket fields were +liberally provided, was taken as an instance of the short-sighted +methods of professed lovers of peace. + +At the age of sixty Lechworthy determined to retire from the board of +his company. He had relinquished the position of managing director some +years before. He was not so young as he had been--it was his favourite +observation--and other men could be found to take his place on the +board. He was an active Member of Parliament and he was the proprietor +of the _Morning Guide_. The paper did not pay, and Lechworthy did not +run it to pay; he said more than once in public that he ran it in the +service of Christ. Incidentally, it was of some use as an organ of +his political party, and a most enthralling hobby for himself. While +in England he was quite incapable of leaving the editor alone for two +days together. The same doctor who had recommended him to retire from +the board of Lechworthy & Co. had suggested a prolonged holiday in +some place where it would be impossible for him to see a copy of the +_Morning Guide_. + +The occasion of his retirement had of course to be marked. Sounded upon +the subject, Lechworthy had objected to the service of gold plate or +to his full-length portrait by the most fashionable and most expensive +artist. He did not want for money, or for the things that money can +buy, and he said that he thought the talented artist might find some +more pleasing subject. He knew too, that subscriptions would come from +many who could ill afford to give them, and that idea was repellent +to him. But he consented to receive an illuminated address, to which +his employees might affix their signatures. The address swelled itself +to a book, every leaf of the finest vellum, magnificently bound, +majestically expressed. The title-page declared as follows: + + _To_ WILBERFORCE LECHWORTHY, ESQUIRE, + JUSTICE OF THE PEACE AND MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT + FOR SOUTH LOAMSHIRE, + ON THE OCCASION OF HIS RETIREMENT FROM + THAT BUSINESS + WHICH HIS GENIUS AND HIS UNTIRING INDUSTRY + HAVE WITH THE BLESSING OF THE ALMIGHTY + CREATED. + +The presentation of this rather portentous volume was to take place +on a Saturday evening. On the afternoon of that day every employee +of the company was invited to tea by Lechworthy. A number of vast +marquees were erected for the purpose on the cricket-field; and the +return match between Setton Park and the Hanley Wanderers was in +consequence postponed. The _Evening News_ headed its paragraph on +the subject: “LECHWORTHY PACKING--WHO MADE THE PORTMANTEAU?” But the +paragraph itself dealt seriously with statistics supplied by the firm +of caterers, informing the curious how many hams or how many pats of +butter had been thought sufficient. The Setton Park Band performed +on the occasion. The antique show of Punch and Judy was to be seen +freely, and swings were prevalent. Wilberforce Lechworthy went +from one marquee to another, joined in the audience that witnessed +the flagrant immoralities of Mr Punch, and chatted with the crowds +that waited for their turn at the swings. He displayed a king-like +memory for faces and the geniality of a headmaster on Speech-day. The +presentation of the address took place some hours later in a hall +which, though it was the largest at the company’s disposal, could not +provide seating accommodation for one third of its workers. Heads of +departments had tickets, and seniority of service counted. For those +who were of necessity omitted, Mr Lechworthy had provided a fine +display of fireworks. Inside the hall the Bishop of Merspool was in +the chair, Mr Albert Grice, M.P., was ready to speak, and the address +was to be presented by Mr Hutchinson, supported by speeches from Mr +Wallis, Mr Salter and Mr Bailey. In spite of this, either from altruism +or from want of thought, several of the privileged workmen offered +their tickets freely to comrades who had otherwise to be content with +the display of fireworks; nor were these offers invariably accepted. +Some observations by the Bishop on the influences of religion in our +commercial life occupied five lines in the papers next morning, +concluding, “The presentation then took place.” The _Morning Guide_ +was more explicit and gave nearly a column. It reported the Bishop, Mr +Grice, and Mr Hutchinson; it summarised Mr Wallis and Mr Salter, and +asserted that Mr Bailey (who had spoken for twenty-five minutes) “added +a few words of graceful eulogy.” All it said of Mr Lechworthy was the +bald statement that he returned thanks. Thus, indeed, had Mr Lechworthy +directed. + +None of the papers noted the presence on the platform of Miss Hilda +Auriol, the niece of Mr Lechworthy, nor can it be pretended that she +constituted an item of public interest. But, for the idle purposes of +this story, something must be said of her, even if, in consequence, it +become necessary to suppress any detailed account of Mr Bailey’s words +of graceful eulogy, or of the Bishop’s rediscovery that it is better to +be good. + +Wilberforce Lechworthy, childless and a widower, had been glad to adopt +Hilda Auriol, one of his married sister’s very numerous family. At the +age of six he professed to have detected in her a decided character. +She was now twenty-three, and her uncle was very fond of her, but she +was perhaps the only person of whom he was much afraid. Let it not +be supposed that her temper was either sour or dictatorial. She was +sunniness itself, and her criticism of life--including her uncle--was +fresh and breezy. Her perspicacity detected and her soul abhorred +anything that was specious and plausible; in practical politics and in +the conduct of a great modern business the specious and the plausible +have unfortunately their place, and Wilberforce did occasionally say +things after which he experienced a momentary reluctance to meet his +niece’s eye. She had a sense of humour and she was by nature a fighter. +Her uncle himself was not a keener politician, and it was perhaps +fortunate that in most respects their politics were identical. If she +had asserted her independence she had not lost her femininity; she did +take much thought as to the wherewithal she should be clothed, and she +liked admiration. And she got it. If she had not already refused six +offers of marriage, it was merely because she had not allowed six men +to go quite as far as they had intended. Heart-whole, she had not yet +met a man who much interested her, nor was she trying to arrange the +meeting. She paid no great attention to athletics, but she could swim +a mile, could sit a horse, and was a really good shot with a revolver. +Of the last item her uncle had not entirely approved. “Why not?” said +Hilda. “It’s a question of instinct. Instinct wouldn’t let me play +football or smack a policeman’s face, but it does let me learn to +shoot and want to vote.” She explained that she was only ready to use +violence if it were not her own violence but the violence of the other +sex. “For instance, when young Bruce Chalmers had the cheek to try to +address your men, I would not have thrown stones myself, but--if I had +been there--I would have encouraged the men who did throw them.” + +“For goodness’ sake don’t say that,” said her uncle. “It was a +lamentable occurrence, and it was most unfortunate that it was a woman +who was hurt. It has done us more harm than good.” + +Hilda laughed. She had a rather disconcerting laugh. + +At the presentation she had looked charming. In the afternoon she had +made friends with a dozen babies and played games with them, and she +still wore her afternoon dress. But she looked fresh, cool, unruffled, +delicately tended. Her mutinous little mouth remained firm and quiet, +but a wicked brightness came into her eyes whenever a speaker achieved +unconscious humour--and this was a calamity which occurred to most of +the speakers. On the other hand, when Mr Grice recalled “an intensely +amusing anecdote related to me by an old Scottish lady,” Hilda sighed +gently and seemed to be thinking of far-off sad things. To such an +extent may feminine perversity be carried. + +Mr Grice, Mr Hutchinson and Mr Wallis were all directors of the +company, and returned to London in Mr Lechworthy’s special saloon +carriage. The express stopped at Setton Park by arrangement to pick it +up. The Bishop had already spread his ecclesiastical wings in another +direction. Supper was served at a little flower-decked table in the +carriage for the party of eight. The three who have not already been +mentioned were Lechworthy’s elderly unmarried sister, who was nervous +and good-natured; Burton, his secretary, who had obligingly taken a +short-hand note; and Mr Harmer, quite recently of Corpus, Oxford, and +at present a leader-writer on the _Morning Guide_. Mr Harmer wore at +first the air of a man who had got the little party together and meant +to be kind to them, even if they did not quite reach his level. Later +he had a brief conversation with Hilda Auriol, to whom he wished to +say complimentary things; Hilda, metaphorically speaking, smote him +between the eyes, and thereafter he wore the air of a dead rabbit. +Yet she addressed her uncle’s secretary as Tommy, and went into fits +of laughter over his excellent but irreverent imitation of the Bishop +of Merspool, done for her private delectation. She was polite and +charming to Mr Hutchinson and Mr Wallis, who admired her intensely; +and to Mr Grice, who admired her quite as much as a married and +middle-aged Member of Parliament had any business to do. Altogether, it +was a cheerful little party. Mr Lechworthy, his sister and his niece +did not touch the dry champagne to which the others did justice; but +Mr Lechworthy’s ginger-ale, taken in a champagne-glass, presented a +colourable imitation of festivity. At the moment of the cigarette, Miss +Lechworthy and her niece retired to rest with instructions that they +were not to be called before London. + +In the little saloon, when the supper-table had been cleared, the +men sat round and chatted, Mr Harmer alone being taciturn--which was +unusual with him. If the conversation was now more serious it was quite +optimistic. Mr Grice removed a faded malmaison from his button-hole, +jerked it into the outer darkness, and remarked that it must be +difficult for a man of Mr Lechworthy’s splendid energy to get himself +to take a holiday at all. + +Mr Lechworthy was smoking the briar pipe which he permitted himself +after dark. His figure was lean, and at this late hour of night did not +show any sign of fatigue. He sat upright. His hair was grey, but he had +no tendency to baldness. He did not wear spectacles or false teeth. He +certainly seemed for a man of his age unusually strong and healthy. But +he made his customary observation that he was not as young as he had +been. He spoke of his holiday plans. + +“Let me see,” said Mr Wallis. “I suppose you go to Sydney first?” + +“Sydney and then Auckland. Might go on by one of the Union boats from +there. But I want to get a little off the usual lines, and I think +that I should do better to buy or hire a schooner there. I know very +little about such things, but I have friends at Auckland who would help +me. I’m fond of sailing.” + +“You’re to be envied,” said Grice. “No business, no House of Commons. +Nothing to do but enjoy yourself.” + +Lechworthy fixed his rather fanatical eyes on him. “Nothing to do but +enjoy myself? That would be a poor kind of life, Grice. No, no. Let me +use my holiday as I have tried to use politics, journalism, and even +the business with which I have just disconnected myself--to the highest +service of all.” + +“Quite so,” said Hutchinson. “The rest--the gain in health and +strength--will be valuable to you, because they will enable you to +resume that service.” + +“Yes, yes. True enough. But I had thought of something beyond that. A +voyage without an end in view would not greatly interest me, and even +if one does not work one must at least have some sort of occupation. +Our friend, Mr Harmer, will laugh at me, but I am proposing to write a +pamphlet--it may even be a little book.” + +It should surely be abhorrent to a leader-writer to laugh at +his proprietor’s ambitions. Mr Harmer did not laugh. He left +his taciturnity and his brandy-and-soda to observe that he was +convinced that Mr Lechworthy already possessed materials for a dozen +books--interesting books too. If there was any difficulty about getting +the thing into literary shape Mr Harmer would only be too happy, etc., +etc. + +“Thank you very much. If I don’t ask you, it won’t be because I don’t +know your capabilities in that way. But, you see, Mr Harmer, I’m not +going to try to do anything literary. I couldn’t. And if you did it +for me under my name, I should be wearing borrowed plumes. Tell you +what I’m going to do--I’m going to make notes of the different missions +in the islands I visit. I can only touch the fringe of the subject, +of course. Goodness knows how many inhabited islands there are where +I’m going--Eastern and Southern Pacific--and I shall only have six or +eight months there. Still I want to wake up our people about South Sea +Missions. The ordinary man knows nothing about the islands. What could +you, Tommy, for instance, tell us about them?” + +“I dunno,” said Tommy, reflectively. “I read some yarns about them when +I was a kid. All coral and cokernuts, ain’t they?” + +“Ah! There are human souls there too. Yes, and I’m told that in one +group at any rate Roman Catholicism is rampant. There’s work to be +done.” + +“Well,” said Grice, “if we hadn’t been fools enough to let the French +slip in and grab what they wanted--” + +“Grice, my friend, let us be proud that in one instance, at any rate, +this country has not done all the grabbing. I’m not going to suggest +that we should add one square foot to our possessions. We have too +much--territorially, we’re gorged. No, let us see rather what we can do +to spread the true religion in place of the false. That’s what I feel. +If I can do one little thing for the cause of true religion, then my +holiday won’t be entirely wasted.” + +“No, indeed,” said Mr Wallis, who suddenly felt that his cigar and the +glass in front of him had been inappropriate. + +Mr Lechworthy’s fist descended solemnly on the table before him. +“True religion--that’s the only thing. I’ve kept it before me in my +business. I’ve tried to show that it is possible to treat the workman +as a brother, to consider his soul’s eternal salvation, and yet to make +a fair profit. I’ve dared to bring practical religion into journalism. +_The Morning Guide_ loses me so much every day, so much every year. +The money’s set aside for it--to produce a paper which will never +print a divorce case or an item of racing news--a paper in which every +_feuilleton_ clearly and distinctly enforces a good moral--a paper +which will be the sworn foe of this blatant self-styled imperialism. In +the House I venture to say that I belong to the religious party. You’ll +find little religion among the Conservatives--and what there is, is +largely tainted with ritualism. Unprofitable servant that I am, little +though I have done, I have at least kept my faith and carried it into +my life.” + +There were a few seconds of silence. Then somewhere at the back of the +saloon a fool of a servant opened a bottle of soda-water. It went off +with a loud and ironical pop. The gurgle of the fluid seemed to utter +a repeated tut-tut. But Mr Lechworthy was unperturbed. Gliding easily +into another subject, he began to talk about cameras. His book or +pamphlet, whichever it might be, was to be profusely illustrated. Mr +Wallis, an amateur photographer of some experience, was lavish with his +advice. Later, a possible title for the book was discovered. Mr Grice, +who had been a little sleepy, grew suddenly alert again and almost +disproportionately enthusiastic. “A magnificent and noble enterprise +that could only have occurred to yourself, Lechworthy,” was a phrase +that possibly overstated the facts. Tommy Burton slept peacefully--poor +Tommy Burton--much in love with Hilda Auriol and condemned to perpetual +cheerfulness and brotherhood. + + * * * * * + +Thus it happened that the schooner which Cyril Mast had sighted bore +with it to the island of Faloo Mr Lechworthy and his niece. He had +never intended to take Hilda with him at all, but then Hilda had +always intended to go. Faloo had never been part of his programme, and +all that the skipper could tell him about it was that it was wrongly +charted; but Hilda had caught a glimpse of it in the evening light and +decided that she must spend an hour or two there. It was immediately +discovered that the ship needed oranges and taro, and that Faloo might +as well provide them. Lechworthy still had a will of his own, but then +the captain knew so much more and Hilda cared so much more, and the +sweet content of the South Seas had settled down upon him. He had eaten +peach-flavoured bananas and he was learning the mango. The expressed +juice of the fresh lime, mingled with ice and soda-water, seemed to him +the best drink that had ever been found. As to the missions--well, he +was getting a general impression (which bothered him a little, because +it was not quite the impression that he had meant to get), and he would +fill in the bare facts later. He had taken many photographs and would +develop the rolls of film as soon as he could find the time--unless he +came upon somebody who would do them for him. + +At dawn the _Snowflake_ lay in a dead calm just outside the reef. Cyril +Mast took a good look at her. The snowy decks, the brilliant white +paint and the polished metal showing a hundred bright points of light +in the sunshine, told that this was no ordinary trader. Had the retreat +of the exiles been discovered at last? No, for the ship to come in that +case would be something sterner than this pretty toy. In a few minutes +he had changed his clothes; and now his collar, his necktie and his +waistcoat proclaimed his calling. He could manage a canoe excellently +himself--it was his favourite pastime when sober--but now his dignity +demanded that a couple of natives should propel him out through the +opening in the reef to the schooner’s side. The natives--as curious +as Mast--were eager for the work. At the moment the mad idea which +Mast subsequently carried out had not yet entered his head. All that +he wanted was to find out what the schooner was, and if possible to +get some break in the accursed monotony of his island life. He wanted, +pathetically, to exchange a few civilities with some white man who +did not know too much about him--to catch a glimpse of the outside +world that had been closed to him. That was why he wore the starched +dog-collar that was so uncomfortable, and the frayed black alpaca +jacket, and the waistcoat of clerical cut. He had not worn them for +ages; but he meant now, for an hour perhaps, to get back to the old +time, before certain events had made Faloo the only place in the world +for him. + +Already there were many natives on the beach, adorned with wreaths and +necklaces of flowers, wearing holiday clothes. It might be of course +that the schooner was merely waiting for a wind, but perhaps a boat +would come ashore and there would be much festivity. Possibly some +order had come to them from King Smith, for a few of the natives who +would have launched their canoes were restrained by the others; and the +two men who had taken Cyril Mast out did not attempt to go on board. Of +King Smith himself nothing was to be seen. The white men still slept +peacefully in their bedrooms at the club, or in their own houses. The +schooner was Cyril Mast’s own discovery; none of the others knew of its +arrival. + +On the deck of the _Snowflake_ Mr Lechworthy came forward with hand +outstretched. + +“I don’t know your name, sir,” he said, “but I am glad and proud to +meet you. Missionary enterprise is a subject in which I take the +deepest interest. My name’s Lechworthy--you may have come across it in +connection with my business.” + +Cyril Mast stammered his own name. He was astounded. He, the pariah, +the outcast, had been mistaken for a missionary. This man of wealth +and position was admiring his heroic self-sacrifice. And that beautiful +girl with the laughing eyes-- + +“Permit me, sir, to present you to my niece, Miss Auriol.” + +Miss Auriol took one glance at his pimply, blotchy complexion, and in +great charity remembered that there was a complaint called prickly heat +and that a prolonged sojourn in the tropics must be unhealthy for a +European. She chatted freely. They expected to sail again later in the +morning, but were sending a boat ashore to see if they could get some +fresh fruit. Her uncle and she had thought of going in the boat and +getting an hour, perhaps, in Faloo. + +As she spoke, Cyril Mast made up his mind. He would act the part that +had been given him. The deception could not be kept up for any length +of time, but it might be managed for one hour. It was simple enough +to call the club the mission-house. Few if any of the members would +be about at this hour, and he could manage to get breakfast served at +a table on the lawn outside the house. An hour in which to see this +beautiful English girl-- + +He found himself speaking rapidly. They must certainly come ashore and +have breakfast at the mission-house. His canoe would pilot their boat. +It would be the greatest pleasure for him to show them something of the +island. See, that was the mission-house there among the orange trees. + +Hilda Auriol and her uncle agreed that it looked charming; the +invitation was at once accepted. Preparations for their departure and +the arrangements for their return were made at once. Cyril Mast’s +canoe flew over the water, the schooner’s boat following. Speaking +partly in the native tongue and partly in English he explained to the +crowd on the beach that the ship was “Mikonaree.” He would take the +“Mikonaree” and his daughter up to the club, where they wished to go. +The others--they must entertain them as best they could--would be going +up to the stores to buy things and the King would direct what was to be +done. + +On their way up from the beach to the club-house Mr Lechworthy asked if +Mr Mast had been long on the island. + +“Four years.” + +“And never a holiday?” + +“No,” said Mast, who every moment felt more like a real missionary, +“no, I have needed no holiday.” + +“Rather lonely, I should think,” said Hilda. + +“Well, one has one’s work. There are other white men on the island +too--traders and planters. You may possibly see some of them up at the +mission-house.” + +Lechworthy began on the subject of his book--his projected work on the +missions of the South Seas. A native girl ran up with a necklace of +flowers for Hilda. Mast began to talk more easily and fluently, falling +into the part that had been assigned to him. He described King Smith, +that prodigy among natives, with accuracy and with some humour. He +was sketching the French Mission for his guests as they entered, with +exclamations of delight, the beautiful garden of the Exiles’ Club. +Somewhere at the back of his head Mast was wondering why King Smith had +not appeared. The arrival of a schooner constituted a great event. What +could he be doing? + +Just at present the King sat in his office, deep in thought. Another +event had happened which made the schooner’s arrival of comparatively +little importance in his eyes. It was the first sign that his power +might not hold back the native outbreak, and it had come before he +expected it. In the early morning, while it was still dark, the King +as he lay awake had heard a scream--brief, agonised. It seemed to be +fairly near--a hundred yards or so away. He had lighted a lantern and +searched the scrub at the back of the stores. There he had found the +dead body of a white man with a native knife sticking in his throat. +The white man was Duncombe, and no complaint against him had ever +reached the King’s ears. It was a private revenge, and might not end +there. + +The King decided and acted quickly. Already the body was buried out +of sight, covered with quicklime in a shallow grave. Hundreds of the +natives were in a state of angry ferment, held back by the King with +difficulty; if they saw that the first step had already been taken, +it would be impossible to hold them back at all. The King himself had +been the grave-digger and had kept his own counsel. Duncombe would be +missed at the Exiles’ Club that day. On the morrow his friends would +be anxiously searching for him. Meanwhile, the King would have found +out the assassin and would have used the strange gift with which +the natives credited him. He would talk to the man seriously in the +melodious native tongue, and say that he wished for his death. No other +step would be necessary. The man would go back to his hut, refuse food, +remain obstinately silent, and presently draw a cloth over his face and +die. In what way the death was caused the King could not have told you, +though once before he had used this gift. Modern science may choose +between an explanation by hypnotic suggestion, or a blunt denial of a +fact which has been credibly witnessed and reported. + +In a few days the strange disappearance of Duncombe would be forgotten. +The King felt sure that for a while at any rate no further provocation +would come from the white men. The natives would quiet down again, and +their King would be free to follow the line of his own ambitions. + +For the moment nothing else could be done. The King roused himself +and went out to look at the schooner. Word had already been brought +to him that this was not a trader. His interest was no more than +idle curiosity. He did not know that already there reclined in a +lounge-chair on the lawn of the Exiles’ Club the man for whom he had +been seeking. Lechworthy proposed to enjoy his hour or two in Faloo; +he also did not know. He did not know that he was destined to remain +in Faloo for days, and to meet with incidents that were but little +enjoyable. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The Rev. Cyril Mast left his guests for a few minutes on the lawn, +while he went into the club to order breakfast. The hour was early, but +not unusually early, and the Exiles’ Club never closed. For a few hours +after midnight the staff was much diminished, and only one of the white +servants was on duty, but even then a member could always get anything +he wanted. At least two-thirds of the members had bedrooms at the club. + +But to-day the club did not wear its air of morning freshness. The +soiled glasses and laden ash-trays of the night before were left still +on the little tables on the verandah and in the hall. Not enough +windows had been opened, and the sour smell of stale cigar-smoke +poisoned the place. Even the Rev. Cyril Mast, who was by no means +particular, noticed it. A reluctant native servant was sent to find +Thomas, and failed; a minute later Thomas arrived of his own volition +from the bedrooms, looking hurried and worried. His quick eye noticed +Mast’s clerical clothes. + +“I say, Thomas,” said Mast, “this place is in a hell of a mess.” + +“Yes, sir,” said Thomas, and gave a rapid order to two native servants. +“Very sorry, sir, but it’s all the schooner.” + +“How do you mean?” + +“It’s made so many of the gentlemen unusually early. Quite a little +excitement, when we first heard about it, sir. Seems it’s just a +chance visit from some missionary, but it’s meant more for us to do +here--gentlemen requiring baths and breakfasts. Three orders to give at +this moment.” + +“Do that first, and then I can talk.” + +“Thank you, sir,” said Thomas, and called down the speaking-tube. +“Drinking cokernut, large gin, ice and dry biscuit to Lord Charles. Got +that? Right. Tea and boiled eggs, Mr Bassett. Got that? Right. Those +two lots in the bedrooms at once. Coffee, two pork chops and stewed +pineapple to Mr Mandelbaum downstairs in twenty minutes. Yes, that’s +all. Now, sir, I’m ready.” + +“I have two guests from the schooner--one of them is a lady--and I want +breakfast for them in the garden. And, look here, Thomas, they’re here +for only an hour or so, and we’ve got business, and if possible I don’t +want to be interrupted by any of the gentlemen. Put the table in some +secluded corner. See?” + +“Certainly, sir. Sir John and Dr Soames Pryce are out already, sir, but +they will probably have gone to the beach, and I think there’s no other +gentleman down yet.” + +As they settled the details of the breakfast more windows were opened +and a strong, fresh breeze blew in from the sea. Under the eye of +Thomas the native servants moved more quickly and order began to be +restored. + +“You manage those beggars pretty well,” said Mast. + +But Thomas was pessimistic. Four gallons of methylated spirits had been +stolen from the club stores, and for the life of him he couldn’t find +out which of his boys had got it. It was his belief that the only man +who could really manage them was King Smith. + +The Rev. Cyril Mast had been careful to place chairs for his guests +where the orange-trees screened them from any view of the house. Mr +Lechworthy was perfectly contented to stay where he had been put. He +was quite happy, and he promised himself that presently he would +acquire valuable material for a sketch of a Protestant mission on one +of the smallest, the loneliest, and the most beautiful of the South Sea +islands. Meanwhile he had risen very early, and he had some ability for +the five-minute snooze. His head went back and the brim of his black +felt hat shaded his eyes. But Hilda Auriol had sighted a big parrot, +swaying on its perch in a patch of sunshine, and it was her wont to +make friends with all tame birds and beasts. + +She went up and spoke to the parrot. The bird gave a husky cough, +imitated the act of expectoration, and began to say the three worst +things it knew. Then it sat blinking and thinking in silence. As Hilda +passed the verandah, the French windows of the card-room were flung +wide open, and she caught one glimpse of it--precisely as it had been +left the night before. She returned and roused Mr Lechworthy. + +“There are at least sixteen missionaries here, uncle, which seems a +good many for such a small island. The sixteen play cards, drink, and +teach a parrot bad language. I don’t think I like them.” + +Mr Lechworthy was much startled. “What do you mean, my dear?” + +Hilda told him precisely what she had seen--the card-room with the four +tables, at all of which play had taken place, and the other tables +piled with glasses, gazogenes, and tiny decanters. She pointed out the +parrot, and once more the bird became clearly articulate and quite +reprehensible. + +“I cannot understand it,” said Mr Lechworthy. “The thing’s +incomprehensible. I must see into this--there may be something which +I shall have to put a stop to. I ought not to have brought you here, +Hilda. You must leave me and get back to the boat at once.” + +Hilda laughed. “Oh, no. We’ll see it through together. Here comes our +host.” + +“Well, he shall have his chance to explain. He spoke of other white +men--traders and planters. They may be responsible. It is impossible +to believe that a minister of the true religion would--No, he will +explain.” + +Hilda and her uncle went forward to meet Mast. They stood now in full +view of the house and close to the entrance to the garden. Mast was +voluble in his apologies. He was sorry to have kept them so long, but +he was afraid his native servants were not very intelligent. He feared +that breakfast would be rather primitive when it did arrive. But they +would have it in a spot from which one of the loveliest views in the +island could be obtained. + +Mr Lechworthy smiled pleasantly. He and his niece preferred to live +quite simply, and it was most kind of Mr Mast to entertain them in any +case. “While we are waiting for breakfast, perhaps you will show us the +mission-house. We should particularly like to see that--the church, +too, that you built for the natives.” + +Cyril Mast made three different excuses in three different sentences. +Lechworthy watched him narrowly, and drew one or two correct +conclusions. His pleasant smile vanished, and beneath their heavy brows +his eyes looked serious. + +And then Bassett’s curious little figure appeared on the verandah. He +had hurried through his breakfast and was hastening down to the beach +to find out what he could of the schooner. But he was scarcely outside +the doors before the wind, blowing now with increasing force, caught +up his big felt hat and whirled it into the bushes. Bassett chased +his hat, and for the moment did not notice the little group by the +orange-trees. But Lechworthy’s quick eye had already recognised him. + +“That man over there--is he also engaged in missionary work?” + +“Yes. In a sense, yes,” stammered Mast. “He--” + +“It will be interesting to talk to him about it. I happen to know him, +and I will call him. Bassett!” + +Bassett was startled and turned sharply. He came very slowly across +the lawn, much as a dog comes to his master for punishment. What on +earth was Lechworthy doing in Faloo? Was he, too, flying from justice? +That would explain the arrival of the schooner and the fact that he +was evidently on friendly terms with Cyril Mast. But Bassett had to +put that notion aside. Knowing Lechworthy, he knew that it was not +possible. And Bassett was very much afraid. What did Lechworthy mean +to do? Well, he must put the best face on it he could. A defence that +would be torn to rags in court might seem plausible enough in Faloo. + +“Good-morning, Mr Lechworthy,” said Bassett. “This is a great surprise. +Morning, Mast.” + +“Bassett,” said Lechworthy, “Mr Mast, whom I had not met before, +brought us here from my schooner. He has told me that you are +associated with him in his missionary work here. Now you, Bassett, I +have met many times before, and I know your history.” + +But it was not Bassett who answered; it was Cyril Mast, whose face was +white and twitched curiously. + +“This is my fault, Mr Lechworthy,” said Mast. “I had not meant to +represent myself to you as a missionary. But you made the mistake, and +I was tempted to go on with it.” + +“Yes,” said Lechworthy, quietly. “I don’t think I see why. You hardly +seem to be enjoying a practical joke.” + +“Don’t you? For four years I have not spoken with a decent white man +or woman. We are all the same here--and we’re here because there’s +no other place left. If you had known about me--the truth about +me--you would not have spoken to me at all. That’s all. Don’t ask me +any questions, please. I’m going to leave you now. Get back to the +schooner at once; any of the natives on the beach will find a canoe for +you.” + +Without a word to Bassett Mast raised his hat and turned away. He went +up the steps of the verandah and into the club-house. + +“I think,” said Hilda, “that his advice is good. It’s blowing hard now, +and the _Snowflake_ can’t lie where she is--with the reef on her lee.” + +“Yes, my dear, we will go. But I must have a few words with Mr Bassett +in private. Go on ahead of us a little.” + +And now Bassett found his tongue. “You must not pay any attention to +what Mast said, Mr Lechworthy. Mast is a good fellow, but he suffers +from fits of morbid depression in which he believes himself to have +done horrible things--the life here is very lonely, you know--no +amusements of any kind--nobody to speak to.” + +Lechworthy thought of the card-tables. “Bassett,” he said, “it’s not +about Mast but about yourself that I wish to speak. Many have looked +for you and have not found you. I have found you unwittingly--I think +because I was sent to find you. You are a thief, Bassett. You are a +murderer, for one of those poor women whose property you stole took +her own life.” + +“I am absolutely innocent, Mr Lechworthy. I have a complete +explanation. You--should be careful, sir. I have seen men shot dead on +this island for saying less than you have said to me.” + +“Do not try to frighten me, Bassett. I am ready for death when God +wills, and death will come no sooner than that. You are coming back +home with me, Bassett. You’ve fled to the far corner of the earth, and +it’s no use; your sin has found you out. You are coming back to take +your trial, and, if need be, your punishment. Do that, and I will help +you by all the means in my power. I will help you to make your peace +with man and to something better--your peace with God. It’s the one way +to happiness. You’ll find no way here. Turn back for nothing. Come now, +this moment.” + +Even as he spoke Bassett had made his plan. Hilda, a few yards in front +of them, turned round. “Which way?” she called. + +“The little track to the right, if you please,” called Bassett, “it’s +the shortest.” Then he turned to Lechworthy. “I will come,” he said. +“I put myself in your hands unreservedly.” + +The little track to the right was very narrow and led through thick +scrub, damp and odorous with the scent of the frangipani bushes. Hilda, +well on ahead, fought her way through a tangle of lianas. Behind her +came Lechworthy, crouching and going gingerly, serenely happy. Behind +him at a little distance came Bassett, his hat under his arm, sweating +profusely, the revolver which he had taken out from his pocket held +clumsily in his shaking right hand. + +And some way behind Bassett, going far faster than any of them, and +unseen by any of them, came the lithe figure of King Smith. + +Just as Bassett fired the King’s club came down heavily on his head. +Hilda turned with a cry, as she heard the report, and struggled back +again to her uncle. Mr Lechworthy had at last found a place where he +could stand upright and ease his aching back. He held his black felt +hat in his hand, and examined the bullet-hole in the rim with a mild, +inquiring benevolent eye. + +“You are not hurt, uncle?” + +“Not in the least, my dear, thanks to this gentleman.” + +“Get up,” said King Smith to Bassett. + +Dazed, rubbing his sore head with one hand, Bassett staggered to his +feet. He looked from one to the other bewildered. In this wind, that +gave a voice to every bush, he had not heard the approach of King +Smith. And now his revolver lay on the ground, and the King’s foot was +on it, and it was the King who spoke in a way that Bassett had not +heard before. + +“I have finished with you. Go where you like and do what you like. And +a little before midnight you will die.” + +It was the definite sentence of death, and Bassett knew it. +Half-stunned as he was, he could still lie and make a defence. + +He began an explanation. He had taken out the revolver to draw the +cartridges and stumbled. The thing was a pure accident. But of course +King Smith was not in earnest. He could not sentence a white man to +death like that. He would be elected to the white men’s club in a few +days. The white men were his partners in business, and-- + +The King cut him short. “It is to the King and not to the trader that +you speak now,” he said, as he picked up Bassett’s revolver. “Do not +compel me to shoot you where you stand. It is better that you should +have a few hours to arrange your affairs. Shortly before midnight, +remember.” + +Bassett turned away in silence. Certainly the white men would act +together and stop an outrage of this kind. He must see Sir John and Dr +Pryce at once. + +The King was transformed immediately from a stern judge into a +courteous man. He made many apologies to Lechworthy. He brought news +from the _Snowflake_, from which he had just returned. The wind had got +up so suddenly that there had been no time to send for Lechworthy; the +schooner had run for the lee of the island. + +“I think, Mr Lechworthy, that the English have a proverb that it is an +ill wind which blows nobody any good. I confess that I am very glad to +get this opportunity of speaking with you. You can help us very much +in this island if you will. Of course my palace in the interior will +be entirely at the disposal of yourself and your niece. A guard will +be placed there, and I can guarantee your personal safety. I will do +my best for your comfort. And in a day or two, when the hurricane has +blown itself out, you shall go on your way again if you will.” + +“We owe you our lives, sir,” said Mr Lechworthy with some dignity. “And +now we must thank you for your hospitality as well. It is as though God +had sent you to save us. We shall come to you willingly and with the +utmost gratitude.” + +“Yes, indeed,” said Hilda. + +“Perhaps,” said the King, “you will do me a greater service than +anything I am able to do for you. Now, if you will follow me back to +the next clearing, some of my people will be waiting for us.” + +“There’s just one thing,” said Hilda, hesitatingly. She had never +spoken to a King before, and she was rather shy about it. + +“Yes?” said the King, smiling. “The schooner? It will be quite safe.” + +“I’m afraid,” said Hilda, “that I meant--er--clothes.” + +“I foresaw that,” said the King. “Everything in that way that could be +got together in the few minutes that we had to spare has already been +brought ashore in my canoes. If there is anything further that you +would like, another canoe will go out to the schooner as soon as it is +practicable.” + +“Thanks so much,” said Hilda, fervently. + +They retraced their steps to the clearing, for the path by which +Bassett had taken them led only into the scrub. Many natives were in +waiting, full of smiles and excitement. To one group after another the +King gave rapid yet careful directions. Some sped inland and others +down to the beach. Presently some twenty of the native boys were racing +on bicycles up the road to the King’s house. Soon only two of the +natives remained, two girls of surpassing beauty, chosen by the king +from many aspirants. The King turned to Hilda. + +“Miss Auriol, these two girls wish to be your friends, and to do +everything that you want while you are on the island. They will be in +attendance upon you while you are at my house, if you will let them +come. They are of my kin, and they speak a little English. If you will +have them, you will make them very happy.” + +Hilda had already been watching the girls with frank admiration. “Oh, +yes, please,” she said eagerly. “There is nothing I should have liked +better.” + +Tiva and Ioia flew to her side at once. Hilda made in them pleasant +discoveries of shyness, _naïveté_, curiosity, the utmost friendliness, +and a delicious sense of humour. Their questions were many and amazing, +their broken English made her laugh, and their laughter echoed her own. +Even in the short descent to the beach, these fascinating people made +her forget how near she had been to tragedy. The beautiful island of +Faloo that had begun to be dark and hateful to her took up its charm +again. + +Behind the group of girls walked Mr Lechworthy in placid converse with +the King. + +“Events happen quickly here,” said Lechworthy. “A bogus missionary--a +meeting with an absconding solicitor, whom I knew in his better +days--an attempt to murder me--my escape, for which I thank you, sir, +and, unhappily, the sentence of death.” He hesitated, and then ventured +to point out that in England an attempt to murder was punished less +severely. + +To the ignorant native the English practice seemed to be illogical and +to put a premium on bad shooting. But he did not raise this point. He +said that he had never pronounced sentence on a white man before, +though the white men in his island had done much wrong. This was not +the only offence that Bassett had committed, and it was necessary that +he should die. “Here, you see, I am the King and the law--and my island +is not England. It is all different. You will see later.” + +There was a pause, and then the King said, “I already know something +of you, Mr Lechworthy. I read your speeches at the time of the South +African war, and an article about you which appeared a year or more +ago in a paper called the _Spectator_. I have your pamphlet about +Setton Park, and I have many copies of the _Morning Guide_ containing +articles signed by you. I cannot tell you with what joy I found it was +you that the _Snowflake_ had brought. You, perhaps more than any other +Englishman, can help us here.” + +“Every minute, sir, I become more surprised. Here, many hundreds of +miles from civilisation, I find a native king who speaks English like +an Englishman, procures and reads the English papers, even knows +something of such a seventh-rate politician and busy-body as myself. +But, sir, with the best will in the world to help you in any way that +my conscience permits, I don’t see what I am to do.” + +“If you are kind enough to permit me to dine with you to-night, I will +explain everything.” + +They had reached the beach, and once more the King changed the subject. + +“You breakfasted at the Exiles’ Club? No? I thought perhaps that might +be so. Well, it is all ready here.” The King led the way to a broad +balcony of his unofficial residence, well sheltered from the wind. “You +will be more comfortable at my house inland--here there is not much.” + +Certainly, the plates and cups were of various patterns and had seen +service; the forks and spoons were not coated with a precious metal, +and the use of the Union Jack as a cloth to the low breakfast-table +could only be excused by those who saw that a compliment was intended. +But Mr Lechworthy drank the best coffee he had met in the islands, and +devoured in blind faith delicious fruits of which he did not even know +the names. “Also very good,” he murmured at every fresh experiment. +King Smith had business needing his attention elsewhere, and it was +Tiva and Ioia who waited upon his guests. Nominally these two girls +did not breakfast, but Tiva ate sugar when she happened to come across +it, and Ioia drank coffee out of Hilda’s cup when Hilda had finished +with it. In the intervals they learned the word “Hilda,” and exchanged +the story of the robber-crab for hints on hair-dressing. Of their own +toilette they spoke with an innocent freedom, utterly open-air and +natural, which to some European girls might have been disconcerting. +But Hilda had picked up the right point of view, an invaluable +possession to the traveller anywhere. She had talked and played with +native girls in Tahiti and other islands, but she had found nothing so +charming as Tiva and Ioia. + +“When shall we go on to the palace?” Hilda asked. + +“Sometime--plenty quick,” said Tiva. The answer was not precise; but +then to Tiva the question was idle, for what on earth does time matter? + +“I wonder,” said Mr Lechworthy, “if you could tell us anything about +this palace? It must be an interesting place.” + +Mr Lechworthy inspired the girls with some awe. It was quite clear to +them that he was a very great chief indeed, and possibly King Edward +VII. Never before had King Smith received any white man in this way. +Wherefore Tiva hid her face in Hilda’s shoulder. Ioia said thoughtfully +that the palace was a “plenty-plenty big house.” She had thoughts of +adding a few picturesque inventions--it was so hard for her not to give +everybody everything they wanted--but she refrained. It subsequently +transpired, in talk with Hilda, that neither Tiva nor Ioia had ever +seen the King’s official residence. It stood in a big garden, hidden by +trees, and the whole place had been taboo to all native women. A few of +the native men had charge of it, and no one else had been allowed to +enter. This would be changed now. Tiva and Ioia were to reside there as +long as Hilda remained, and it was clear that they looked forward with +delight to this privilege and, possibly, to the satisfaction of their +curiosity. + +King Smith himself announced that all was now ready for the drive to +his house in the interior. There were two light, well-built buggies, +with island ponies harnessed to them. Hilda and her two attendants +went in the first vehicle, followed by the King and Mr Lechworthy. +The luggage had already gone on, borne on the heads of natives. The +drive was along a wide, white-powdered road, bordered on either side by +groves of palms. Glorious bougainvilleas made streams and splashes of +colour. The tall utu scattered its graceful plumes of rose and white. +Sheltered though the road was, the travellers could hear the roar of +the wind, and now and then a soft thud, as a nut heavily-husked thumped +to the ground. + +As they went, the King told Lechworthy all that he wished to know about +the Exiles’ Club. + +“But how can you permit it, sir--this lazar-house, this refuge for the +worst scum of Europe polluting your beautiful kingdom?” + +“I have not only permitted it, I have even--in vain--tried to become a +member of the club. I have done even worse. My friend, if a man wishes +to escape from a prison, he will use good tools, if he has them, to +break through the walls. And if he has not good tools, he will use +anything that comes to his hand--rusty iron, old nails, anything. And +he will use them even if they hurt his hand and put a festering wound +in it.” + +“Yes, sir, I see what you mean. I will not judge hastily. To-night, I +think you said--” + +“To-night I tell you everything. You will find much to condemn, much +that is hateful to you. But you love liberty and you will help my +people in spite of all. Then I shall no longer need the bad tools, and +I shall put them down. And as for the festering wound in my hand, I +shall burn it with a little gunpowder and in time it will be made whole +again.” + +Lechworthy, watching him as he spoke, was conscious that he had found +here a master among men, clear in purpose, indomitable in pursuit of +it. But where was the man’s Christianity? What were his political +purposes? Was there no danger in being drawn into them? Well, that +night he would see. He had already found that the King could be +inexorable, and that it seemed impossible to procure postponement of +the execution of Bassett even by one single hour. + +Bassett himself was horribly frightened, but he did not believe that +the sentence of death would be carried out. For the moment King Smith +was angry; later in the day Bassett would see him again, or would get +Sir John to do it for him. He would persist, of course, that the shot +was accidental. Besides, King Smith might be pleased to say that he did +not speak as a trader, but he still was a trader, and on the trader +the members of the Exiles’ Club could bring very stringent and serious +pressure to bear. If the King still persisted--well, it was easy enough +for him to pronounce sentence, but he would find it impossible to carry +it out. + +In the hall of the club Mr Bassett found the Rev. Cyril Mast and Lord +Charles Baringstoke. The latter was shivering in pale blue pyjamas and +an ulster; he had not yet bathed, neither had he brushed his yellow +hair. The two men were getting on well with a bottle of doubtful +champagne. + +“Hullo, Mr damned Bassett,” said his lordship. “You’ve got a lot of +blood on your collar. Somebody been crackin’ your egg for you?” + +Bassett took no notice of him. He turned upon Mast and swore hard at +him. So choked was he with rage that he could hardly articulate. He +repeated himself over and over again. Had Mast gone clean out of his +mind? What had he done it for? What had he brought Lechworthy there +for? Lechworthy of all people! He stormed and spluttered his abuse. + +“Lechworthy was my guest and you can mind your own business,” said +Mast, sullenly, and refilled his glass. “If you swear at me again, I’ll +hit you.” + +“My business?” screamed Bassett--but he did not swear this time. “Why, +wait till you’ve heard. We’re done--every man of us--and all the result +of your folly. You haven’t seen King Smith, but I have--and he means to +take my life to-night. Oh, what’s the good of talking to you boozers? +Where’s Pryce? Where’s Sir John?” + +“Ask the waiter,” said Mast. + +“Look here, old friend, I’ll tell you. Pryce and Sir John went out +to find Duncombe,” said Lord Charles. “Duncombe’s been stopping out +all night. Naughty, naughty! And won’t he catch it from Sir Jonathan +Gasbags? Jaw, jaw, jaw! Lordy, I had some of it yesterday! I say, +Bassett, has anything really been happening? Because, if so, I should +like to be in it. Why, there they are!” + +Sir John and Dr Soames Pryce entered from the verandah. Mast and +Bassett both began to speak at once, angrily and in a high voice. Lord +Charles Baringstoke gave a quite good imitation of a north-country +pitman encouraging a dog-fight. The noise was terrific. Members came +out from the reading-room to see what was happening. Servants paused on +the stairs to watch. + +Sir John’s walking-cane came down with a crack on the table before him. +“Silence!” he roared. And he got it. + +“Now then,” he said severely, “is this a club or a bear-garden? +You--members of the committee--behaving like this? Now, Mr Bassett. +Now, sir, I’ll hear you first. And don’t shout, please.” + +“A most serious thing has happened, Sir John. I fear that we’re done +for. I must see you and Dr Pryce in private about it. And the whole +thing’s due to the damned folly of this man Mast.” + +The champagne bottle whizzed past his head, missing him by a +hair’s-breadth and smashing on the opposite wall. Mast would have +followed up the attack, but he met a quick fist with the weight of Dr +Pryce behind it; the lounge-chair on which he fell collapsed under him, +and he lay sprawling on the floor. + +“You all seem very excited,” said Dr Pryce, cheerfully. “I would +suggest, Sweetling, that you and Mr Bassett go off to his room, and +I’ll join you there in a minute.” + +“Very well,” said Sir John. “Come on, Mr Bassett. This must be +discussed quietly.” + +“Get up, old cockie,” said Dr Pryce, extending a hand to Mast. “Made +up your mind to bring disgrace on the cloth this morning, haven’t you? +You’ve been drinking too much. Go and lie down for a bit--you can’t +stand it, you know.” + +“You’re a good chap, Pryce,” said Mast. “Perhaps I can stand it and +perhaps I can’t. But I’m going on with it for this day anyhow. Thomas, +I say, where’s Thomas?” + +“Go to the devil your own way then,” said Pryce, and followed Sir John +and Mr Bassett. + +Lord Charles Baringstoke turned to the on-lookers. “Seem very cross, +don’t they?” he said. “Now is anybody going to stand me one little +brandy before I go up to bathe my sinful body?” + +In the secretary’s room Bassett’s story was told at length. Sir John +listened to it with gravity and Dr Soames Pryce with a sardonic +smile. In the main Bassett stuck to the facts, but he lied when he +said that Mast was drunk when he brought Lechworthy to the club. “I +left Lechworthy with King Smith, and he can’t have got back to the +_Snowflake_. So I suppose that he’s with the King now.” + +“Most likely,” said Sir John, drumming on the table with his nails. +“See, Pryce? Remember what I said? Well, the King’s got into touch at +last. Lord knows what Lechworthy was doing here, though.” + +“Yes,” said Pryce. “That is so. The illustrious visitor will stop at +His Majesty’s official residence. That is why we met that gang of boys +cycling up there.” + +“It was the worst of luck,” whined Bassett. “If King Smith hadn’t come +up just at that moment I should have saved the situation. You see that, +of course.” + +“No, I don’t,” said Sir John. + +“Bassett, my poor friend,” said Dr Pryce, “you’ve made every possible +blunder. I can’t think of one that you’ve left out. I’m not going to +argue about it, but it is so. So don’t brag about saving situations.” + +“You express my own opinion,” said Sir John. “And the consequences of +your blunders, Bassett, are likely to be serious.” + +“Anyhow, the consequences are serious. The most serious of all is that +my life is threatened.” + +Dr Pryce laughed. + +“You’ll pardon us if we don’t think so,” said Sir John. “But you can +cheer up, Bassett. Threatened men sometimes live long. Remain in the +club. It will be well guarded to-night. Every precaution will be taken. +Smith simply can’t get at you--short of a general attack on the white +men by the natives, and he won’t risk that. It wouldn’t suit his book +at all just now. Meanwhile, you appeal to Lechworthy.” + +“Surely he’s the last man in the world to--” + +“He’s the only man who’s likely to have much influence with King Smith +just now, and he won’t approve of irregular executions. If he asks to +be allowed to take you back to England, he’ll probably get you. And +it’s better to go than to die--also, you can probably give him the slip +somewhere or other on the way.” + +“Yes,” said Bassett, rubbing his chin. “There’s that. There’s always +that.” + +“Look here, Bassett,” said Dr Pryce, suddenly, “we shall want four +or five good men to patrol outside from sunset to midnight--sober men +who can shoot and know when to shoot--Hanson and Burbage are the right +type. Go now and find them.” + +“I’ll do it at once. Shall I bring them here?” + +“No. Just get their names. I’ll talk to them later.” + +“And, I say, wouldn’t it be a good thing if we elected King Smith a +member now?” + +“Might as well offer a mad buck-elephant a lump of sugar. You go and +find those men.” + +“Now,” said Dr Pryce, as soon as Bassett had gone. + +“Smith will tell Lechworthy everything. Lechworthy goes home with our +names in his pocket. Therefore he must not go home.” + +“Certainly. Nor must other people go home with similar information.” + +“They must not,” said Sir John. “Therefore we must get a man on board +the _Snowflake_. That ship must be lost with crew and passengers. Our +man may be able to save himself or he may not. It’s a devilish risky +business. Still, money will tempt people.” + +“I wouldn’t trust a paid man on that job,” said Pryce. He reflected +a minute. “My lot’s thrown in with the sinners. Tell you what, +Sweetling--I’ll do it myself.” + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The societies that are to be permanent grow without plan, much as a +coral island grows. The schemed Utopia never lives; it leaves no room +for compromise and becomes pot-bound; it guards with wise foresight +against numberless events which never happen, and the unforeseen event +blows in upon it and kills it. + +The Exiles’ Club had never been planned at all. The first of its +members to arrive at Faloo--Sir John Sweetling--had not the slightest +intention of starting such a club. He was a man of considerable ability +and he had been clever enough to see that the smash of his tangled +operations was inevitable, and that any defence would be wasted +speciousness. Recalling to himself a voyage which he had once made +as a young man, he left before the smash came and while he still had +considerable means at his disposal, even if he had no legal claim upon +them. A chance of that early voyage had shown him Faloo, and it was +his intention to lie concealed in Faloo for two or three years and then +under a different name to resume his business career in San Francisco. + +He found himself hospitably received by the priests of a small French +mission and by the King of the island. With the former he never became +on intimate terms, and he took occasions to tell them more than once +that he was by education and conviction a member of the Church of +England. But he found the King interesting--in his ambitions and +energetic character, as well as in his education and appearance, +totally unlike any island native of whom Sir John had ever heard. + +Sir John noted, too, that the island had considerable natural +resources, and that these were capable of development; labour was in +any case cheap and plentiful, and, if he worked in with the King, +forced labour would also be available. The King was a poor man, owning +nothing but the land which he had inherited, within sight of wealth but +unable to reach it for want of the knowledge and capital without which +it was impossible to trade. Sir John had always assimilated quickly and +eagerly any kind of business knowledge, and he had picked up a good +deal of useful information about the island trade; his capital was safe +and at his command. Before long he had entered into a partnership with +the King, and had purchased from him land and plantations in one of the +most delightful spots in the island. + +Of natural and inherent vice Sir John had very little. Crimes of +violence and passion were distasteful to him. A love of money and +position had drawn him gradually into a career of gross and abominable +fraud, but it is doubtful if he ever saw it as fraud himself--technical +error, committed with the best intentions, is how he would have +characterised it. In the days of his prosperity at home he had been +rather a generous man. A church in a London suburb boasted a pulpit of +coloured marble, which had been the gift of Sir John Sweetling, and +the munificence of the donor had been the subject of a complimentary +reference in a sermon; nor would it be safe to say that at the time he +made this presentation, though it was practically paid for with stolen +money, he was altogether a hypocrite. He loved decency and order. He +was always anxious that the proper form should be observed. He loathed +that slackness of fibre which leads men to unshaven chins or made-up +neckties. His orderly characteristics remained fairly constant, even in +a soft and enervating climate, although in other respects, as we have +already seen, circumstances and the Exiles’ Club considerably modified +him. At the time of his arrival at Faloo he did not realise that he was +cornered. He prepared a return to the outside world. + +He was soon convinced that not in two or in twenty years would it +be safe for him to show himself. He had trusted friends in England +who knew at least where letters could be addressed to him, and they +kept him informed. At his own request he was sent copies of what +the Press had to say about his disappearance. He read it all with +amazement and with extreme but temporary depression. These writers, it +seemed to him, were actuated by spite and expressed themselves with +virulence. They ignored facts which should have told, more or less, +in his favour. They credited him with no honest desire to restore +money, had his speculations been more successful. They put the worst +constructions on these “technical” lapses. In the case of a prospectus +they seemed to be unable to distinguish between deliberate lies and an +overstatement incidental to a sanguine temperament. He had never said +to himself, “Let us steal this money”; he had merely said, “Let us +make this investment look as attractive as we can.” And does not every +tradesman try to make his goods look attractive? Is there any close and +ungarnished accuracy about the ordinary advertisement? Sir John felt +angry and sore at the view which had been taken; but he put his San +Francisco scheme aside. + +And then gradually were interwoven the cords which bound him to Faloo +for ever. Two men, who had been personal friends of Sir John’s and +associated with him in business, skipped their bail and joined him +at Faloo. It was natural and convenient that the three men should +live together, and their house was the nucleus of the building which +afterwards became the Exiles’ Club. Through them came a further +widening of the circle. The secret was kept for the discreet, and +among them was a city solicitor. He knew when to talk about it. He had +among his clients families of the highest respectability, and all such +families have their black sheep. The Colonies might prove inhospitable +and America too inquisitive, but there was always Faloo--for people who +could afford to get there and to live there. To Sir John belonged the +prestige of the explorer and pioneer; it was to him that the new-comer +came for advice, and occasionally for investment. Sir John sold part +of his interest in the island trade to a syndicate, and part of his +land to the white community, taking in each case such profit as his +conscience allowed. His abilities, too, were admitted. He was a born +organiser. It pleased and amused him to undertake the work of providing +European luxuries in an almost unknown island hundreds of miles from +anywhere. His judgment was unerring in welcoming any desirable addition +to the fraternity and in arranging for the speedy deportation of the +undesirable. Men with no money or education were as a rule excluded. +“We want gentlemen here,” said Sir John, and struck the right note at +once. But he saw the usefulness of that ex-waiter from the Cabinet +Club, and Thomas had no trouble in making good his position on the +island. + +The position of director and adviser rather pleased Sir John; the +position of President of the Exiles’ Club pleased him far more and +sealed him to Faloo. It was a chance suggestion which led to the +formation of the club. Six men sat over their Sauterne and oysters one +evening and listened to the music of the surf. Presently one of them +(nobody afterwards remembered which one) said, “Sort of little club of +exiles, ain’t we?” + +There was a moment’s pause, and then Sir John, already with a foretaste +of the presidential manner, said, “Well, gentlemen, it rests with you. +I’m ready to put my money down if you others are. The thing can be +done, and done well. Club-house and grounds, decent service, everything +comfortable and in order. Why not?” + +They discussed it during the greater part of that night, and they all +worked very hard at it during the month that followed, planning and +superintending the construction of the only two-storied building on the +island. Sir John had always been a great gardener, and Blake, one of +the earliest arrivals, had made a hobby of his workshop. The special +knowledge proved very useful. Sir John was told that English turf was +impossible. “We shall have our lawn just the same,” said Sir John. And +ultimately, at great trouble and expense, they did have it. + +The club never had any other President than Sir John. If Smith, as the +white men called him, was the hereditary king of the natives, Sir John +was by common consent the symbol of authority for the white men. Lord +Charles Baringstoke had not a respectful manner, and frequently alluded +to Sir John Sweetling as Jonathan Gasbags, but he would never have +dreamed of opposing his annual re-election to the presidency. + +Customs grew as convenience demanded, and rules were made as they +were wanted. The rules were kept almost invariably by every member +of the club; a reprimand from Sir John was sufficient to prevent the +repetition of any lapse, and the feeling of the majority of members +was always against the transgressor. At first sight this may seem +extraordinary. There was but one man in the club who was not wanted by +the police. It included men like Lord Charles Baringstoke, who did not +possess, and never had possessed, any moral sense. There were others, +like Cyril Mast, who had killed what was good in them and become +slaves to the most ignoble indulgences. There were members who seemed +for ever on the verge of an outbreak of maniacal violence, and there +were some who were at times sunk in a suicidal melancholy. It might +have been foretold that such a club would be doomed to destruction by +the riot and rebellion of its own members. But that forecast would have +proved incorrect. + +It is, after all, a commonplace that when anarchy has removed all +existing laws and government, the construction of a fresh government +and new laws will next have to occupy its attention. Those who had +rebelled against an elaborate legal system, bore with patience the +easier yoke which was devised for their own special needs, and often at +their own suggestion and instigation, in the island of Faloo. Too high +an ideal was not set for them. Every form of gambling was permitted, +except gambling on credit. Among the exiles there was neither bet nor +business unless the money was in sight. Intoxication was frequent with +some of the members, and was not condemned, but it was recognised +that its propriety was a matter of time and place. As ritual survives +religion, etiquette survives morality, and no member of the Exiles’ +Club would have committed the offence of tipping a club servant; nor +would he have stormed at a waiter however bad the service might have +been, but would simply have backed his bill. There was no definite rule +against profanity, and its use was common enough, but there were two or +three men in the club--one of them murdered his own mother--in whose +presence the rest kept a certain check on their tongues. The principle +was generally accepted that the life of a member, so far as it +concerned other members, began with his arrival at Faloo. Confidences +were not sought; if, as rarely happened, they were volunteered they +were not welcomed, lest they should demand confidences in return. +Briefly, the men, troubled no longer with a complex civilisation, had +made for themselves their simple conditions of life, and such law as +was involved by those conditions they respected. + +Two other considerations made for the permanence and well-being of the +club. Few of its members were habitual criminals; they were mostly men +who had ruined their lives with one thing, and in other matters had +been normally respectable, and even over the worst men in the club +the climate seemed to exercise a curiously quieting and mollifying +influence. Secondly, it was very generally realised that Faloo was the +last station, the jumping-off place. There was nothing beyond it, and +there was no other chance. + +Sir John had already stated at the election meeting some of the reasons +which bound him to Faloo. It may be added that he thoroughly enjoyed +his position. The society in which he lived was small, but it held +itself to be the superior society of the island, and it bestowed on him +the first place. He had been the great man of his suburb, and he found +it to be almost equally satisfactory to be the great man of Faloo. The +exploitation of a native king was work which was quite to his taste, +and at the same time it was easy work. Shrewd and educated though the +King was, he showed himself quite native, and pathetically ignorant at +first in matters of business. Sir John had but to say that this or that +was common form, or the usual European practice, and the King accepted +it at once. But the King learned quickly, and at a later period he had +about taken Sir John’s measure, as Sir John himself was aware. + +Nor had Sir John any delusions about his fellow-members. His manner was +genial; he would gamble and drink (in moderation) with the sinners. But +in his heart he despised most of them. They had never had the great +idea and the Napoleonic collapse. Their weakness and not their strength +had been their ruin. It was not their mind but their body that had run +away with them. Sir John had not lived the life of an ascetic, far from +it, but his tastes were in favour of a decent reserve and a sufficient +moderation. From no man will the slave of the flesh receive more hearty +contempt than from the man of the world; and in the difficult task of +his reclamation it may be that the sneer of the worldling has sometimes +effected more than the tears of the spiritual. + +Yet even in his contempt for many of his fellow-members he found +some source of gratification. He liked to wonder where on earth they +would have been without him, and to feel his sense of responsibility +increased. From their depth he could contemplate with the more +satisfaction his own eminence. + +But there were a few members whom Sir John could regard with more +respect. Bassett, for instance, had worked admirably for the club, +and had shown something of Sir John’s own talent for organisation. He +had now lost his head in a crisis and acted, Sir John considered, like +a fool. However, he would get a good scare--Sir John doubted if the +King had really intended more than that--and would not be likely to +act on impulse again. Then there was Hanson, a quiet man and an ardent +chess-player. He had character and ability, and Sir John hoped that he +would one day replace the Rev. Cyril Mast on the committee. Mast had +a gift for public speaking, and owed his election to it, but Sir John +found him quite useless. Probably the man whom Sir John liked most, +respected most, trusted most and understood least was Dr Pryce. + +The men were as different as possible. Dr Pryce had never shown the +slightest interest in the working of the syndicate which financed +Smith, although he was a member of it. He had been approached by Sir +John on the subject, had put down his money without inquiry, and +apparently had never thought about the subject again. In an ordinary +way Sir John would have taken this as evidence that the man was a +fool, but Pryce’s rather various abilities could not be doubted. The +doctor’s contempt for vain assumption sometimes wounded Sir John, who +habitually called his own vain assumptions by prettier names. Pryce +never pretended to be any better than his fellow-members, nor had +he that not uncommon form of perverted vanity which made a man like +Mast pretend sometimes to be the greatest of sinners. Sir John had +a sufficiency of physical courage for ordinary uses, but Pryce had +shown himself on many occasions to be absolutely reckless of his own +life. This had occurred not only in such forms of sport as the island +afforded, but more frequently in the practice of his science; the +island offered drugs that were not in the pharmacopœia, and Pryce, +in his enthusiastic study of them, did not stop short at experiments +upon himself. It was a great thing, Sir John felt, to have an able and +qualified doctor in the club, and with his customary generosity he +suggested that a consignment of drugs and apparatus from London for the +doctor should be charged to the club account. Pryce replied that his +little box of rubbish was paid for already, and changed the subject. + +The present crisis in the club’s affairs brought out strongly the +changes in Sir John’s character. The cornered rat was showing fight. +Sir John contemplated the destruction of the _Snowflake_ and all aboard +her without the faintest feeling of remorse. But Pryce’s careless offer +to undertake the work did not satisfy him. + +The man who scuttled the _Snowflake_ in mid-ocean would probably be +committing suicide; Sir John had no doubt about that. And Pryce was too +valuable to lose. Why, Sir John himself might be taken ill at any time. +There was a queer form of island fever, as to which he was nervous. The +King himself had suffered from it. + +And on further consideration Sir John doubted the feasibility of the +scheme. By this time Lechworthy probably knew all about the Exiles’ +Club, and would see for himself the danger that he represented to them; +Bassett’s attempt to murder him would have illuminated the question. +Under the circumstances it was unlikely that he would allow any member +of the club on board the _Snowflake_, unless possibly his religious +feelings were involved and that member played the part of a repentant +and converted sinner. And Sir John knew that Pryce would not do that. + +“We’ll think about it, Pryce,” he said finally. “There may be some +other way. Something may turn up.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The King’s house was built bungalow fashion. The rooms were large and +lofty, and opened on to a broad verandah; the furniture was scanty +but sufficient, and much of it was of native workmanship; only in the +bedrooms did the Auckland-imported suites reign supreme. The walls were +hung with printed cloths or matting woven in intricate and elaborate +designs. In every room banks of flowers gave audacious but splendid +colour, and young palms yielded a cool green relief. The garden was +not less lovely because many of its natural features had been left +unaltered. The little stream that leaped from the crag into the pool +twelve feet below had fallen, just there and just so, long before +the exiles had come to Faloo, long before the King’s grandfather had +died--of alcohol and excessive passions. The white paths curved and +twisted through innumerable shrubberies, and lost themselves in deep +cool shade. Here and there were broad stretches of tufty unmown grass, +and long hedges of hibiscus aflame with scarlet. + +Hilda was principally fascinated by all that was native. The extremely +fine work of the matting on the walls interested her, the great garden +enthralled her. To Tiva and Ioia it was more remarkable that for the +first time in their lives they had seen themselves reflected in a +full-length mirror; this wonder of civilisation adorned the wardrobe in +Hilda’s room. Mr Lechworthy, attended by King Smith, noted with great +satisfaction that his room possessed a spring mattress and a tin bath, +and that his Bible, his camera and his clothes had arrived safely. +Even as he examined them a letter was handed to him which a messenger +from the Exiles’ Club had just brought. It was an agonised letter from +Bassett, repeating that he had fired by accident, proclaiming the +deepest repentance for his past life, expressing his desire to return +with Lechworthy to England and there to stand his trial. Lechworthy +handed it to King Smith. + +“Yes,” said the King, when he had read it. “There is no truth in it at +all.” + +“None, I am afraid. I note his account of the accident varies in one +particular from what he said before.” + +“There was no accident. I saw the man’s hands.” + +“And yet, sir, I ask you once more to give me that man’s life. I cannot +stand the idea of a British subject being executed like this--at a +few hours’ notice, without trial, guilty in many ways but not of the +capital offence. He may not be fit to live but he is not fit to die.” + +“Great Britain has nothing to do here; if she had Bassett would not be +here.” + +“True enough, sir. I know it. I’m not saying that he is not amenable to +the law of this island, made and administered by yourself. I am merely, +as your guest, asking for a favour. How can I dine with you to-night, +smoke my pipe and have my talk with you in peace, if I know this poor +wretch is perhaps at that very hour being executed?” + +King Smith smiled. “Very well,” he said. “To-night I am going to ask +you to save the lives of many of my race--I might even say the race +itself. This worthless thing--this Bassett--I will give you. You will +take him home and see that he stands his trial?” + +“Certainly. On that I insist. He must take his punishment.” + +“Write to him that you have saved his life, but that this is +conditional on his surrendering to the man who will await him at the +gates of the club enclosure some time before midnight. He can bring his +personal belongings with him; you see I give him time to get his things +together, and to clear up his business as secretary of the club. You +may say further that he will not be ill-treated, but that he will be +kept in custody until you choose to sail.” + +“Thank you, sir, from the bottom of my heart. You have taken a great +weight off my mind. I will write to him precisely in those terms. May I +have a messenger?” + +“There are many men here,” said the King, “and they are here only as +your servants, to go where you like and to do what you wish. They +understand that.” + +The King was deep in thought as he drove back to his business residence +on the beach. There he became busy. He remembered to send up to his +big house the preserved asparagus which would be wanted for dinner. He +examined with care a still that was then working. He saw the overseer +from his plantations inland. He calculated the number of bags of copra +that would be ready for his next schooner. He settled a dispute between +two natives as to the ownership of a goat. But he gave no orders for a +man to be at the gates of the club enclosure shortly before midnight, +nor did he give, nor had he given, any orders whatever about Bassett. + +In the afternoon, up at the palace, Tiva, Ioia and Hilda explored the +garden, and the native girls discovered with joy the wide pool into +which the waterfall plashed. They begged Hilda to come for a swim +with them. The idea was certainly alluring, but for two reasons Hilda +demurred. One was the presence of a patrol of athletic-looking natives +with rifles on their shoulders, but this reason was disposed of at once. + +“We speak him,” cooed Tiva. “He go pretty dam quick.” And it was so. + +The other reason vanished before the resources of the rather fantastic +wardrobe which Ioia had brought with her. Two hours later Hilda sat on +the verandah with her wet hair loose. She had considered herself fairly +expert in the water, but Tiva and Ioia quite eclipsed her; there had +seemed to be absolutely nothing which they could not do, and they did +everything with the most beautiful ease and grace. Hilda rather wished +she had been a sculptor. The two water-nymphs now sat at her feet--Tiva +in a loose salmon-coloured robe, with a gold bangle on one arm, and +Ioia in a similar robe of olive-green surmounted by a barbarous kimono. +The bangle and the kimono were Hilda’s gifts. The hurricane had passed +as quickly as it had come, and far away before her Hilda could see a +sea of marvellous sapphire, foam-streaked, trying to be good again. + +Lechworthy spent much of his time that afternoon in his room alone. +Then he roamed the garden, camera in hand. He took three snapshots of +the armed patrol, and he took them all on the same section of film. +But, not yet aware of this little mistake, he was in a placid and +even sunny temper when he came on to the verandah for tea. Tiva and +Ioia, commanded by Hilda, took tea with them; Ioia tried most things, +including tea-leaves, which she ate with moderation but with apparent +enjoyment. Then the two sang--a beautiful voice and a correct ear are +part of the island girl’s natural inheritance--and Hilda and her uncle +listened. The song was in the native tongue and for the most part +improvised, and perhaps it was just as well that the listeners did not +understand it. It was wholly in praise of Hilda, but it praised her +with a wealth of detail unusual in European eulogies. + +Bassett at the Exiles’ Club received Lechworthy’s reply to his letter +shortly after the luncheon hour. Bassett himself was unable to eat +luncheon; he was sick with fear. He grew worse every hour. His nerves +had broken down. Sir John and Dr Soames Pryce had taken all possible +means to safeguard Bassett’s life, for that night at any rate. Every +member in whom reliance could be placed was ready to help. From ten to +twelve Bassett was to remain in the secretary’s room. There would be a +guard outside both window and door. All over the club garden a watch +would be kept. To protect him from poison his food and drink were to +be tasted by native servants. Preparations were made to deal with any +sudden outbreak of fire. + +“Can’t you pull yourself together a little?” said Dr Pryce, utterly +weary of him. + +“Everything you’ve done’s no good,” said Bassett. “I know King Smith, +and he does what he says. You can’t stop him.” + +“Don’t be a fool, Bassett,” said Sir John. “King Smith is a man and he +cannot do miracles. You probably will never be safer in your life than +you will be to-night. For that matter, your letter to Lechworthy may +get you off altogether.” + +Bassett began to weep. He was a humiliating, distressing, repellent +spectacle. Dr Soames Pryce ordered brandy to be brought, and forced him +to take a stiff dose. + +He then became sullen and morose. He said that he wished he had not +taken the brandy. Drink was the curse of more than half the men in the +club, and he thanked God he had never given way to it. Then he became +suspicious of the revolver which had been given him. How was he to know +it was all right? Finally he exchanged weapons with Sir John. + +The arrival of the letter from Lechworthy did nothing to inspirit him. +He read it aloud. + +“There you are, you see,” said Sir John. “Sentence commuted. Aren’t you +ashamed of yourself for behaving in this way? I told you Lechworthy +would get you off.” + +“Get me off?” said Bassett. “Do you mean to say you can’t see that +this thing’s a trap? A little before midnight I’m to hand myself over +to some man at the gates. He takes me away. Oh, yes! Good-bye all! How +long afterwards do you suppose I shall be alive?” + +“Do you think Lechworthy would trap you in that way?” + +“How should I know? He’s got no particular reason to love me, has he? +But what’s most likely is that Lechworthy himself has been deceived by +King Smith.” + +“That won’t do, Bassett. The deceit would be found out next day. King +Smith, on the contrary, is most anxious to do all that he can to please +Lechworthy and to win him over. What do you think, Pryce?” + +“That is so. The letter is quite genuine. Bassett will hand himself +over to the man, and--” + +“I will not,” screamed Bassett. + +“You will,” said Pryce. “You will be made to do it. You see the +situation that way, Sweetling, don’t you?” + +“Of course I do. Listen to me, Bassett. You have asked the King to +spare your life, and offered in return to hand yourself over to +Lechworthy. He spares your life, and imposes a condition which amounts +to what you offered--he is merely making certain that you do hand +yourself over to Lechworthy. What do you think will happen when the +King finds that he has been fooled and that you have broken your word? +My friend, in that case he would get you, even if it were necessary to +set all the natives on us to-night, as he could do. He would get you, +and I fancy he would adopt barbarous ways of killing you. Therefore, +you will be at the gates shortly before midnight--even if you have to +be carried there.” + +“It comes to this,” said Bassett, “that I’m betrayed by you two.” +His shoulders shook, the nails of his yellow hands beat the table +convulsively, his thin lips twitched sideways and upwards. + +“Bassett,” said Dr Soames Pryce, “try to behave a little more like +a man, won’t you? This sort of show isn’t--it’s not very pretty, +you know. I give you my word of honour that I believe your life’s +safe if you’ll only do what the King tells you. You’ll have to go on +board the _Snowflake_, of course, but you’ll get a chance to give +Lechworthy the slip long before he gets to England. Then you’ll come +back here--you’ve got the money to do it with. If it’s any consolation +to you, I may tell you that I shall probably be on the schooner +myself--private business of my own--and I’ll see that you get your +opportunity.” + +“You on board too? How? What business do you mean?” + +“I think I said private business of my own.” + +“I see. Something I’m not to know about. Another conspiracy against +me, eh? Here, give me that brandy.” He nearly filled his tumbler with +it, and drank it in quick, excited ugly gulps. He rose to his feet +and shook a skinny fist. “You two fools! Do you think I can’t see? +Smith has bought you. All the jabber about protecting me was a farce, +and Lechworthy’s letter was a put-up thing between you. If I go, I +die. If I stay, I die. Pretty thing, ain’t it? You swindled me over +the lizards, Pryce, and thought I didn’t know. But, my God, I haven’t +got a friend, and I know that! You needn’t look so angry, Sir John. +You’ve been bowled out before. You’re used to it. Well, all right. I +go to-night. Good-bye all! I’m off to my own room--special leave from +King Smith to pack the shirts I’ll never wear. Good-bye! We’ll meet in +hell.” + +He flung himself out of the room, across the hall, and up the stairs. +Lord Charles Baringstoke was seated in the hall, drinking through a +straw a mixture of _crême-de-menthe_ and crushed ice. He observed Mr +Bassett, and he turned to Mr Sainton--the member who was paying for the +drinks. + +“See our Mr damned Bassett? Well, you know, I ain’t the champion gold +cup at the beauty show myself, but I never did know anyone look quite +so blessed ugly as that chap does. Might use him to test iron girders, +eh? Mean he might grin at them, and if they’d stand that, they’d stand +anything.” + +In the room which Bassett had just left Sir John Sweetling controlled +his rage with difficulty. + +“Look here, Pryce,” said Sir John. “We’ve done the best we can for the +man, but this lets me out. If I see him again before he goes I--I can’t +answer for what will happen.” + +Dr Soames Pryce rolled a cigarette. “The beauty of being a doctor,” he +said, “is that you can’t lose your wool with your case--whatever he, +or she, does or says. Bassett, under pressure, has become a case. And, +as I don’t think it safe to leave him alone, I’ll hop upstairs after +him. See you presently.” + +On the stairs Dr Pryce heard the report of a revolver. He arrived just +ten seconds too late. + + * * * * * + +The King and Mr Lechworthy dined alone that night. Hilda discovered, +rather suddenly, that she was absolutely worn out with the long day. +Tiva and Ioia, watching her, spoke one or two sentences together in +the native tongue. Then Tiva explained to Hilda in English that she +and Ioia had spread their sleeping-mats on the verandah just against +Hilda’s window. If Hilda wanted them at any time in the night she had +only to go to the window and speak, and they would be with her at once. +Hilda thanked them, but she was sure she would not need them. She left +with her uncle her apologies to the King. + +Mr Lechworthy’s dress was just precisely what he would have worn in +the evening in London. The King wore a tropical evening suit of white +drill; he had ridden up from the office and changed his clothes at the +palace. The two men dined early--a brief and tasteful dinner composed +principally of native dishes. And then Lechworthy filled his pipe, and +they took their coffee on the verandah, and talked long and seriously. + +It was of the death of the native races that the King spoke--and of +his own ambition, that Faloo should become a refuge for them from the +deadly effects of civilisation, that in the future no white man should +ever be allowed to set foot there. Let Great Britain undertake just +that work of protection and close the island definitely to all but the +natives. Let her say that neither British nor French nor German, nor +any other white man, might land there. King Smith said that he knew +little of the conditions that might be demanded, but if Great Britain +wished him to renounce his title of King he would resign it willingly; +if tribute were wanted, he would see that it was paid punctually. All +he asked was Great Britain’s guarantee that in Faloo the island people +should be left absolutely to themselves, to live their own life in +the old way, and so to escape the racial destruction that was coming +swiftly upon them. + +He laid before Lechworthy the pictorial evidence of travellers and the +unimpassioned figures of the statistics. Everywhere in the islands, +as civilisation advanced, the native race died out. The King made no +attack upon civilisation, wasted no time in idle epigrams. Civilisation +might have all the merits and all the advantages, but it had been +proved in cold history that the island races could not accept it. In +childish and rather pathetic good-will they had tried to accept it, and +in consequence many had died out and the rest were dying. + +It was not merely a question of drink. It was true, of course, that +alcohol, which harmed the habituated European, quickly demoralised +and killed the unhabituated islanders. But there was hardly a part +of civilisation that did not help to kill him. Civilisation called +him from the open air into houses where he was poisoned and stifled. +It clothed his partial nakedness with European stuffs and pneumonia +followed. It gave him things to learn for which his mind was unfit, and +he became obtuse and devitalised. Nature had spared him and put him in +places where food and such shelter as he needed might be had free or +for a minimum of labour; civilisation put a stress upon him and paid +him in luxuries that were bad for him. Tinned meat and multiplication +tables, gin and geography, feather beds and tight boots, worry and +hypocrisy, everything worked together for bad for the islander. +Civilisation increased his needs and sapped his powers. He went down, +down inevitably, in his struggle with it. + +“Excuse me, sir,” said Lechworthy. “What you say is true; I have heard +something of this before, though far less than you have told me. But +your own case hardly supports your argument.” + +“I know it. I admit that I am quite exceptional. Heredity may have +something to do with it. There is a legend of white blood in my family, +a long way back. It may be so or it may not--such inter-marriages do +not generally have a good result. But my grandfather died of drink, and +my father was a very great friend of the missionaries. So perhaps I +was born--what is the word?--yes, perhaps I was born immune. There are +no missionaries here now, except the two French priests, and they do +nothing; you see, they have grown old and very, very fat.” + +“Your father then--he was a convert?” + +“The missionaries thought so, and he did what they liked; you see, he +was a good friend to them, and they taught him. My father could read +English, and he spoke it too, but not very correctly. He was a kind +man, but he was not very much converted, I think. He began to teach me +when I was quite young, and always I wanted to learn more. It was he +who showed me what the white man is doing in these islands. So it is +very many years since I first thought that Faloo is not a great island, +and had been left over, and perhaps I might in time secure it so that +it should be the last home of my people, lest they all died. And I have +gone on thinking it always; it is for that that I have done good and +also bad things.” + +“But you speak English remarkably, sir. You did not learn it from your +father alone.” + +“Oh, no. For nearly ten years the Exiles’ Club has been here, and I +have been the friend of the white men just as my father in his time was +the friend of the missionaries. The men of the Exiles’ Club came to me, +and there was always whisky and cigars and whatever they wanted. So +they would sit and talk with me. That Mr Cyril Mast came very often. +Most days he is very bad and also drunken. But he is beautifully +educated, and he told me much about England. Sometimes Sir John +Sweetling, who started the club, would talk about your financial world, +though it was mostly on our joint business he came to see me. This +Bassett also talked. Even Lord Charles Baringstoke--” + +“What? Is that young scamp here?” + +“Yes, and even from him I have learned something. But the best man of +all of them is Dr Soames Pryce. He is very able and he is different +from the others. When I was ill with an island fever he came to see +me and he gave me medicines, and very soon I was well again. But when +I would have paid him he told me to go to the devil. I think it was +because he has sometimes drunk whisky with me, but not so often as I +should like, for I think he knows very much, and he is the only one +whose word I altogether believe.” + +So far Mr Lechworthy had expressed no opinion; he was rather miserly +with expression until he had well weighed his subject. But he had +already formed his opinions. Firstly, the King was simple and sincere. +He spoke plainly and without hypocrisy. He had not shirked the fact +that his father was not really converted to Christianity, or that he +himself had been a boon companion of these blackguards at the Exiles’ +Club. He had never emphasised the point that he wanted nothing for +himself and everything for his people; he had treated this attitude as +a matter of course, and, had not dwelt upon it. Secondly, the project +of Faloo for the people of Faloo, with their independence supported by +Great Britain, appealed to him greatly. We had done enough grabbing for +unworthy ends. We had become a byword in that respect. It was a great +thing to save a race; it was an idea which might arouse an enthusiasm, +and that in its turn might become useful in practical politics. The +missionary question presented to his mind the only difficulty at +present. However, he would hear the whole story. + +The next chapter of that story dealt with Smith’s start as a trader. +It went back to the time of Sir John Sweetling’s arrival at Faloo; two +other white men had followed him there within the year. He narrated his +dealings with Sir John and with the syndicate which was subsequently +formed. The financial control of the business was practically shifted +to a distant island, where there was a bank with a cast-iron method +and a Commissioner who could enforce agreements. The King, young and +inexperienced, had signed the instructions to the bank and had signed +the iniquitous agreements. He had put the noose on his own neck. + +But one hold on his partners he retained, or the noose would have been +drawn tight long before. They lived at Faloo, and there was probably +no other part of the globe where they could have lived with the same +safety and comfort. They were in consequence largely dependent on +the King of Faloo; he alone could control the natives. Consequently, +concessions were made to him on points where he had insisted. The +dangerous but remunerative contraband trade had been a case in point; +he had refused to allow any native of Faloo to buy liquor; he had even +safeguarded the native servants employed at the Exiles’ Club. After one +week--in which the King had left the club without any native servants +at all--its members learned wisdom. + +In the actual conduct of the business he had not had to complain of +much interference. He was free to settle all the details of it and to +do all the work of it. It was called his business--not their business. +But his partners’ veto came in from time to time, and gradually he +had realised that he was held back. Trade was not to be extended. The +reef was not to be opened up. He was never to be rich enough to buy +out his own partners and to be independent of them. Here and there he +could tempt one of the investors by an appeal to his cupidity--Bassett +had been such a man. But the more important interest, represented by +Sir John, had stuck always to the same policy--to keep a control over +King Smith, and to prevent Faloo from developing a trade of sufficient +importance to attract outside attention. For instance, the amount +of copra that might be exported was not regulated by what could be +produced and sold, but by a decision of the King’s partners; and they +had no wish to bring the great soap-making firms down on Faloo. + +And then the idea had come to him that he might be able to split up +the white men, create differences among them, and perhaps form a party +of his own. It was with this view that he had persuaded some of them +to support his candidature for membership of the Exiles’ Club, and +had lent money to some of the remittance men and had refused it to +others. “And perhaps I might have done something with that, but in the +meanwhile, without intending it, the white men have split up my own +people. There is now a certain number of natives who are acting without +any order from me, and even against my order. They have no hostility +towards me, and they act secretly because they are all afraid of me. +Their aim is to kill all the white men on the island. They killed one +last night--I buried him early this morning. I will tell you how that +has come about.” And the King narrated, with more detail than need be +given here, the trouble about the native women. + +“I have only kept my people in hand up to this point by promising them +that a day should come when not one white man would be left on the +island if only they would be patient. If they used violence, then my +plans would be spoiled--they would be punished--the men-of-war would +come--the whole island would fall into the white man’s hands. And, +Mr Lechworthy, even if you had not come I should have kept my word, +for when a man wants only one thing, and wants it very badly, he must +get it in the end. But I no longer have the whole of my people in +hand. There must be some--I think they are few--who have not enough +patience. I cannot blame them in my heart, although as soon as I find +them I shall kill them. I cannot, I say, blame them in my heart, for +there are wrongs which drive a man mad, and these are just the wrongs +of which the white men have been guilty. That then is the position +here--a section of my people is in secret rebellion against me, and it +is to the Exiles’ Club that I owe this. And look--I have but to give +one brief order, and in an hour the club would be burned to the ground +and every white man in it would be murdered. There are times when I +have been tempted. But I always knew that it was not so that I should +make the Faloo of my dreams--not in that way that I should gain the +friendship and the help--the indispensable help--of Great Britain.” + +He paused a moment, drank from the long glass before him, and lighted +another cigarette. + +“There is the story, Mr Lechworthy. I have worked for a good thing, +but it is as I said: I have used a bad implement and it has hurt my +hand, and perhaps I must burn the wound with a little gunpowder before +it will be whole again. You can save us all, if you will. You are a +politician and a friend of politicians of high Cabinet rank. You own a +newspaper. You can arouse public feeling, and you can direct it. You +know how these things are managed. Perhaps to-morrow you will decide. +To-night I cannot remain much longer for I have to fetch this man +Bassett--if he is still there.” + +“If he is still there?” + +“Yes. He is a suspicious man and his nerves are very feeble. He +may have distrusted your letter. He may have run away. He may +have--anything may have happened.” + +“I see. Well, I have done what I could. There is one little point +which I would mention to-night. These agreements with your partners +are so unjust, and contain such evidence of bad faith, that I think I +could get them set aside. But all that would take time, and there is +a quicker way. The terms on which you can buy them out are unfair and +extravagant, but even so the amount of capital involved is--well--it is +not to me a very large sum. I offer to buy them out and to become your +one partner in their place. I wish to do this.” + +“I accept it with gratitude,” said the King, “provided that you +understand this: if ever Faloo is closed, except to its own people, the +trade will stop absolutely. It would then be unnecessary and a source +of danger. The island itself provides all that a native wants.” + +“Very well,” said Lechworthy, “I have no objection. My capital would +then be returned to me. I am anxious to make it possible for you to +drop--the implement that has hurt your hand. And as for the rest, I +can tell you my position in a few words. I am ready to help you by +all the means in my power; this idea of the refuge for the race, the +island where it may recuperate itself, appeals to me immensely, and +I think I can make some political use of it too. But, sir, I have my +conscience. I may shut the door against the white man and his dangerous +civilisation, but I dare not shut it against the gospel of Christ. +There, we will speak of this to-morrow.” + +“I shall be here early in the morning. Good-night, Mr Lechworthy.” + +At five minutes to twelve the King reined in his horse at the gates of +the club compound. Dr Soames Pryce stood there alone. It was too dark +to see the expression of his face, but his voice sounded sardonic. + +“You have come for your prisoner, King Smith?” + +“I have.” + +“He has escaped you. He shot himself this afternoon. You found the +man’s breaking-point all right. Do you want evidence of his death?” + +“I take your word for it. You know, I suppose, that he had his chance +of life. My guest, Mr Lechworthy, wrote a letter--” + +“Yes, I know. And the only man who disbelieved in the letter was +Bassett. He disbelieved in everybody and everything. Extreme fear had +made him insane. By the way, it was I who stopped your election to this +club, and now I want you to do me a kindness. Damned awkward, isn’t it?” + +The King smiled. “That is not the only association you have had with +me. What is it you want?” + +“I remember no other association. Oh, yes, I gave you a few pills once, +didn’t I? Well, I can tell you what I want anyhow. The fact is that +this place is becoming a bit too hot for my simple tastes, and I want +to clear out. Duncombe’s missing; we’ve had men out all day looking +for him and he can’t be found.” + +“I had nothing to do with that.” + +“Very likely. I don’t accuse you. Still, it happened. Bassett was +sentenced and reprieved, and ended by shooting himself. Cyril Mast is +boozing himself mad; we are trying to sober him down enough to read +the service over Bassett. Every night we find natives, who’ve got no +business here, skulking about this place. It’s possible that some of +them will hurt themselves. The pot’ll boil over presently, and there +will be general hell. I’m a quiet man, and I’d sooner be away. I wish +you’d put in a word for me to this Mr Lechworthy. If he had room for +Bassett he’s got room for me. I’ll pay my passage, or work it as doctor +or anything else, whichever he likes. You might put in a word for me.” + +“But why bother Lechworthy? One of our own boats will be going out +again in a few days’ time.” + +“Thank you. If I wanted to be poisoned with the stink of copra, and +eaten alive with cockroaches, I’d go by it. The _Snowflake’s_ a sound +clean boat, and I prefer it. The inside will drop out of your schooner +one of these days. She’s all right for trade, but she’s slow, rotten +and nasty.” + +“Very well,” said the King. “I’ll speak to him about it. But of course +the decision will rest with him.” + +“Of course. Thanks very much.” + +They said good-night and parted, the King riding on to the office on +the beach, and Dr Pryce returning to Sir John in the club. + +“How goes it?” asked Pryce. + +“Mast is sober now, but he’s pretty shaky. It seems that his bit of +a row with Bassett is disturbing him, and he’s been weeping. I say, +Pryce, our men are simply going to pap.” + +“Everything else ready for the burial?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then I’ll give Mast one stiff peg to steady him, and we’ll start away. +By the way, it was as I thought, it was the King himself who came to +the gate.” + +“Then you spoke about the _Snowflake_?” + +“Of course. He’ll see Lechworthy about it.” + +“Do you think he smells a rat?” + +“There are some men who smell rats and then shout about it, and they +don’t generally make fortunes as rat-catchers. Smith’s not that sort.” + +“You mean?” + +“I mean that I don’t know whether he suspects or not. I should imagine +that he’s watching out, and so am I, which makes it quite interesting. +Now I’ll go and see if I can straighten Mast’s backbone a bit.” + +The King certainly had not accepted Pryce’s statement that he was a +quiet man and wished to run away from fear of a native uprising; but +Pryce might have had other reasons of which he did not wish to speak, +and the real reason did not occur to the King at all. But he was +suspicious and on his guard. He had very much to think of and many +questions to ask himself. What line would Sir John take when he found +that he and the other partners were to be bought out? Would Lechworthy +be obstinate on the question of white missionaries for Faloo? If this +were arranged, would Lechworthy be able to bring the scheme to a +successful issue? Who was it that had murdered Duncombe? + +To this last question the King had a simple means of finding the +answer. Knowing the native mind as he did, he knew that the murderer +would be driven to make some demonstration of triumph and satisfied +revenge. He would do it secretly, probably very late at night, but +he would find himself driven to do it. Stealthily and on foot the +King went from one native house to another, wherever he suspected the +criminal might possibly be. + +It was some hours later that he stood outside a little shanty and +listened to the man who was singing within. The singer was drunk--drunk +on methylated spirits stolen from the stores of the Exiles’ Club. The +King entered. + +It was just at this time that away at the palace Hilda Auriol managed +to raise herself a little in bed. “Tiva! Ioia!” she called and fell +back again. In an instant the two girls entered through the windows +from the verandah. + +“I--I think I am very ill,” moaned Hilda. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Bassett was buried by lantern-light a little after one in the morning +in a far corner of the club grounds. His was the fourth grave there, +and not one of the four men had died in his bed. The Rev. Cyril Mast +read the service sonorously, with dignity and self-control, for Soames +Pryce had seen to him, and Soames Pryce was a clever doctor. The +roughly-made coffin--a wooden framework with thick mats stretched over +it--was borne by members of the club, and it was they who had dug the +grave and afterwards filled it in. No native had ever been allowed to +have anything to do with the interment of a white man. + +Most of the members were present at the funeral, but not all. Lord +Charles Baringstoke was not there, but he expressed his regrets +afterwards, leaning against the wall in the card-room with a cigarette +in one side of his loose mouth. + +“I’d always meant to see the beggar planted, but, you see, I didn’t +know when the thing was going to start. So we’d one rubber to fill in +time. Then, just when the lights went past the window, we were game +and twenty-eight, and it looked like our only being five minutes late +anyhow; but I got my spades doubled and the little slam up against me, +and then they made an odd trick in hearts, and we were finally bust +on a dam-silly no-trumper of my partner’s. Still, I’m sorry you know, +though it couldn’t be helped. Everybody going to bed? One more little +drink--what?” + +Already on the screen in the hall there was a notice calling an +emergency meeting of the members in the afternoon for the election of +an honorary secretary who would also be a member of the committee. +Neither Pryce nor Mast had cared to undertake the secretarial work. + +Standing by the screen, Sir John Sweetling, in conversation with some +of the more responsible members of the club, pronounced the panegyric +upon Bassett. “He never, or very rarely, drank; he liked business, +and he kept the books well.” Sir John paused a moment in thought, and +added, “And he wrote an excellent hand.” + +“And paid nodings for it,” said round-eyed Mr Mandelbaum. “But zen it +put him in ze know.” + +It was long before Sir John could get any sleep that night. His mind +was still active and anxious. The old questions still bothered him. +What compact, if any, had been made between King Smith and Lechworthy? +Was it just possible that the King had not given the Exiles’ Club +away? If he had, which seemed almost certain, would Pryce be able to +carry out what he had undertaken? Would Pryce be able to save himself +when the _Snowflake_ was scuttled or burned? And then there were +many worries in connection with the club. Who could be found to take +Bassett’s place? What could be done about Cyril Mast, whose folly was +the cause of all that had happened? Some advantage might be taken of +his repentance. + +It seemed to Sir John that he had only been asleep for a few minutes +when he was awakened by a loud knock at his door. It was just daylight. +Sir John was rather startled. He glanced at his revolver on the table +by his bedside and shouted “Come in.” + +“Sorry to disturb you,” said Dr Pryce, as he entered. He was dressed, +and he sat down and laced his boots as he talked. “But I’ve got to be +off. A letter was brought to me ten minutes ago from Lechworthy. His +niece is ill--seriously ill, I should say, and he wants me at once. He +seems to have sent the letter through the King--at any rate Smith’s +waiting for me in a buggy outside.” + +Sir John was wide awake and out of bed by now. He thrust his feet into +a pair of soft red leather slippers. He was quite a good figure of a +man, but his tendency to corpulence was more noticeable in his yellow +silk pyjamas, and one gets untidy at night. “But this is a new move, +Pryce,” he said. “This secures your passage on the _Snowflake_.” He +peered into the looking-glass and used two hairbrushes quickly. Then he +suddenly wheeled round, with the brushes still in his hands. “By God! +it settles everything. You needn’t go near the _Snowflake_. Don’t you +see?” + +“Thought you’d come to it. You mean that I poison the girl and her +uncle. Smith has to come back to us because he has no one else. The +skipper and crew will know nothing, and will be told a tale. That’s it, +eh?” + +“Of course, though it needn’t be put quite like that. The best of +doctors cannot save every patient. Lechworthy would be distracted, +and a sleeping-draught might be necessary--and a mistake might occur. +That’s the way I’m going to put it--to Smith, to the men here, to +everybody. You can trust me.” + +“Absolutely. But you’re in too much of a hurry. I’m not going to do it.” + +“Why not? Because you’re called in as a doctor? Man, our lives are at +stake. Let’s be frank. I won’t face a trial and penal servitude to +follow. Would you? You were ready to do much worse than this. It isn’t +a time for--” + +“I know,” said the doctor. He had finished with his boots now, and +stood upright. “It’s not exactly a point of professional etiquette. The +thing simply isn’t sport. It’s too easy and too dirty.” + +“But this isn’t reasonable. You’re willing to sink the _Snowflake_ +and--and all that’s implied in that.” + +“Willing to try. The scuttling of a schooner is not too easy. Teetotal +millionaires can afford luxuries, and you may bet there’s a good sober +skipper and a picked crew on board the _Snowflake_. They will be +awake. If I were caught cutting a pipe, or fooling with the sea-cocks, +or doing something surgical to the boats, I think--well, objections +would be raised. Also, the problem of the one survivor takes some +thinking out. It’s likely there would be too many survivors or none at +all. It’s blackguardly enough, but still there is an element of risk +about it. As for the other thing, well, to cut it short, I won’t do it.” + +“Then I must leave it,” said Sir John. “I think you’re missing a +chance, but that can’t be helped. When do you return?” + +“Can’t say. To-night perhaps, if the patient doesn’t need me. Well, +good-bye, Sweetling. Get ’em to elect Hanson secretary if you can. If I +can’t come I’ll write.” + +Sir John crept back again into bed. He did not mean to break with +Pryce, and he had shown less anger than he felt. He was not really +surprised at Pryce’s prompt and definite refusal. He had dealt with +many bad men--some worse than the doctor--and he was a bad man himself; +and he had come constantly on the bad thing that the bad man would not +do. He had found the distorted sense of honour in men who had done +some dishonourable things. He had found generosity in thieves and +tender-heartedness in a murderer. Even as the good sometimes fall, so +do the bad sometimes rise. + +And, after all, the summons of Dr Pryce to the palace to attend +Lechworthy’s niece was all to the good. He would be in the position of +a spy in the enemy’s camp. Probably, by the evening, he would return +with news of the relations of Lechworthy and the King. Uncertainties +would be cleared up, and it would be easier to see what to do. And yet +another point occurred to Sir John. Suppose that Pryce saved the life +of Lechworthy’s niece, Lechworthy’s gratitude would be unbounded, and +he would be ready to do anything to show it. Pryce would refuse money, +but he might ask Lechworthy to leave the Exiles’ Club alone, to refrain +from policeman’s work, to do nothing which would give the secret away. +Thus thinking, Sir John fell asleep again. + +He rose late, breakfasted in his room, and then sought out the Rev. +Cyril Mast. + +“I want you,” said Sir John. “Pryce has been called away, and we are +the only two on the committee for the moment. Come to the secretary’s +room.” + +“Very well,” said Mast, dejectedly, and followed him. + +The two sat at the table facing one another. Mast’s red-rimmed eyes +fell on the little glass of small shot with which Bassett had been wont +to clean his pens. He could recall the nervous jabbing movement of +Bassett’s hand as he did it. Bassett’s three cork penholders lay in a +tray before him. + +“You can say what you like,” said Mast. “Whatever you say I deserve it. +I ought never to have brought the Lechworthys here. I couldn’t foresee +that Bassett would come out and Lechworthy would recognise him. It was +all wrong, though.” + +“Why did you do it?” + +“Do you never feel sometimes that you’d like to talk to a few decent +people who didn’t know your history? I’ve been nearly mad. And--well, +it was you who began it.” + +“Indeed? And what had I got to do with it?” + +“You didn’t mean it, and you’ll probably laugh at it. It was about a +fortnight ago, and we’d just finished a committee meeting after dinner. +There were Pryce, Bassett, you and I sitting out on the verandah. +Bassett kept jigging about in a wicker chair that squeaked horribly, +and you said you’d give us some better music than that, you remember?” + +“Yes, I remember. What about it?” + +“You pulled out that swagger presentation watch of yours--the one that +plays the tunes--and set it going. The night was quite still, and I +sat listening to the tinky-tink of ‘Home, sweet Home.’ That brought +back Histon Boys to my mind--village where I was, you know. Old chaps +hobbling out of church, bad with rheumatism; they used to touch their +hats to me then. They didn’t know. I was welcome anywhere in the +village. I dined with the farmers and played tennis with their pretty +daughters. People walked in from the next village, three miles away, to +hear me preach on Sunday evenings. Yes, it won’t seem much to you, but +I’ve lost it all, and I can never have it again or anything like it. +Why, if I showed myself in Histon Boys now, they’d set their dogs on +me. That infernal tune made me think, and thinking drove me mad.” + +“I’m not concerned with your sins, Mr Mast. Being a parson you repent +’em, and being what you are, you repeat ’em. You spend your time in +alternate sobbing and soaking. But I’m concerned with your follies, +because they’re dangerous. You showed yourself a dangerous fool in +the matter of the native women. You’ve showed yourself still more +dangerous in bringing Lechworthy here. Lechworthy’s hand-in-glove with +the King. Lechworthy may sail for home with a list of our names in his +pocket-book.” + +“I realise all that,” said Mast. “If there’s anything I can do about +Lechworthy I’ll do it. I don’t care what it is.” + +“Remember you’ve said that. I may take you at your word later. At +present that matter is in the hands of a stronger man than you are. +Lechworthy’s niece is ill, and Dr Pryce is attending her. Something may +be worked that way.” + +“I don’t see how.” + +“Don’t you? Well, there are more ways than one of paying the doctor who +saves the life of somebody to whom you’re devoted. But don’t bother +about that yet. At present that’s in Dr Pryce’s hands and mine. You’ve +made an unlimited offer, and I think you were right to make it--you’ve +risked the skins of every man in the club, and you ought to be ready +to risk your own skin to save them. Probably it won’t come to that, but +if it does I’ll tell you. Meanwhile there’s another thing to settle. +Who’s to be secretary?” + +“Mandelbaum says he would take it if a small salary were attached. He +has asked me to propose that.” + +“We can’t pay a salary and I wouldn’t take Mandelbaum if he paid to +come in. He must find somebody else to propose that nonsense. You can +tell him I said so if you like. Mandelbaum doesn’t happen to be one +of the things I’m afraid of just now. The fact is, Mast--and you’re +a good deal responsible for it--we are getting too disorganised and +demoralised here. I don’t want to turn the place into a Sunday-school, +but I will have some decency and order. And I want a strong committee, +because in consequence of this Lechworthy incident it may be necessary +for the whole club to take action as the committee directs. Pryce is +all right, but you admit your own weakness. You were elected, because +you had the gift of the gab, and you can make it useful to us. I want +you to propose Hanson. Bassett was never a strong man, and that fat +German who flatters himself that he’s worth a salary is no better. +Hanson is the man. He’s steady and he knows things.” + +“I’ll do my best for him,” said Mast. “I must not canvass, of course.” + +“It’s no good; it would work the other way. But if you get a chance +between now and luncheon of getting your knife into Mandelbaum’s +election, don’t miss it.” + +“I see,” said Mast. He was glad that he was to make a speech; it was a +thing that he did well. + +“And don’t forget--you owe a debt to the club, and you’ve told me that +you’re ready to pay when I call on you.” + +Sir John was satisfied with this interview. The Rev. Cyril Mast would +be a second string to Sir John’s bow. The second string was not of the +strongest, and probably would not be wanted. But if, for example, some +further divergence occurred between the views of Sir John and those of +Dr Pryce, Sir John thought he might find that second string useful. + +The meeting that afternoon was brief and without excitement. Mast +proposed Hanson in a short but admirable speech. Mast, with the +appearance of a dissipated boy, had on public occasions the elegant and +sonorous delivery of a comfortable archdeacon. His prepared speeches +had point and a dry wit that was quite absent from his ordinary +conversation. Mandelbaum withdrew, in a few pathetic words that caused +much amusement, and Hanson was elected unanimously. + +The new secretary was a quiet and reserved man of middle age. Eight +years before he had been a prosperous Lancashire manufacturer. Then +for a week he had gone mad; and as his madness did not happen to be +of a certifiable kind, he was now paying for it with the rest of his +life in exile. He was the best chess-player in the club and perhaps +the best all-round shot; with the revolver Dr Soames Pryce was in a +class by himself. Hanson spent four hours every day over chess. He used +work where the Rev. Cyril Mast used whisky, and he had not let himself +slip down even in a climate where all occupations are a burden. If +you talked to him, he was pleasant enough, and you found him rather +exceptionally well-informed; but you had to begin the talking. He was +melancholy by nature, but he had realised it and did his best to keep +his melancholy to himself. The work of the secretaryship was a godsend +to him. + +Sir John had never before sought the society of the Rev. Cyril Mast, +but now he meant to keep in touch with him. It was not only because, +if it should happen that there was a violent and desperate thing to +be done, he felt that he could make Mast do it. Sir John appreciated +keenly the trappings of civilisation; he wished things to be done +decently and in order. He could not make the Exiles’ Club in Faloo +quite like the London clubs of which he had ceased _ipso facto_ to be +a member, but he worked in that direction. He respected--almost in +excess of its merits--the Baringstoke family, but when Lord Charles +Baringstoke entered the public rooms of the club in pyjamas and a +dressing-gown, Sir John resented it. Public opinion in Faloo was not +strong enough to stop drunkenness, but there were limits, and the +limits had of late too frequently been exceeded. There had been noise +and brawling, and worse. Mast had been a bad offender; his conversation +with some of the members was one stream of witless and senseless filth, +and in his hours of intoxication he had been beyond measure bestial +and disgusting. Yet it had been said that Mast had his moments, and he +had shown some ability, though with little judgment to direct it. Sir +John began to think that association might effect something, for Mast +like most weak men took his colour largely from his company. He did +not dream of reforming Mast, for the man was congenitally vicious; but +he thought he might effect a temporary break in the dreary see-saw of +swinishness and sentimentalism that made up the man’s life, and this +would help to stop the growing disorder in the club. + +So he complimented Mast on his speech, and Mast, like any spaniel, was +delighted with a little attention from the man who had chastised him. + +“I’ve something else I want you to do. I’m sending a couple of servants +to pack up all Bassett’s effects. You might superintend that--see that +there’s no pilfering and that everything is properly sealed up. And, by +the way, I’ve ordered a grilled chicken at nine to-night, and reserved +our last bottle of Chambertin. I should be glad if you’d join me. I +daresay Pryce will come in later.” + +Mast accepted these proposals with alacrity. He was conscious of some +faint glow of self-respect--or of vanity, which so often serves the +same purpose. + +Late in the afternoon Sir John received a note from Dr Pryce, brought +by a messenger. It contained little more than a request that his +clothes might be sent him, and the statement that he would write on the +morrow if he could find time. + +Over the grilled chicken that night Sir John was rather absent-minded. +He did not seem in the least inclined to say anything further about +Mast’s excellent speech, although he had the opportunity. + +“And when do you expect Dr Pryce?” Mast asked. + +“Not to-night after all. I’ve heard from him, of course. The poor +girl’s really ill. But still we must hope for the best. Pryce has +wonderful skill and experience. Shall we--er--join them in the +card-room?” + +In one corner of the card-room Hanson, the new secretary, was giving +Lord Charles Baringstoke a game of chess. There was nobody in the club +whose play gave Hanson more trouble. Hanson played like a scholar; his +opponent played like a demoniac with occasional flashes of inspiration +and was generally, but not invariably, beaten. To-night, for instance, +he looked up triumphantly from the board. + +“Well, old cockie?” + +“Yes,” said Hanson, “that is so. I’d given you credit for something +better, and when you unmasked, my position was hopeless. Serves me +right. Quite interesting though.” + +“Tell you what. My game’s improving?” + +“No, Charles,” said Hanson, “it’s clever but unprincipled, and always +will be. Still, it’s always suggestive. Now let me see if I can’t wake +up a little.” + +“I say,” said Sir John bitterly from the card-table where he was +playing a difficult hand, “is chess a game that requires so much +conversation?” + +“Sorry,” said Hanson. + +“We’ve made papa quite cross,” said Lord Charles Baringstoke as he +arranged the pieces. He was not allowed to win again that night. + +Mast played very sober bridge with very bad luck. He could not hold a +card. + +“I’m a perfect Jonah to-night,” he said after his third rubber, as he +paid his loss. + +“Yes,” said Sir John, genially, as he gathered the money, “we shall +have to throw you overboard. Come along now. We were very late last +night. Bed’s not a bad idea.” + +The Rev. Cyril Mast followed him meekly. + + * * * * * + +The King drove furiously, but Dr Pryce was not a nervous man. When +they arrived at the King’s house, Lechworthy was pacing the verandah +anxiously, awaiting them. Dr Pryce was presented to him, but very +little was said, for the doctor wished to see his patient at once, and +went off to her room. + +Nearly an hour had passed before he reappeared on the verandah. + +“Well, doctor,” said Mr Lechworthy, eagerly. “I have been much +alarmed--needlessly, I hope. What is the matter with my niece?” + +“I don’t know the name of it,” said Dr Pryce. “I’ve seen it several +times here--never in Europe.” + +“She is seriously ill?” + +“Undoubtedly. But Miss Auriol has a fine constitution, and if we can +fight through the next thirty-six hours, recovery is likely to be very +rapid. Unfortunately, those two native girls, with the best intentions, +have been playing about with native remedies.” + +“And they are useless?” + +“They are very much worse than that. However, it won’t happen again, +and now that I have talked to them, Tiva and Ioia may be quite handy.” +At the moment Tiva and Ioia were frightened out of their lives, weeping +tears of bitterest penitence, and wishing they were dead. + +“Yes,” said Lechworthy, “you will be able to use them as nurses.” + +“A nurse who can’t take a temperature isn’t much use to me at present. +I shall be nurse and doctor too. But they can do little things under my +direction--fetch and carry and so on--and they’re willing enough.” + +“I feel a terrible responsibility in having brought Miss Auriol here. I +had hoped, doctor, that you would be able to give me better news.” + +“Perhaps, that will come to-morrow. Meanwhile, there are things I must +see to. Is Smith still here?” + +For the moment Lechworthy did not understand that it was of the King +that Pryce spoke in this unceremonious way. “The King?” he said. “Yes, +he wished to see you.” + +“Thanks. I’ll go and find him.” He paused a moment. There was something +in the plucky, self-controlled wretchedness of the old man that +appealed to him. “There is no immediate danger,” he said. “If there +were, I would tell you. I am going to remain here, and in one point +I want to prepare you. Miss Auriol is ill now, but she will be worse +this evening. I expect a further rise in temperature, and there may +be delirium, and in consequence some noise. But you must not let that +upset you too much--it’s foreseen and I shall be ready to deal with it. +If she gets a good sleep afterwards, I shall be quite satisfied.” + +“Thank you very much for telling me. Indeed--I wish I could thank you +better for all you’re doing for us. It is good of you to have come and +to devote so much time to us. I feel it--far more than I can express at +present.” + +“My time here is of little value. You understand then--I cannot say +that Miss Auriol is out of danger, but there’s room for hope. I’ll do +my best, Mr Lechworthy. Go and see her for a few minutes now, if you +like. After that, I would rather she were left alone, unless she asks +specially for you and begins worrying.” + +Mr Lechworthy was almost aggressively cheerful during the few minutes +that he spent with his niece. Her room was pleasantly cool, and so +darkened that he could only just make out the pale face and the mass +of hair on the pillow. Mr Lechworthy expressed the opinion that Pryce +seemed to be an able doctor and would put her right in no time. + +“And how do you get on with him, my dear?” + +“I think,” said Hilda, faintly, “that he is the very gentlest man I +ever met.” + +“Good,” said Mr Lechworthy. “You like him then. That’s right.” + +Hilda’s estimate of Dr Pryce would probably have excited some mirth +among his friends at the Exiles’ Club. Lechworthy, as he resumed his +notes on South Sea Missions, found himself puzzled by Dr Pryce. Somehow +or other Lechworthy had expected to see a furtive, very polite, shaky +little man, one who would try to ingratiate himself--something like +Mast or Bassett. He found that he could not fit Dr Pryce into any +reasonable idea of the fugitive from justice. + +Meanwhile Pryce had found the King asleep in a long chair in the +garden. The King had spent less than one hour in bed, and at such +times he slept when he got the chance. But he was awake and alert +almost as soon as he heard Pryce’s voice. + +“And what is this illness?” he asked immediately. + +“The same that you had--and your boss man on the plantations.” + +“Good,” said the King. “Then you must cure her.” + +“You, like your plantation boss, are a man and a native; Miss Auriol +is a woman and a European. I got on to your case at once; here, before +I arrived, Miss Auriol had been made to swallow a mess of boiled +leaves--of a kind that might have poisoned a woman in good health. +She has the disease in a worse form than you had it. I could give you +horse-medicine; I should kill Miss Auriol if I gave the same doses to +her. Well, I don’t expect you to understand. But you can understand +this--on the whole, the probability is that Miss Auriol will die.” + +“You stop here?” + +“Of course.” + +“My servants, my house, myself--all are at your disposal. I am no more +King here: here the doctor is King. All that you say will be done. But +Miss Auriol must not die. I have given my word that you can save her +and that you will save her.” + +“Then you’re a fool,” said Dr Pryce, bluntly. + +“Why? I was ill--it was the same thing. You saved me--so you save her +too. She must not die. It means too many things. If she dies, other +people will die. You will die, Dr Pryce.” + +“Shall I?” said Pryce, smiling. He took his revolver from the case at +his belt, held it by the barrel, and handed it to Smith. “Catch hold of +that, will you? Thanks. Now then, you can either put a bullet through +my head or you can take your words back. You shall do one or the other. +Refuse and I leave you to do the doctoring.” + +The King examined the revolver, and handed it back again. + +“I apologise,” said the King. “But I have not slept much, and so I +judge badly. You must excuse me. Perhaps I wished, too, to make a test. +You will take no notice. It is--” + +“I’m in a hurry,” said Pryce. “I want fresh milk for my patient. I’d +like cow’s milk, but that can’t be got. Goats?” + +“Yes,” said the King. “I had yesterday to decide the possession of a +goat. It was a goat in milk, valuable because the milk could be sold to +the Exiles’ Club. Shall I have some milk sent up?” + +“How far away is the goat?” + +“About a mile.” + +“Then have the goat driven here, and driven very gently. I’d like to +vet the beast first. If she’s healthy, then with a little modification +the milk will do. Have you an ice-machine here?” + +“Yes.” + +“I shall want a good deal of ice to-night probably.” + +“I will see to that. Is there anything else?” + +“I may want some brandy later, and if so I want the best I can get. You +used to have some--” + +“Of the genuine old cognac that the French padre gave me. There is +still one bottle left. It is at my office. I will send a messenger for +it.” + +“Right. See about the goat first, please.” Dr Pryce turned back to the +house. + +There he found the tear-stained Tiva waiting for him. In her hand she +held a plant with small yellowish-white flowers. Dr Pryce had sent her +to get it. + +“See,” she said eagerly. “All right?” + +“Yes, that’s all right,” said Dr Pryce, taking the plant. “You’re a +good girl, though a fool in some respects. You can go back to Ioia now. +And, remember, you do not enter Miss Auriol’s room, unless she rings +that little bell by her bedside.” + +In addition to doing much of the work that usually falls to the nurse, +Dr Pryce had also to be his own manufacturing chemist. Two cases of +drugs and apparatus, that he had brought with him, had been placed +in a room near Hilda’s. Dr Pryce unpacked what he wanted. There was +oxygen to be made and stored, and the dangerous virtue of those +yellowish-white flowers to be extracted. + +The King was kept very busy on the beach that afternoon and evening. +His schooner had come in, and brought stores of all kinds, some for the +Exiles’ Club and some for the King himself. There was a bag of letters, +and there was money for Lord Charles Baringstoke. Two messengers had +come down from the palace by his direction, but they had brought little +news; the case was going on much as had been expected--that was all Dr +Pryce would say. At ten o’clock, as no messenger had come for the last +four hours, the King mounted his horse and rode up to the palace. + +“I’m glad you’ve come, sir,” said Mr Lechworthy. “Indeed, I was on the +point of sending for you.” + +“Miss Auriol is better?” + +“I--I don’t know. At sunset it was terrible--one heard her moaning +and screaming. Dr Pryce had told me it would be so, but still it was +terrible. For the last two hours he has been in her room and everything +has been quite quiet.” + +“He dined with you, I suppose.” + +“No. He came in for a minute, and took a cup of coffee. That was all. +I can’t tell you the things that that man has done to-day. He has done +everything--even to the preparing of such food as she has been allowed +to take. If she recovers, it is to Dr Pryce, under Providence, that she +owes her life.” + +“But why does he remain so long? Why does he not come and tell us?” + +“I don’t know. I hope, of course, that she is asleep.” + +“If she is asleep, then all is well, and he need not remain.” + +“Yes,” admitted Mr Lechworthy. “But I have very great confidence in +that doctor. We had better not interfere.” + +“Here he comes,” said the King. + +“I heard nothing.” + +“A door opened and shut softly.” + +Dr Soames Pryce came out on to the verandah where Lechworthy and the +King were seated. His coat and waistcoat were off. With his left hand +he rubbed his right forearm. His smile was slightly triumphant. + +“Well, we’ve got through all right, Mr Lechworthy. Had a bit of a fight +for it too. Miss Auriol has been asleep for nearly two hours and is +still asleep.” + +“Then why have you left us without news?” asked the King. + +“This another of your little tests?” sneered Pryce. + +“Do you want me to apologise again for that? I will if you like. I +was a fool, and I know it now. I asked that only because I did not +understand. I did not think it would annoy you.” + +Mr Lechworthy looked from one man to the other. He did not understand +to what they referred. + +“All right, old chap,” said Pryce. “I couldn’t come before because Miss +Auriol had hold of my right hand when she went to sleep, and I didn’t +want to wake her again. Simple enough, isn’t it?” + +“I’m afraid she’s given you a cramp in your right arm,” said Lechworthy. + +“It wouldn’t prevent me from holding a knife and fork,” said the doctor. + +“That’s good,” said the King. “We will have supper together.” In +another second he would have clapped his hands. + +“No noise,” said Pryce, quickly. + +“Right. I will go and fetch servants myself.” + +Lechworthy also rose and went through the French windows. Dr Pryce +stretched himself at full length in a chair and closed his eyes. He was +rather more worn out than he would have admitted. + +He opened his eyes again as Lechworthy came back on to the verandah +with a glass in his hand. “I’ve ventured,” said Mr Lechworthy. “Supper +won’t be ready for a few minutes. Whisky-and-soda, eh?” + +“Good idea,” said Pryce, taking the glass. “All the same, I don’t want +you to run about waiting on me.” + +“But my dear doctor, I can’t even begin to--” + +“Miss Auriol’s a prize patient,” interrupted Dr Pryce. “Good +constitution, good pluck, good intelligence. By the way--” + +King Smith came out to tell them that supper was ready. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Lord Charles Baringstoke stretched himself in a lounge-chair on the +verandah. It was eleven in the morning, and he had the tired meditative +feeling of one who has risen too early. The parrot, who had been +sitting for some minutes motionless on its perch, swayed backwards and +forwards, considering its repertoire. It produced a plausible imitation +of the drawing of a cork. + +“Yes,” said Lord Charles Baringstoke, wearily, “that’s rather what I +think myself.” + +Mr Mandelbaum waddled out to survey the morning. Between his fingers +he held a cigar, slightly bloated and rather doubtful, and in these +respects curiously like its proprietor. + +“Well, my young frient,” said Mandelbaum, “I make myself a good +breakfast zis morning.” + +“Gross feeder--what? I say, ain’t Soames Pryce ever comin’ back?” + +“Ask ze Herr Zecretary. I am noddings here. Do you want pills?” + +“No. You see, it’s rather a rum funny thing. You know that lizard of +mine--you backed him once.” + +“And lost my money. I hop’ he is dead, zat lizart.” + +“Yes, he’s dead all right, but that ain’t it. I was exercisin’ him +yesterday, when the boy brought me a glass of sherry and angostura with +a fly in it.” + +“Fly? Vot fly?” + +“Just a plain fly, and I hadn’t ordered it. But I fished it out and +chucked it to my lizard, who took it in one snap.” + +“Vell, vell, vot about it? If you veesh to gomplain zat your drink hat +som’ flies--” + +“I did the complainin’ at the time, thanks. I don’t let a thing of that +kind go past me. But what I mean is that the lizard started off round +the course like a flash of light. Cut the record all to rags. Did two +rounds and a bit, and then he died, you know. But I’ve got another +lizard, and I can get another fly and some more sherry. And I’ve got +some money just now, and Soames Pryce has got a lizard that he thinks +can’t be beaten. So that’s how it is, you see.” + +“I see, my young frient. Dope.” + +“Well, puttin’ it coarsely, dope. And good.” + +“Ve borrow a lizart and try him again,” said Mr Mandelbaum, +thoughtfully. “Perhaps zat vos only a chance. Ach, here is Sir John!” + +The neatness and freshness of Sir John’s attire made the other men look +untidy. Sir John had been distressed to hear of the carelessness of one +of the native waiters the day before, but at the same time he thought +it would have been better if Lord Charles had not thrown the glass in +the boy’s face. Glassware was so difficult to replace. It would have +been enough to have said a word to Thomas about it. “And though the +boy’s eye will probably get all right again, we think it’s politic not +to handle the natives too roughly.” + +“Awfully sorry,” said Lord Charles. “This club etiquette does hedge you +around, don’t it? And I give you my word of honour there was nobody +else there to chuck the blessed glass at. And--oh! I say, when’s Pryce +comin’ back? He’s been away a week.” + +“Not quite a week. As it happens, I’m expecting him every moment. But +he goes away again to-night.” + +“But ze girl vos all right again now, zey tell me,” said Mandelbaum. + +“Well, yes,” said Sir John, genially. “A good recovery, I’m glad to +say. But possibly Mr Lechworthy is still a little nervous. Smith, too, +can’t be there much, he has his business, and I daresay he’s getting +the doctor to help him with his guests. Our friend Pryce knows the +island, you see.” + +“Shall we gather at the river?” suggested the parrot very loudly, and +with distinct lapses from accuracy in its reproduction of the melody. +Nobody took any notice of it. + +“Well, if Pryce is comin’, I’ll wait,” said Lord Charles. “I want to do +a little lizard-racin’ with him.” + +“Doubt if he’ll have time for it. You see, Charles, I’m sorry to +disturb your plans, but we want a little business with the doctor. +Committee.” + +“Then I’ll find a canoe to take me over to the _Snowflake_. Unsociable +lot on that boat--never come ashore for a drink or anythin’. I should +do ’em good.” + +“Sorry to disappoint you again, but the _Snowflake_ left Faloo this +morning.” + +“Where to? When’s she comin’ back?” + +Sir John stroked his beard and looked very discreet. “I’m afraid,” he +said, “I’m not in a position to say.” + +“Well, I am gettin’ it in the neck this mornin’, I don’t think. Mayn’t +do what I’ve done--can’t do what I wanted--and not to be told anythin’ +about anythin’. Krikey! And nothin’ for breakfast but two oranges and a +bad headache. What a life!” + +“Ah, ha!” laughed Sir John. “You keep it up too late, you and Mast!” + +“_Shall_ we,” screamed the parrot with much emphasis on the first word, +and then paused. With its head on one side, it blinked at Sir John and +observed parenthetically, “You damned thief!” For the moment it had +forgotten what it had first intended to say. “Gather at the river?” it +suddenly added with perfunctory rapidity. + +As a matter of fact Sir John knew no more than the others about +the destination of the _Snowflake_. Nor did he know when she would +return to take up her owner. His information was derived from a +very laconic note from Dr Pryce, received on the previous evening. +“Syndicate chucked,” wrote Dr Soames Pryce. “Lechworthy partners Smith. +_Snowflake_ leaves to-morrow morning, but returns for Lechworthy. +Shall be at the club for a few hours then. So please call committee to +meet me and explain.” That morning Sir John had received the King’s +formal notice of his intention to buy out his partners. The letter was +brief, severely correct, business-like in every phrase, and clearly had +nothing of King Smith about it except the signature. + +The situation was very serious. No longer had the Exiles’ Club the +slightest hold over King Smith. Nor did it seem likely that the King’s +association with Lechworthy would be confined to the business venture. +The King, Sir John had guessed, had other schemes. A desperate crisis +must sometimes be dealt with in a desperate way, and of the desperate +ways it is better to say as little as possible. If one uses the +knife to cut the knot and all comes free, it may be more comfortable +afterwards to ignore what has happened and to hide the knife. Sir John +spoke of the departure of the _Snowflake_, for this was, or would be in +an hour, pretty generally known, but he was not going to babble of the +situation to irresponsible people. He was careful to emphasise the note +of indulgent good-humour, and gave no indication of the anxiety that +tortured him. + +Dr Soames Pryce came across the lawn with irritating slowness, rolling +a cigarette as he walked. He greeted Sir John and the other two men, +and made one or two poignant observations on the personal appearance of +Lord Charles. Then he turned to the parrot. + +“Nice morning, Polly, ain’t it?” + +“Hell to you, sir!” said that profane fowl promptly. + +Sir John showed pardonable signs of impatience. “Hanson and Mast have +been waiting in the secretary’s room for some time,” he said. + +“Sorry. I’ll come.” + +But in the hall a further interruption took place. Thomas came forward. + +“Beg pardon, sir, but one of the native boys has got his eye a good +deal cut about. Gentleman threw a glass at him yesterday.” + +“Never mind that now. Another time.” said Sir John. + +“No,” said Pryce, “I must go and have a look at him. I shan’t be long, +probably. Meanwhile, you and the others can get through all the formal +business--you don’t want me for that. You’ve explained the situation?” + +“I’ve spoken of it to Hanson and Mast, so far as I know it. You ought +to have written in more detail. Do be as quick as you can.” + +“There’s no hurry,” said Pryce, cheerfully, as he followed Thomas. + +The formal business went through, including the provisional election of +a new member, and some desultory discussion followed. The Rev. Cyril +Mast looked ill, shaky and depressed. He asked many questions, most +of which could not be answered, and repeated at intervals that in his +belief Dr Pryce would pull them through. Sir John was barely civil to +him, and glanced repeatedly at his watch. Hanson was taciturn. + +Half an hour had elapsed before Dr Pryce entered the room. He was quite +conscious that he was being talked about as he entered. He nodded to +Hanson and Mast, dropped into a chair, and lit a cigarette. + +“At last!” said Sir John, severely. + +“That chap won’t lose the sight of the eye, but he’s had a damned near +shave.” + +Sir John controlled himself with difficulty. “Very interesting, +doctor. We are not here, however, to consider the fact that one of the +native servants has not lost his eyesight, but a subject of almost +equal importance--the liberty and probably the lives of every white man +on the island. Dr Pryce, gentlemen, comes fresh from the enemy’s camp. +He was called in, as you know, to attend Lechworthy’s niece, and he has +had unusual opportunities for observation. He has already sent us, very +briefly, some alarming and serious news. We shall be glad if he can +supplement it in any way, and if he will tell us to what conclusions he +has come.” + +“Hear, hear,” said Mast. + +“The conclusion to which I have come,” said Pryce, “is that Faloo +is finished, so far as we are concerned. The Exiles’ Club is done, +D-o-n-e, done. _Sauve qui peut_--that’s the order.” + +His three hearers looked at him, and at one another. There was a +moment’s silence. + +“Rather a sweeping conclusion,” said Sir John, suavely. “I should have +to feel very sure that our case was desperate before I accepted it. +What has been happening up at the King’s palace?” + +“The first few days I was a good deal occupied with my patient, who is +now practically well again. Lechworthy and the King had two or three +consultations together, at which I was not present. It was not till +yesterday morning that they came to their final agreement. Then, as +soon as Smith had gone, Lechworthy asked if he could have some talk +with me. Well, he told me all that had been arranged, quite fully and +frankly.” + +“And you believed him?” asked Mast, with a silly assumption of +acuteness. + +Dr Soames Pryce took no notice of the question and continued. +“Lechworthy’s business partnership with the King was first touched +upon. I did not know before what terms the syndicate had made with the +King, and when I heard them I was not pleased. It’s not surprising +that, as soon as he got the chance, Smith supplanted us.” + +“You were one of the syndicate yourself,” said Sir John. + +“I was asked to put a couple of hundred into the business when I came +here. I paid my footing. I knew, of course, that the syndicate had +Smith by the neck, and that this was necessary. But I did not know that +we were picking his pocket at the same time, which was unnecessary. +We needn’t discuss it. Lechworthy will take our place. But that is +merely a temporary arrangement, for if the King and Lechworthy succeed +in doing what they intend to do, there will be no more trading. Under +the trader lies the patriot. The King’s scheme is that Faloo shall be +the asylum of a dying race. You were not far wrong, Sweetling. It is +to be Faloo for its own people. No white man is to set foot on the +island. Civilisation is not to contaminate it, for civilisation kills +the native. Under British protection, which is sought, this would be +possible.” + +“Great Britain is to be asked to protect an island, of which it is to +be allowed to make no use whatever,” said Sir John. “Come, doctor, we +are practical people.” + +“Well, Smith is ready to pay for anything that he has. He is willing, +too, to have the thing tried experimentally for a few years, and to +risk everything on the experiment being successful in arresting the +deterioration and decay of the native race. Lechworthy, too, is just +the man to pull such a thing through. He owns an influential paper, and +he contributes largely to the party funds. He is not often heard in +the House, but he is working behind the scenes most of the time. The +idea is sentimental, inexpensive and not dangerous, for France isn’t +going to worry about Faloo.” + +“The missionary question,” suggested Hanson. + +“That created a difficulty for some time. Smith’s way out of it is +disingenuous, but it has worked. The white missionary is barred, but +native Protestant converts will be admitted freely, and a church will +be built. Religion is accepted but not secular education. There will +be a church, but there will be no school. As for the Catholics, Smith +appears to do what he likes. The priests will ask to be transferred +to another island--a sphere of greater usefulness. They came here +enthusiastic, but they’ve grown slack and they’ve done themselves +too well. Smith knows something perhaps, and could write a letter if +necessary, and they know that he could. At any rate there are to be no +more Catholics in Faloo. That was a point which told tremendously with +Lechworthy. Of course, we know that in a very short time there will +be no more Protestants either. We know what happens to the Protestant +convert when the white man is away and there is neither moral support +nor public opinion to back him.” + +“If you had worked on that,” said Mast, “you might have separated Smith +and Lechworthy.” + +“It might have been tried,” said Sir John. + +“It was, and it failed. You see, Sweetling, Smith had been ready for +it. The line taken was that the true religion must prevail, whether by +the native convert or by the white missionary. The idea of the first +Protestant church in Faloo had a glamour about it for Lechworthy. A +site is chosen already for that church, and a rough plan sketched out. +And I have not the least doubt that it will actually be built. Smith +knows what he’s about. I found I had come up against real faith, and +with that one cannot argue. And even if I had succeeded, what was the +use? So soon as the business partnership comes into being, we lose our +hold on Smith, and the position becomes intolerable. He can charge us +anything he likes for the goods he supplies. He can refuse to supply us +altogether. He can refuse to carry our mail. And certainly he would +no longer risk his popularity by standing between us and those of the +natives, who, with good reason, hate us. The game’s up. _Rien ne va +plus._” + +“The position is certainly very grave,” said Sir John. “What about the +_Snowflake_?” + +“Was to have left yesterday afternoon. Lechworthy asked me if I had any +letters to send, but I had none. The delay was caused because Smith had +not had time to finish some papers that Lechworthy wanted to send on. +Lechworthy himself sent, amongst others, letters to his editor and to +his political chief. They will catch a steamer at the nearest port on +the route. Then the _Snowflake_ returns to Faloo, to take up Lechworthy +and his niece. Those letters are on their way now, and you can imagine +the kind of letters that the astonished visitor to Faloo is likely to +write. This island has become too public for us.” + +“If those letters arrive, that must be so,” said Sir John. “Well, I +deprecate any interference with private letters, of course, but there +are exceptional cases. Here are we, a body of men, who, from mistakes +and misunderstandings, are anxious to retire from the world. Without +our invitation and against our wishes this vulgar wealthy manufacturer +intrudes himself here, and proposes to make the place intolerable for +us. We had a right to see that those letters were not sent. It seems to +me, Dr Pryce, that you might have gone on board the _Snowflake_ and, +one way or another, managed that.” + +“Then you’re wrong, Sweetling. If I could have done it, it would have +meant only a temporary postponement of our troubles, but it was not +possible. I went to the King’s house as a suspected man. Smith, in a +flurried moment, let me see that he suspected me--he thought I meant +to kill Miss Auriol, or at any rate to allow her to die. Lechworthy +did not suspect me at all; if I had wished to join the _Snowflake_ for +this preliminary trip he would have arranged it; he is really absurdly +grateful to me. But even he would have thought my desertion of the +patient queer, for he wishes her to be still under a doctor’s care. +Smith would have gone further, and would have sent a message to the +skipper. Do you think a suspected man is going to have a chance to +fool with the mail that’s entrusted to a sober Scotch skipper?” Here +he looked steadily at Sir John. “Why, he’d have as good a chance of +scuttling the ship, and he’d have no chance of that. Suspected people +don’t have chances.” + +“This is most disappointing,” said Mast, peevishly. “I had felt +confident that Dr Pryce would pull us through. And what has he done? +Nothing.” + +“And what would you have done, you silly boozer?” + +“Order,” said Sir John. “These provocative expressions--” + +“Very well. Let’s hear what the Rev. Cyril Mast would have done.” + +“Naturally, I should have to think over that,” said Mast. + +“If you’d learned to think a little earlier, you would not have brought +Lechworthy to the Exiles’ Club. You made this trouble, you know.” + +“True enough,” said Sir John. “I’ve told you so myself, Mast.” + +“I don’t deny it. And I tell you once more that there is no possible +act of reparation which I am not ready to make.” + +“I can’t say anything about that,” said Pryce. “Not at any rate within +the present limitations as to language at committee meetings. And I +don’t think there’s much else to say. I’ve one more little thing to +tell you, and I heard it as I was on my way here. A native, whom I was +treating for pneumonia just about the time of Smith’s rejection as a +member here, recovered. To-day he came running after my gee in a highly +agitated condition. He had something to say to me. Briefly it came to +this, that the white men on the island were to be killed as he put it, +pretty dam quick. If necessary, Smith was to be killed too. This was +all decided, and I understood that he was one of the conspirators who +had decided it. But, as he was pleased to say I had saved his life and +he wished to save mine, I was to clear out on the trading schooner, +I believe. Personally, if there’s any conspiracy on foot, I think +the conspirators are likely to get hurt. You were right about those +piano-cases, Sweetling. Smith has got seventy-five men up at his house, +and they all have rifles. I mention it in case you may think it of any +importance. My own opinion was not altered by it. Lechworthy is not +doing any detective or police-work. He’s not sending over a list of +names or anything of that kind. But I make no doubt that he has said +something of the nature of the Exiles’ Club. If we stay, we are lost. +If we disperse, there’s still one more chance. With many of us the +scent is cold and the hounds have given up. And the world’s wide. I +propose, Mr President, that the question of winding up the club, or of +any alternative scheme be considered at another meeting to-morrow. I +have not much more time now. And you do not want to decide hurriedly.” + +Sir John rather dejectedly agreed, and there was no dissentient voice. + +“Then shall we meet again at this time to-morrow?” asked Mast. “That +would suit me.” + +“What do you think, doctor?” asked Sir John. + +“Meet then if you like. I shan’t be here. I’m going fishing with +Lechworthy. You know my views. The members of the Exiles’ Club should +disperse deviously, and as soon as Smith’s rotten schooners can take +them. As to the winding-up of the club, I’m content to leave it in your +hands, Sweetling.” + +“So in a crisis like this you find it amusing to go fishing,” said the +Rev. Cyril Mast with offensive bitterness. + +“Fishing is an occupation,” said Pryce. “Pitching idiots through +windows is another occupation and it’s difficult to keep off it +sometimes.” + +“Order, please,” said Sir John. “These suggestions of violence are most +improper. At the same time you, Mr Mast, are the very last person who +should venture to offer any criticism. Now, gentlemen, as to the date +of the next meeting. What do you think, Mr Hanson?” + +“This day week,” said Hanson. “By that time we may know more--or other +things may have happened.” + +“I can be here then,” said Pryce. + +The date was agreed upon, and Pryce came out into the hall. He was +going to walk back to the King’s house, and he thought he would take a +drink first. In the hall Lord Charles Baringstoke came up to him with +Herr Mandelbaum in attendance. + +“Oh, I say,” said Lord Charles. “I’ve got my money now, you know. And +I’ve got a lizard I’d like to back against yours--or against the clock +if you like.” + +“Well,” said Pryce, “can’t a man have a drink first?” + +“Funny thing--just what I was goin’ to propose. What’s yours?” + +“Sherry and Angostura,” said Dr Soames Pryce, impressively. “And I’ll +have two flies in mine.” + +Mandelbaum’s deep bass laughter rolled upwards from a widely-opened +mouth. + +“Golly!” exclaimed Lord Charles. His look betokened no shame but +considerable curiosity. “You’re on it, of course; but, I say, how did +you know?” + +“When you smashed a glass on the face of that native boy you nearly cut +his eye out--but you didn’t cut his tongue out.” + +“Goot! Ver’ goot!” roared Mandelbaum. + +“So you’ve been patchin’ his face up?” said Lord Charles. “I see. Well, +it’s my mistake, ain’t it? But you’ll have a drink all the same.” + +“The cheek of it! What, you dirty dog, you try to swindle me and then +expect me to drink with you? Well, well, one mustn’t be too particular +in Faloo, and you were born without any moral sense, Charles, and it +may be Lord knows the last drink we’ll take together. But you’ll drink +with me this time. Come on, Mandelbaum.” + +Mandelbaum quoted a German couplet to the effect that a drink in the +morning has a medicinal value. Lord Charles protested, but permitted +Dr Pryce to pay. Sir John and Hanson joined the party. Mast had gone +off by himself. He was sick of the alternate patronage and reprobation +of Sir John. He was sick of his own miserable position--to be despised +by the members of the Exiles’ Club was to be despised indeed. His weak +imaginative vanity pictured himself saving the situation, winning even +from his enemies a frank and generous admiration. But his drink-bemused +brains supplied no plan of action. He found an unfrequented corner of +the garden in which to sulk and swill. + +Pryce remained but a few minutes, promised Sir John that he would write +if there were anything worth writing, and went on his way. And then Sir +John called Hanson apart. + +“You said very little at the meeting, Hanson. The modesty of the +newly-elected, eh?” + +“No,” said Hanson. “I had something to say, but it was not the time.” + +“Too many listeners? Pryce?” + +“I formed an idea about him--you also, probably.” + +“He had meant to do--er--something that was not discussed. But he +managed to give me good reason why he couldn’t do it. I can’t blame +him. And I fear he’s right in his conclusions. What was your idea?” + +“That Dr Soames Pryce does not care one damn what becomes of the +Exiles’ Club--or what happens to himself either.” + +“He’s a very unemotional man, hates scenes, prides himself (so I should +imagine) on his philosophical calm.” + +“He has himself well in hand, but it struck me that it was done with +great difficulty. He would have much liked to kill our friend Mast. +Unemotional? Why, the man’s being burned alive with his emotions!” + +“What emotions?” + +“Not anger with Mast, nor sorrow, nor fear. There’s one white girl on +the island--isn’t that explanation enough?” + +“I hadn’t thought of it. It may be that you’re right. But that doesn’t +affect the main thing--we have got to quit Faloo.” + +“I agree with you that it doesn’t affect that. But still--do you play +chess, Sir John?” + +“Rarely, but I’m not your class, and I shouldn’t care for a game at the +moment.” + +“I had not meant to suggest it. And when you play what is the object of +your attack?” + +“The King, I suppose.” + +“It is the same here--in Faloo--now. It is too simple to amount to a +problem. We can win in one move.” + +“I must hear this.” + +“In the garden, I think. It’s not talk to be overheard.” + +The two men went down the steps of the verandah together. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Sir John took a cigar from a golden and armorial case and snipped the +end. + +“Well, Hanson,” he said, “you’re a new man on the committee, and new +men bring new ideas. So we are to attack the King, are we? It can be +done, of course. You may leave the details to me, but if I saw the +regrettable necessity, you may take it from me that Smith would be +removed to-night. But what I do not see is how it would do us any good. +Smith still stands between some of these angry natives and ourselves, +though it’s a question how much longer he will do it. If the King goes, +there is still Lechworthy. Then the _Snowflake_ is coming back here. +So, you see--” + +“Yes, yes,” said Hanson. “But that is not the way the game should be +played. Shall I tell you?” + +“Certainly. That is what I want.” Sir John lit his cigar, and was +careful not to throw the match down on the lawn, for he disliked +untidiness. + +“Our first move is to make a feint of accepting the situation. At the +next meeting we go through the formalities of winding up the club; we +discuss quite openly the means of getting away from the island, and +speculate as to what will be the safest place to which to retreat. We +allow Smith to hear all this, and from him, or from Pryce, it will +go through to Lechworthy. Nobody but you and I, Sir John, will know +it is a feint. We shall be doing nothing that will surprise Pryce, +since he thinks it is the only thing left for us; and he had better +not be told. I know the man is loyal, but I mean to cut out even +the possibility of a mistake. The other side will continue the game +according to their original plan. Lechworthy and his niece will sail +away in the _Snowflake_, and take the next available steamer for +England. Our second move is then--and not till then--to arrange for the +disappearance of Smith. And that wins us the game.” + +“I don’t see it.” + +“Smith, as is common enough in these islands, has no child; neither has +he any official and acknowledged wife, which is much less common. The +succession would certainly be disputed. The support and the weapons of +the white men would turn the scale in that dispute. In other words, the +new King of Faloo would be our nominee, and would have to carry out the +conditions on which he gained our support. He would repudiate Smith’s +scheme entirely; he would refuse any business or political association +with Lechworthy. What can Lechworthy do? Nothing. I doubt if he could +have got Great Britain to give this weird sort of protection to Faloo, +when the King and people of Faloo asked for it and would pay for it. +He is too practical a visionary to attempt it when Faloo repudiates +anything of the kind.” + +“Yes, you’ve worked it out. Smith’s a good life, and I’d never thought +about the succession myself--you’re sure of your facts there?” + +“Quite sure. What do you think of it?” + +“Good. We must do it. But it’s no cinch.” + +“That’s true,” said Hanson. “You heard what that native boy told Dr +Pryce. A rising against the white men may take place any moment now, +and might upset my scheme; we should have to deal with it as it came +and wait chances.” + +“I think that’s all gas. I used to believe in it, but it would have +come earlier if it had been coming at all. I never met a native yet, +except Smith--and he has got a dash of white man in him--who had the +grit to start a thing of that kind and run it through. I’d something +quite different in my mind. When Lechworthy hears from the new King he +will know perfectly well that we are at the bottom of it.” + +“Probably.” + +“Then he will give us all away.” + +“I doubt it. He would find it too difficult to explain why he had +not given us away before. Besides, he is not a vindictive man; his +conscience is his only guide, and if his conscience does not prescribe +a man-hunt now it will not prescribe it then. I know something of +Lechworthy. He would cut his hand off--and do it cheerfully--to convert +us, so that we gave ourselves up to what is called justice; but to +pursue and to punish is not in his nature. Besides, his gratitude to +Pryce will hold him.” + +“You may be right. It is difficult to forecast so far ahead, and things +we have not even imagined may happen, but you may be right. If it comes +off the position is better than ever. We’ve dealt with Smith with +moderate success, but there are not two Smiths and we shall do as we +like with the next king. You’ve shown us the best game to play and we +will play it. Then, for the present, we do nothing?” + +“Nothing,” said Hanson. “When the next meeting of committee is called +we acquiesce in Dr Pryce’s proposals. We take first steps towards +winding-up. They will be merely paper-work, and serve to fill in time +till Lechworthy goes. Then--I leave it to you. You must be prompt. +Smith must go.” + +“Yes,” said Sir John. “I think it is likely that his death will be the +result of a private quarrel. That will be the accepted version.” + +“Very well. You’ll arrange all that. Lunch, eh?” + +“I think so,” said Sir John. And they turned back towards the +club-house. + +It occurred to Lord Charles Baringstoke to be curious as to the affairs +of the club that afternoon. His method was direct. “And what did the +committee do?” he asked Sir John, as they sat on the verandah together. + +Sir John neither hesitated nor lied. He told the exact truth so far as +he knew it--as to one transaction which had taken place in committee, +while they were still waiting for Dr Pryce. + +“We’ve given provisional election to a Mr Pentwin, whose credentials +and application arrived by last mail. He himself arrives on Smith’s +second schooner. He should be here in a day or two.” + +“I got a newspaper by the same mail. He was Pentwin’s Popular Bank, and +the police believe he’s in Barcelona. He’s got the stuff with him too.” + +“We need not go into that, Charles,” said Sir John, with dignity. “We +do not discuss the mistakes that members here may have made in their +past life, nor the mistakes which the police may have made. Mr Pentwin +sends his subscription and a letter of recommendation from the widow of +an old member, Herbert Wyse.” + +“Didn’t know him.” + +“No,” said Sir John. “Poor Wyse was called to his rest before you +arrived here.” + +Wyse had thought that he wished to get away from the police. After a +few months on Faloo he had found that what he really wanted to get +away from was himself and the thing he had to think about. He cut his +throat. + +The provisional election of Pentwin had been a matter of course. The +only comment in committee had been a remark of Hanson’s that he would +sooner have had a recommendation from a living member of the club. +As Sir John said, if Pentwin was not suitable, he would not remain a +member; one or two such cases had occurred before and had given no +trouble. + +As to the principal business of the committee, Sir John said not one +word to Lord Charles Baringstoke, who believed that this provisional +election of Pentwin had been the principal business and was quite +satisfied. Sir John, as has already been said, had told the truth +about the election so far as he knew it. He was exact in saying that +a subscription and letter of recommendation from poor Mrs Wyse had +been received, and that the name given was Pentwin. Also, the solitary +passenger who was at present cursing the cockroaches and discomforts of +Smith’s smaller trading vessel, and enduring many things in order to +reach Faloo, called himself Pentwin and was thus addressed by people +who had time to talk to him. The initials H. P. were on his rather +scanty luggage, and the Christian name of the hero, or villain, of +Pentwin’s Popular Bank was undeniably Hector. + +But this man was not Hector Pentwin, knew very little about him, and +knew less about bank business than he did about some other things. +Hector himself, flying from justice with a presentiment (subsequently +fulfilled) that he would be caught and punished, would have been much +surprised had he known that anybody was impersonating him. He could +have imagined no possible motive. Yet the impersonator (whom we may +continue to call by the assumed name of Pentwin) had his sound and +sufficient reasons. + +He was a round-faced little man with a cheery smile and an +inexhaustible flow of rather commonplace talk. He had money to spend, +and appeared immune to alcohol and anxious to prove it. In two days he +seemed quite to have fallen into the ways of the club, and was on the +best of terms with all the members. + +“Pentwin will do very well,” said the president, and the secretary +agreed. + +The Rev. Cyril Mast extended patronage to Pentwin, who received it with +a seemly gratitude. + +“Of course,” said Mast, “as a member of the committee I have to +exercise discretion. I can’t discuss the committee’s business.” + +“Certainly not,” said Pentwin. “I shouldn’t expect it. Besides, I’m the +least curious of men.” + +“Apart from that, I shall be only too glad to put you up to things.” + +“That’s really kind of you. I’m a new member, but I hope to spend many +happy years here, and for that reason I don’t want to begin by treading +on the toes of other members. You understand what I mean. Nobody has +said a word to me about Pentwin’s Popular Bank, and I appreciate that. +It shows nice feeling. Before I make any blunder, you can perhaps tell +me what subjects to avoid with particular members.” + +They chatted over the subject, and Mast became from force of habit +rather vinously and aggressively moral on the sins of other people. He +noticed it himself and half apologised for it. + +“You see, Pentwin, I have never been able to shut my eyes to the +serious side of life. Have another drink?” + +“Thank you, I will,” said Pentwin, and did. + +All went smoothly and peacefully now at the Exiles’ Club. A tentative +order to King Smith had been received and executed with alacrity, +and so far he had shown no disposition to quarrel with the men whose +partnership he was renouncing. Members of the club who had had fears +of what Lechworthy might do had been quieted by Sir John, or Hanson, +or Mast. It had all been arranged, they were told. Pryce, clever +fellow, had got Lechworthy’s promise of silence in exchange for his +professional services to Lechworthy’s niece. Mast had the feeling of +elation which comes to a man who after a period of depression finds +himself becoming of importance. Sir John, after his talk with the +chess-player in the garden, had talked very seriously to Mast. “We have +a new scheme on foot,” he said. “Pryce is not in it, and you are.” +Nothing could have made Mast better pleased. True, he was not told what +the scheme was. Until Lechworthy’s departure nothing was to be done +except the first formal step towards the winding up of the club; and +it was generally to be given out that Pryce had squared Lechworthy. +“Once Lechworthy has gone,” said Sir John, “you’ll be called upon to +act. You’ll be shown what to do. Do it, and you’ll wipe out your past +follies, and the new scheme will go through and we shall all be safe.” + +Sir John had considered that whoever killed King Smith would be very +lucky indeed if he escaped being killed in his turn. Mast had made the +trouble, and had professed his readiness to redeem his mistake. Mast +could be spared, for he had greatly deteriorated since his election +to the committee. He might as well die that way as from drink. Hanson +had planned the game; Sir John would play it; Mast would be merely a +miserable pawn, gladly sacrificed for the great end. + +Meanwhile, the wretched cat’s-paw felt himself the man of destiny. +On some subjects he might chatter freely, but he preserved an iron +discretion where Sir John enjoined it. To any member who pressed +a question he was reassuring but gave no details. “We’ve gagged +Lechworthy all right” was a favourite phrase with him. “You can sleep +in your beds.” + +He did not mention Lechworthy to the new member, for so far he had +no reason to be proud of the subject. But what Mr Pentwin did not +hear from the Rev. Cyril Mast he heard at length from Lord Charles +Baringstoke, who had no more discretion than the club parrot. + +“Lechworthy--you must have heard of him,” said Lord Charles. +“Portmanteaux and piety, you know. He’s a G.T. at present, with a +pretty niece with him. Funny his bargin’ in here, ain’t it?” + +“And where did you say he was living?” + +Lord Charles closed one eye impressively. “No use, young man. The +same idea had occurred to me, but there isn’t a girl in an English +high-class boarding-school who’s quite so well looked after as +Lechworthy’s Hilda. She’s up at the King’s house, and you are not +invited to inspect the goods.” + +“How do you mean?” + +“Tell you what happened to myself. I thought I’d have a look, just to +see if anything could be done. I never said a word to a soul but I went +off on my own. The garden of the place is surrounded by a scraggy hedge +standing on the top of a high bank, and it occurred to me that there +was a chance the girl might be walking or sitting out in the garden. So +I climbed up the bank and looked through the hedge. I didn’t see the +girl, but I did see four natives with rifles. Smith has got a young +army of them up there, and they are picked smart men. I never thought +I could be seen, but I suppose I moved the bushes or something. As +their rifles went up to their shoulders I dropped and rolled down the +bank. If I’d not done that I should have been jewelled in four holes, +like Sweetling’s presentation watch that he’s so proud of. You leave it +alone, my son. It’s not healthy.” + +“You never tried sending in a native with a note for the girl?” +suggested Pentwin. + +“It’s like this. There’s a pack of servants there, and there are the +gents with rifles. But to every other native the place is taboo. +There’s not enough tobacco and coloured shirts in the world to bribe +a native to try to get in. You might get a boy to go as far as the +entrance and holloa. The guard would turn up, and he could hand over +his letter. But the chances are that the letter would go straight to +the King, or to Uncle Lechworthy, or to the doctor--who’s a bit of a +boss there just now.” + +“What doctor’s that?” + +“Soames Pryce. On the committee here, and a pretty tough proposition +too. The girl fell ill--very ill--rotten. Pryce pulled her through and +is stopping on. He’s got Lechworthy in his pocket to do what he likes +with, they tell me.” + +“I see,” said Pentwin. “Well, things being so, I shan’t bother about +the girl.” + +To do Pentwin justice he had never in the least bothered about +the girl. He knew that he would need shortly to communicate with +a person in the King’s house, and he wished to know how to do it, +but that person would not be Hilda Auriol. He now permitted himself +to be initiated by Lord Charles Baringstoke into the mysteries of +lizard-racing, and took his losses with equanimity. He won them back, +and more too, at bridge that evening, and had the honour of being +congratulated on his game by the great Sir John Sweetling himself. + +“A very pleasant, cheery little fellow,” said Sir John when Pentwin +had gone up to bed. “Self-made man, I should say. Not much education +or manners to boast of. But he’s unpretentious and good-hearted, and +his bridge is really excellent.” Nobody values unpretentiousness more +highly than the incurably pretentious. + +Pentwin occupied the room which had been Bassett’s. He had heard the +story of Bassett, but he was not a nervous man. Alone in his own room, +his air of careless cheerfulness vanished. He looked quite serious, +but not in the least depressed. He had the air of a man playing a +difficult game, but a man who had played difficult games before and +with success. + +From his breast-pocket he took a small canvas envelope, which contained +all the papers that he had brought with him, including a wad of Bank +of England notes and a proof of his real identity. From the envelope +he took a sheet of memoranda, and added to them with a sharp-pointed, +indelible pencil in a microscopic writing. He wrote slowly, though he +was familiar with the cipher which he was using, and replaced the paper +in the envelope. + +In pyjamas and slippers he paced up and down the room. Through the open +window he could see high up in the distance a tangle of lights among +dark trees, where the King’s house stood. + +“Well,” he said to himself, as he had often said before, “one must see +how things work out.” He placed under his pillow the canvas envelope, a +revolver, and a leather bag containing twenty-eight sovereigns and some +odd silver. Then he put out his lamp and got into bed. + +He could hear a faint murmur of voices below. Then steps came up the +stairs, and the voices became audible. The two men were standing at +the top of the stairs now. + +“You’ve no reason to be nervous,” said a querulous voice, which Pentwin +recognised as Mast’s. “You can depend on me, Sir John.” + +“But can I?” said a deeper voice. “It will be at the risk of your life.” + +“Why can’t you tell me plainly here, and now what it is? Why wait? I’ve +shown discretion?” + +“Of late? Yes. But don’t talk so loudly.” + +“I don’t care one straw about the risk of my life. When the time comes +for me to make good my word I shall do it. I’m only too glad that +you’ve given me the chance. It amuses Dr Pryce to treat me as a fool +and a baby. He’ll see. Well, that doesn’t matter, I don’t want to talk +about myself.” + +“Quite right. Don’t talk--it’s what you do which counts. Now you’ve got +to be patient. You can’t eat your dinner till it’s cooked. You--” + +The voices died away down the passage. Pentwin heard a shutting of +doors. All was still. “Now,” thought Pentwin, “I wonder what game is on +there.” But it troubled him very little, and in a few minutes he was +asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Lechworthy’s project for a pamphlet dealing with mission work in the +South Seas had never been of a very ambitious character. It was to be +nothing more than the notes of a passing traveller, with no intention +of comprehensiveness or finality, designed only to awaken more interest +in the missions. Very rarely did Lechworthy lay aside any work that he +had projected and actually begun; persistence and self-reliance had +been the distinguishing notes of his commercial career. But now he +gathered together the memoranda that he had already made, wrapped them +in a big envelope, endorsed it and sealed it. + +“Hilda,” he said, “you remember an idea I had of writing something +about the missionary work, you know--I’ve given that up.” + +“Yes,” said Hilda, who understood him well, “I suppose so. There’s a +good deal else, isn’t there?” + +Lechworthy’s mind had always been far less constricted than his +opponents had supposed, and he was beginning now to adjust himself to +the new ideas and facts that had lately come within his experience. +Some change of view had been dawning upon him before he ever reached +Faloo. His belief in Christianity as expounded by the evangelical +section of the Church of England remained unshaken, the main pillar +of his life as it had ever been. He still felt the encouragement of +missionary enterprise to be part of his religious duty. But he had seen +things, and he had lost faith in some of the faithful. + +He had found quite good men making hypocrites and calling them native +converts, and had regretted that the wisdom of the serpent is so seldom +joined to the harmlessness of the dove. He had found that the teaching +of Christianity had involved too often the teaching of much which +was worthless in European civilisation and positively dangerous when +transported to these islands. With many illustrations the King had made +that clear to him. He had found, too, that much good work was being +done by men whom he regarded as lost heretics and spoke of as “Romans.” +To write the truth as he had found it might do harm. And here, in this +remote island, out of the political and commercial atmosphere that had +sometimes distorted his vision, and far from the petty wars of sects, +specious misrepresentation refused to be called by any prettier name. +Hilda herself would not have shrunk from it with more acute disgust. + +Accustomed as he was to regard all that happened to him as specially +ordained by Providence, he meekly submitted to the change in his plans +which it seemed to him that Providence had directed. The work which he +had designed had been taken out of his hands; it might be that some +vainglorious thoughts had mingled with that design. And other work had +been given him. He regarded it as no blind chance which had brought +him to Faloo, had saved him from Bassett’s revolver and Hilda from the +island fever, and had put him into the hands of this strange native +king, with his scheme for making of his own little island a refuge +for some remnant of his race against the devastating inroad of an +unsuitable civilisation. + +In his new work Lechworthy was yoked with an unbeliever, or at least +with one who doubted. The King made no profession of Christianity. +With the fundamental facts of Christianity he was already acquainted, +and for a philosophical discussion of them he was always ready. He +professed a general toleration and a readiness to be convinced by +events. But he left Lechworthy with no more than a conviction of his +honesty and a hope for his future. + +“You see,” said the King, one evening, “we are very good and mild +people here, and we wish to please. On some islands they fight very +often, and they eat man. But my people are gentle, unless they are +greatly hurt, and so also am I. You, too, I specially wish to please, +and a little lie is easy and costs nothing. But suppose you find me +out, what then? Would you be pleased?” + +“I should not, sir,” said Lechworthy. “I should resent it. In fact, it +would make it impossible for us to work together.” + +“All right. Very good. That is what I thought. So I do not say I think +just the same as you and repeat pieces of your sacred books. It would +be pleasant but untrue. So when I say something else that may please +you, then you can believe me. You go to get me British protection, to +shut out the white men, to leave Faloo for its own people. But you +want Protestant religion. I say that shall be. In return I give this +Protestant religion a very good chance. I bring in the best native +converts I find, and they shall teach the religion. Not boots, and +square-face, and English weights and measures, but just the religion. +And I build a fine church all correct. If I do not do all I have said, +then I am a liar and you may take the British protection away from us +again.” + +Lechworthy smiled patiently. “You will keep talking as if I carried +British protection in my pocket. I hope that something can be done, and +I shall do my best. But how often have I told you that it is all very +doubtful and may end in nothing?” + +“No,” said the King, stolidly, “you are a political man, just the same +as Gladstone. So you understand how this can be managed.” + +“But I’m not at all the same as Gladstone,” said Lechworthy. “I have +not the gifts, nor the position, nor the influence that he had. I--” + +“But still you will do it. You have a newspaper, much money, many +friends. I think you too modest. If you wish you will do it. If you do +it I will give your Protestant religion a very good chance.” + +“Wouldn’t the chance be better,” said Lechworthy, “if you allowed one +white missionary. I could select the man myself--a man who would be in +sympathy with your views.” + +“It is not then a religion for all races?” asked the King. “Without +the help of the white man it cannot work--eh?” These were calculated +questions. + +Gradually he brought Lechworthy to agree with him. In the face of the +doubter Lechworthy felt that he himself must show no doubt. In uplifted +moments he did really feel enthusiastic and confident. + +Lechworthy went on in a steady and business-like way, preparing +his appeal for a native Faloo, and requiring from the King endless +information. Were the people sober? They were. As a matter of fact +they had no chance of drinking. Were they industrious? Here the King +hesitated a little. The people of his race were naturally less active +than Europeans. But they could be made to work--oh, yes. What were the +statistics as to the prevalence of crime and violence? There were no +statistics, but the King could give a general assurance. Above all, was +the Government strong and stable, able to control the inhabitants, and +properly representative of their interests? + +“But I myself am the Government,” said Smith, slightly aggrieved. “And +what does it matter?” + +“I must show that your people are quiet and orderly, and that they can +with safety and humanity be left to themselves; that no interference, +even in the guise of help, from the more civilised nations is required +here. It is part of the foundation of the whole thing--the essential +foundation.” + +And Lechworthy went on collecting such facts and concrete instances as +he could, showing an appetite for names and figures that dismayed the +King. None the less, the King was quite docile and did his best. Either +by the extent of his knowledge, or by the extent of his ignorance, he +was always astounding Lechworthy. + +The Exiles’ Club also astounded--and possibly illuminated--Lechworthy. +He got on well, amazingly well, with Dr Pryce, whom he could not help +liking and admiring, and to whom he was very deeply and sincerely +grateful, but Pryce was very reticent as to his fellow-members. It was +the King who was Lechworthy’s principal source of information, and the +King had many strange stories to tell of the Exiles’ Club. + +Lechworthy had not often been brought into contact with bad men and +criminals, and his idea of the bad man was crude to the point of +childishness. He would have admitted that we were all sinners, and that +even the best of men have their trivial defects and lapses, but he +had always thought of criminals as men bad all through, bad in every +thought and act. He had never realised the share in humanity that even +the worst men sometimes hold. + +It did not surprise him that there were occasional scenes of disorder +and excess at the Exiles’ Club, but it did surprise him to find that as +a rule all was orderly and well-organised, and that, without policeman +or magistrate, they obeyed the laws that they had been forced to make. +It did surprise him to hear that the Rev. Cyril Mast, when he first +came to the island, instituted a Sunday morning service, and that +several members of the club, Sir John Sweetling among them, attended it +regularly. It was Mast himself who, under an acute and slightly maudlin +sense of his own unworthiness, had discontinued these services. + +“Yes,” said Smith, simply, “this Mast lives badly, talks badly, drinks +very much. But he is a religious man and most unhappy about it. If he +had a choice I think he would sooner be quite good.” + +“Every man has the choice,” said Lechworthy, firmly; but to himself he +admitted that every man has not the same kind of choice. + +The King was perfectly fair, too, in speaking of the trouble between +the exiles and the natives. It was due to one special cause, and it was +a cause which drove the natives mad; it made them forget all benefits +that they had received, and include both the innocent and the guilty in +one condemnation. + +“The innocent?” said Lechworthy. + +“Yes, innocent so far as the natives are concerned. The native servants +at the club are treated well as a rule, well fed and well paid, and +they get many presents. Some of the members have handled them roughly +at times, through drink or anger, but that is uncommon, and Sir John +does not like it. If any of them is sick then Pryce comes and makes +him well again, just as he is making your niece well again, and never +anything to pay. The native who has something good--fish or fruit or +fresh milk, can sell it better to the white man than to another native. +It is a few of the younger men at the club who have greatly wronged my +people, but there are many of my people who would like to destroy them +all.” + +“I wish you could tell me more of this Dr Pryce. Apart from all he has +done for us I like him. I can’t understand your ideas about him.” + +“What ideas?” + +“When Hilda was ill you said--truly, I think--that Dr Pryce could +save her. But you said it would be necessary to frighten him. Did you +frighten him? Why was it necessary?” + +“I thought he might like to kill her--you too. But I did not frighten +him, and I believe I was wrong.” + +“And that story of yours about the _Snowflake_?” + +“I do not know. He asked me to get him a passage on the _Snowflake_. +I wondered--and then I warned you. I said the ship and all aboard her +would be lost. I think I was right then, and that it would not be so +now.” + +“Well, sir, I think you were wrong. He knows that I would give him that +passage, that I’d give him the boat, that I’d give him anything. He has +asked for nothing.” + +“That is because, when your niece was ill, I made a little mistake, and +he saw that I suspected him. If he is suspected then his plan is no +good. He would know that.” + +“It’s not an easy thing to find a good man who’ll sacrifice his life +for his friends. Why should Dr Pryce do it for the scum at the Exiles’ +Club?” + +Smith shook his head. “I do not understand him,” he said. “He is the +one man there that I do not see through. He is straight--yes, but then +he has plenty. He does not take much care of his own skin. I myself +have seen him risk his life--just for a game, for the sport. Why not +then also for the sake of the men with whom he has lived for so long?” + +“But you think he means us no harm now?” + +The King waved his hand, as though to put the suggestion aside. +“I leave him here alone with you. He takes you out--you and your +niece--shows you the island. Very well. Every day he has a hundred +chances, if he meant harm. If I did not know that he meant no harm he +would have no chance at all. You are the guest of the King of Faloo, +and that is an important thing with me. Besides, on your safety all my +plan depends.” + +“I’m glad you think that way about him now. You certainly would not be +able to convince me of the opposite. Why did he ever come to Faloo?” + +The King shrugged his shoulders. “I did once ask him that question. +I have not asked it of many of the exiles. The man they call Charles +will chat and laugh about anything, past or present. Bassett once, when +he had drunk a little cognac, told me about himself. Mast has made +confessions when he was drunk, and said they were all lies when he was +sober again. But most of them will not speak of the past, and questions +make them very angry. However, I was very sick, and Pryce looked after +me. Perhaps he saved my life--who knows? So I thought he would make me +his friend, and one night when he had sat late with me I did ask him.” + +“And what did he say?” + +“He said, ‘Go to the devil!’ and put the little thermometer-machine in +my mouth.” + +“Well,” said Lechworthy, “I’ve half a mind to ask him myself.” + +“If you take my advice, then no. If he wishes to tell you, he will tell +you. If he does not wish it will be no good to ask.” + +The general tendency of Lechworthy’s mind was optimistic. His +perplexities did not lead him to depression. With a complete +confidence in an omnipotent power of good, cognisant of and concerned +in the smallest details of even the least of the human swarm, pessimism +is impossible. Side by side with “I do not understand” comes the +consolatory “I do not need to understand.” It is probable that a +patient submission to the limitation of knowledge, at those very points +where the thirst to know is most acute, is one of the conditions of +happiness. It is rare among the thoughtful men of the day. + +His nature being simple and without vanity, the ludicrous had no +terrors for him. When, for example, Tiva and Ioia made for him a +garland of flowers, he wore it with as little concern as he would have +worn a hat, and met the cheerful chaff of Hilda or the doctor quite +unperturbed. He took a paternal interest in Tiva and Ioia, but after +one trial relinquished any attempt to instruct them in Christianity. +Their readiness to make any declaration which they thought was wanted, +without the slightest regard to its basis in fact, baffled him, and +their unintentional irreverence appalled him. He had to admit that +his knowledge of the native mind was insufficient for his purpose. +He found himself at times regarding these pleasant, brown, graceful, +unthinking creatures rather as some new kind of pet animal than as +human beings; and, finding himself in this attitude, repented of it. He +and Hilda learned from them a native game, a sort of “knuckle-bones.” +It is doubtful whether Tiva or Ioia cheated the more shamelessly at +it; when detected, they laughed cheerfully. In return he taught them +to avoid a frequent use of the word “damn” as a simple intensive, and +answered so far as he could their many questions about Queen Victoria +and the British method of executing murderers. He was equally ready to +instruct them about tube railways and telephones. But when he spoke of +such things they became very polite but asked no questions; they did +not believe a word he said on those subjects and were not interested. + +It was a time of relief after danger--danger to his own life and to +Hilda’s. And of any further danger that threatened Lechworthy knew +little or nothing. But the patrol at the King’s house got plenty of +shooting-practice under the direction of the King himself; and the King +wore the air of a man who was watching and listening, always listening. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Lechworthy, instructed by Dr Soames Pryce, caught fishes with names +like music and colours like the rainbow. Also, instructed by Dr Soames +Pryce, he mastered the management of his simple snap-shot camera and +learned developing and printing. Every day he was busy with King +Smith in working out the details of the scheme for a native Faloo and +preparing draft statements to advocate it in England. “My holiday!” he +exclaimed to Hilda. “Why, I’ve never had so much to do in my life. And +I like it.” + +Hilda, on the other hand, did very little. She had been since her +illness quieter and gentler. She was listless and at times a little +melancholy. She let her management of her uncle slip through her +fingers, and even ceased to manage herself; she was ready for anything +that Tiva or Ioia suggested, unless, of course, it happened to be +something that she thought Dr Pryce would not like. Her uncle, vaguely +conscious of the change in her, said that she was still a little +weakened by her illness. Hilda put it all down to the enervating +climate. Tiva and Ioia, who had their own ideas, produced for her a +new music--songs in the native tongue that spoke also in the universal +tongue. They sang one moonlit night on the verandah outside Hilda’s +room, when she had just gone to bed. It was the music of ecstasy and +surrender. Hilda, in her night-gown, stepped bare-footed across the +room and pushed the plaited blind aside. “Tell me what the words of +that mean,” said Hilda. + +Tiva hesitated. She threw her head back and her dark poetical eyes +looked up to the golden moon. “He mean,” she said in a voice that was +like a caress, “he mean ‘I love you pretty dam much.’” + +“You darlings!” said Hilda. “Sing it all through once more, please.” + +“Thank you so much,” she called when the music stopped, and gave one +long sigh. These island nights, she thought, were beyond words, too +beautiful, overpowering. + +On the following morning Mr Lechworthy desired to speak with Dr Pryce, +and the two men walked in the garden together. + +“Doctor,” said Lechworthy, “I’ve said very little so far about all +you’ve done for us. You haven’t let me,” he added plaintively. + +“You see, Lechworthy,” said Pryce, “you do exaggerate the thing so. +If a bricklayer who had nothing to do came and laid a few bricks for +you, you wouldn’t think it anything to make a fuss about--especially if +he did it because he liked it. If an unemployed doctor does a little +doctoring for you, and enjoys doing it, that’s the same thing. It’s +what he’s there for. Really, Hilda’s case gave me some new and valuable +experience, and I’m very glad to have had it.” + +The transition from Miss Auriol to Hilda had come at one point +of Hilda’s illness; it had come by natural evolution from the +circumstances. Afterwards, when Pryce resumed the “Miss Auriol,” Hilda +wanted to know if he was angry with her about anything, and the “Miss +Auriol” was then definitely abandoned. + +“Well,” said Lechworthy, “that’s your way of looking at it. But you +must see my way of looking at it too. Now I don’t want to think about +the financial side.” + +“There is none and can be none.” + +“So you have decided, and I’ve submitted to it. But I tell you this--if +any doctor in London had done as much for me, my conscience would +not have let me sleep until I had paid him a very big fee indeed; and +even then I should have felt indebted to him every day of my life. If +I can pass over that financial side it’s because even in the very few +days that I have known you I have come to regard you as a friend. I do +not make friends easily. In questions of politics, and even, I fear, +in questions of faith, we are as far apart as the poles. But I--I’ve +formed a very high opinion of you, doctor, and I want your friendship.” + +“Well,” said Pryce, “you force my hand. I thought it would come to it. +Before you say anything further, Lechworthy, there is something you +ought to be told. Sit down here, won’t you? At one time, to save the +men of the Exiles’ Club, I was ready and eager to murder you and many +others.” + +“You meant,” said Lechworthy, “to sink the _Snowflake_?” + +“I did.” + +Lechworthy did not look shocked, nor even surprised. “Well,” he said, +“the King warned me not to give you a passage. We speak in confidence, +you and I; you will not let him know that I told you this and will not +show any resentment.” + +Pryce smiled. “Of course not.” + +“Now at first, doctor, I said to myself that you must be a very wicked +man. I was horrified. And then--I thank God for it--I heard the voice +of conscience. That voice said, ‘Before you judge others, look at +yourself, Lechworthy.’ Now I’m going to tell you. Some years ago a +candidate for Parliament, a man not of my colour, asked permission +to address the men at my works in their dinner-hour. I ought to have +refused him altogether, or to have seen to it that he had a fair +hearing. I could have done either, and either would have been right. I +did what was wrong. I said that if he addressed them it must be at his +own risk, well knowing that he would take the risk. And then I dropped +a hint here and a hint there that if intruders said that they would +chance rough handling they could hardly grumble if they got it. That +was enough. The candidate turned up and was fool enough to bring his +wife with him. Stones were thrown, and the woman was seriously injured; +it was a chance that she was not killed. There’s a well-known saying, +doctor, ‘_qui facit per alium facit per se_.’ It’s true too. If that +woman had died it would have been I--and not the man who threw the +stone--who would have been in the sight of God her murderer. Some of +my men went to prison over that affair; when they came out I did what +I could to make up to them for it--because they had been punished for +my fault. That incident did me harm in my business and in my political +career, and that I could stand; but it also gave the enemy their +opening, and injured the good cause that I was trying to help. It’s +terribly easy to be misled by one’s political passions; when one is +doing evil that good may come one forgets that one is doing evil. That +was one of the things I had to keep in my mind when Smith gave me that +warning about you. But there were others. You won’t mind if I put it +plainly.” + +“By all means,” said Pryce, rolling a cigarette. + +“I thought about the Exiles’ Club. Here are these poor chaps, I thought +to myself, who have found a corner of the world to hide in. They no +longer constitute a danger to Society. They ask nothing but to be +left alone--to be hunted no longer. Can it be wondered at that they +thought my coming meant the loss of their liberty or their lives? I am +no hunter of men, but they didn’t know that. And if they thought that, +can it be wondered at that they were ready to take any step, however +desperately wicked, to get rid of the informer and save themselves? Ah! +and I thought something else, doctor, and it turned out to be right +too.” + +“And what was that?” + +“I thought to myself, the man who is to sink the _Snowflake_ must +face an almost absolute certainty of his own death. He must sacrifice +himself--body and soul--to help the others. If ever I see him I shall +see the finest man on the island.” + +Pryce laughed. “This is becoming grotesque, Lechworthy. If you can +understand the line I took, and can forgive it because you understand +it, that’s far more than I have any right to expect, and I’m grateful. +But for goodness sake don’t try to put me upon a pedestal. It--it won’t +wash, you know.” + +“Listen to me a bit, Pryce. Hilda fell ill. The King told me you were +the only man here who could save her--otherwise she would die. But he +pointed out that it gave you a chance--that there would be a great +risk.” + +“That was nonsense. Smith’s a barbarian and doesn’t understand things. +I came to you as a doctor.” + +“Anyhow, you came, and I saw you and talked to you. I’ve come across +many men in my life, doctor, and I make up my mind about them quickly +now. If Hilda had died I should still have been quite sure that you +had done your very best for her, and would have seen to it that the +King took the same view. But you saved her. Now I’ll tell you something +else; if Hilda had not fallen ill, and we had disregarded the King’s +warning and taken you aboard the _Snowflake_--well, I don’t know what +you would have done.” + +“Don’t know myself,” said Pryce. + +“But I do know that Hilda and I would have been safe. You would not +have carried out your intentions.” + +“Possibly not.” + +“And for telling me of those intentions, which you were not bound to +do, I respect you the more. You may have meant to be my enemy, but you +have been indeed my friend. And that brings me to what I wanted to say. +You’ve done more for me than I can say. Now then, what will you let me +do for you? Out of friendship tell me. I set no limit.” + +“You’re a good man, Lechworthy,” said Pryce, “and you set no limit. But +though I’m not a good man, I do. I accept your friendship gladly and +I’m proud to have it, but we’d better let the rest go.” + +“Well,” said Lechworthy, “I had an idea, but it’s rather difficult to +tell about it because I don’t want to put impertinent questions to you. +You might fairly tell me that your private history is no concern of +mine.” + +“Yes,” said Pryce, “up at the club it is not etiquette to speak about +what happened before we came here. The chaps there have never shown any +curiosity as to my story, and they have never been told it. I think +I know what they imagine--something quite unspeakable and having, as +it happens, no basis in fact. It has never mattered to me. They don’t +care, and I don’t. And what was your idea?” + +“I want to take you back to England with us. I believe in you, and I +can’t bear to see you wasting your life here. I don’t know what you’ve +done, but I can’t believe it is anything which can’t be cleared up and +put right. Anything that my influence and persistent exertions could +do for you would be done. Now, is there any reason against it?” + +“As I said before, you’re a good man, Lechworthy. But, unfortunately, +there is every reason against it. It would be quite impossible. Look +here, I’ll tell you the story. There was a woman who had been married +for ten years. They had been for her ten years of hell--a peculiar +and special hell that you know nothing about. And then her husband +fell ill, and I attended him. He was rather loathsome, but I did what +I could for him and he began to recover. One day I was called to the +house and was told that he was dead; I went up, satisfied myself as to +the cause of death, and said nothing. I never told the woman that I +knew what she had done, let her believe that I was deceived, and gave a +certificate that the man had died from his illness. You see, she was a +good woman by nature, but had been driven near to madness by ten years +of--well, only a doctor could appreciate it. I was a very young man, +and I was heartily sorry for her; her husband was better dead anyway. +Three months later this woman, being a woman, broke down and confessed +everything. Exhumation and discovery followed--arsenic was a stupid +thing to have used. There was my ruin ready-made.” + +“So you came to Faloo?” + +“Not then. It was not fear, but disgust, that drove me to Faloo. I +settled my little account with the law. They gave me a year in the +second division, and it was considered that I had been let off lightly. +When I came out, I found of course that I had been turned out of my +profession. Two stories were confidently believed about me, and both +were false. The first was that I had conspired with the woman to kill +the man--that had been distinctly disproved, but it made no difference. +The second was equally false but less easy to disprove. It was the +corollary that the knowing young-man-of-the-world always puts to such +a case--that the woman had been my mistress. The only reason why I +was not turned out of my clubs was because I had forestalled them by +resigning. Some old friends cut me, but I had expected that. The old +friends who did not cut me were more difficult to bear--I could not +stand the duffer who failed to hide that he was proudly conscious +of being merciful. I happened to hear from one of these men that a +desk-waiter at one of my old clubs had cut and run with a deal of the +club’s money. I remembered that waiter, and in many ways he wasn’t a +bad chap--he’s our head-waiter at the Exiles’ Club to-day. I hunted +out his wife, thinking she might need some help. I saw her through +a bad illness and gave her money, and she was grateful. She told me +about Faloo, and I decided that moment to come here. The good people +wouldn’t have me, so I thought I’d try the wicked. I’ve been here ever +since--and, by God, I’ve suffered less from the sins of Faloo than I +did from the virtues of my own country. It’s over now. The exiles must +leave this place, of course, and they know it. They are probably making +their plans now. The only plan I’ve got is never to set foot in England +again--never, never!” + +It was in vain that Lechworthy argued. He did not pretend to condone +what the doctor had done. But he pointed out that after all it was done +under circumstances which would arouse some sympathy. The punishment, +apart from the legal punishment, had been slanderous, vindictive and +shameful; it might, if it were put before the public in the proper +light, produce a strong reaction in the doctor’s favour. He might be +reinstated in his profession. + +“Lechworthy,” said Pryce, with rather grim good-humour, “when I was a +little boy I did not like to have my head patted. And nowadays I don’t +think I should like to be defended and excused; it doesn’t seem to me +to be the treatment for a grown-up man.” + +“You’re too proud, doctor,” said Lechworthy. “Think of my position. +If I’d never come here you could have gone on undisturbed. I must go +on with the King’s great scheme. I’ve put my hand to the plough and +I can’t look back. The saving of a race is a grand thing, and I feel +called to do my utmost to help. It’s work almost comparable to the work +of Wilberforce, whose name I bear. But if it succeeds, then I drive you +from the island which you have made your refuge, and scatter the men +whom you have made your friends.” + +“You may make your mind easy, Lechworthy. I’ve thought the thing +over at length now, and I don’t take quite the view that I did at +first. There are too many people in England to-day who know of Faloo, +therefore, sooner or later, the police would get to know of it. Faloo +may be an independent nation having no extradition or other treaties, +but in practice that would not amount to a row of beans. You do these +poor devils who have been my companions for the last few years no +disservice; if you put them on the run again, you at anyrate give them +a good start. You do me no disservice either, for I’ve grown pretty +restless of late and pretty sick of things. I shall be glad to start +wandering again.” + +“Then there’s one thing you must let me do. When Hilda and I reach +Tahiti we must part from the _Snowflake_. We’ve got fond of her, and +we don’t want to sell her. We’d sooner a friend had her. You can well +afford to keep her. I shall send her back to Faloo, doctor, and in +future she will be yours. You will start your wanderings in her.” + +Pryce reflected a moment. “Very well,” he said. “I shall sail in the +boat I meant to sink, but I don’t know that it matters. Thank you very +much, Lechworthy. I shall be glad to take the _Snowflake_ and to let +you be disproportionately generous to me.” + +They shook hands on it. + +The meeting of the committee of the Exiles’ Club had been fixed for +the following day, but Pryce decided after all not to be present at it. +He wrote a short note to Sweetling telling him that he would agree with +any arrangements made for winding up the club, and that there was no +further news. He added that a general meeting would of course be called +and all the members informed. + +That night, as on several previous nights, the King and Lechworthy +went to their work directly after dinner, and Hilda and Pryce were +left alone together. The air seemed hot and heavy, the smoke from the +doctor’s cigarette hung in lifeless coils. + +“Hilda,” said the doctor, “it ought to be pleasant down by the pool +to-night. Shall we go there?” + +“Yes,” said Hilda. “I should like that.” + +The sky was powdered with stars. The falling water made an unending +melody, and here by the pool the air seemed cooler and fresher. + +Hilda, lying at full length on the mat that had been spread for her, +spoke drowsily. + +“To-night,” she said, “nothing that happened before is real or matters +a bit. I’ve always been here, lying by the pool and listening to the +water--here at the world’s end, out of all the trouble. Is there really +a place called London?” + +“Wonder what’s going on there just now?” said Pryce. “Dawn perhaps. Did +you often see the dawn in London, Hilda?” + +“Yes, driving back from dances, with the violin music still swinging in +my head, tired out and feeling as if I should never sleep again. The +dawn seems cruel somehow then. But you know.” + +“It’s long since I was there, but I remember a dawn down by the river. +Spots of light were dotted across it where the bridges come. Then the +sky turned pale, without a touch of colour, and the lights on the +bridges went out. A mass of black in the Embankment gardens began to +sort itself out into shrubs and plants. About twenty minutes later you +could see the blue of the gardener’s lobelias. I hate lobelias.” + +“So do I,” echoed Hilda. “So do I.” + +“It was an anæmic, civilised dawn, different to the rush of glory we +get here. And the tattered derelicts that one met, trying to snatch +sleep on the seats, or wandering about and cursing God for having made +them another day. That was before I had ever heard of Faloo, but I +remember thinking even then that there ought to be a place somewhere +for the chaps who have gone under--a refuge for the people for whom +civilisation has been too much.” + +“I want you to know,” said Hilda, “that I’ve heard your story. My uncle +told me. I made him.” + +“My very disreputable story,” said Pryce, grimly. “Well, it’s better +not to sail under false colours, isn’t it?” + +Her hand stole out and pressed his arm gently. “You must come back +to England with us,” she said, speaking quickly. “It’s too horrible +that you should have been wronged like this--punished and tortured and +maligned for an act of mercy. That’s a thing that must be put right. +These blind fools must be made to see. Oh, when I think about it, there +are people that I could kill.” + +“You’re splendid, Hilda. But it can’t be. One must take the world as +one finds it. If doctors who gave false death-certificates were not +severely punished, that would open the door--‘open the door’ is the +recognised phrase, I think--to all manner of crime. You see it has to +be. And though you might make a few kind people forgive what I did +wrongly, you could never make the world forgive me for having been in +prison. I should never get back to where I was. But it doesn’t matter +much, you know. Somewhere in these islands I shall find my place. And +if I’m ever inclined to feel sore about it I can always remember that +I’ve met you, and what you thought and said, bless you!” + +“You won’t come back to England?” + +“Can’t, Hilda.” + +She sat up now. She plucked a leaf, and pressed its cool surface to her +warm lips, and flung it aside. Then she looked steadily into his eyes +and spoke deliberately. + +“Then I too ... am not going back.” + +“What are you saying, Hilda?” + +Her eyes closed. “Don’t you know? I know, though you have never told +me--said no word of it. I know that you love me just as surely as I +love you, dear. I know, too, why you have not told. It’s because you +saved my life, and because you think that if we went back to England +and you married me you would ruin it.” + +“I should not have let you know; I’ve not played the game,” said Pryce. +“True? Why, it’s the only truth in my life. I love you, Hilda. I +worship you. I adore you. I know now that I could never have let you +go without telling you. But I know, too, that I am not even worthy to +speak to you--to kiss the hem of your garment.” + +“Come to me,” she murmured almost inaudibly, and swayed towards him. + +They lay side by side now, his arms about her, his lips on hers. For a +while neither spoke. + +“Three more days,” he said at last. “Three more days in Paradise, +dearest.” + +“Not only three more days, but all our lives,” she whispered. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +“Hanson,” said Sir John Sweetling, “you are leaving to me all +arrangements for the removal of Smith.” + +“I am,” said Hanson. “In fact, I would sooner know nothing about it.” + +“Well, the time’s getting very near.” + +“It is.” + +“In connection with the--er--removal of Smith, I should like to take +Mast fully into our confidence. We have the committee this morning, and +Pryce won’t be there. I’ve heard from him. It is my belief that you are +right, and that Pryce cares for nothing but Hilda Auriol, and won’t +come here again. You and Mast and myself will make a solid triumvirate.” + +“Very well,” said Hanson. “I don’t think there’ll be any harm in it.” + +So Sir John Sweetling unfolded this scheme to Mast, and outlined the +horrible part which Mast himself would be expected to play in it. But +he put the best appearance on it, as he did upon everything. + +“Smith is a traitor,” said Sir John, sternly. “He owes everything +to us. Before we came, he owned practically nothing but unsaleable +land. Now he is established as a trader, and is doing really well. +Suddenly he throws us over. Why? Simply because he thinks that with +Lechworthy as a partner he will be able to screw a little more money +out of it for himself. He betrays us all to Lechworthy, and I consider +even now that disaster may come of it. For that crime--there is no +other word for it--the punishment is death, and it will be for you +to administer the punishment. It’s rough-and-ready justice perhaps, +but it is justice. When a coloured native race and a white race live +together on an island, the natives must be made to take their proper +position; the penalty for treachery must be sharp and sudden if it is +to act as a deterrent. I’m speaking of principles which are tried and +sound--principles that have helped to build up the Empire. Hanson is +fully with me. The lesson must be given, if only as a salutary warning +to the other natives.” + +“I’m to do this?” asked Mast, staring stupidly. “That was what you +meant--that I was to kill Smith?” + +“Precisely. The work of a public executioner is unpleasant work, though +of course no moral responsibility attaches to it. The responsibility +rests with Hanson and myself, who discussed the man’s case and decided +what was to be done with him. Of course if you find yourself too shaky +and nervous, we must get another man for the work. But you’ve made a +good many protestations, Mast. Precisely because it is unpleasant work, +you ought to accept it and to be glad of a chance of repairing the +injury you have done to the members of this club.” + +“I shall do it,” said Mast, doggedly. “But I don’t see how it repairs +anything. I don’t see how it helps us at all.” + +It was only then that Sir John spoke of the certainty that a disputed +succession would follow upon the death of Smith, and of the use that +the exiles would be able to make of it. It was so much better to +represent Smith’s death as a punishment for a past crime than as a +murder for a future advantage. + +Mast remained spiritless and rather sullen. He was a little stunned at +finding what was required of him. He had liked Smith--had been rather +intimate with him at one time. + +“There’s no other way?” he asked. + +Sir John became a little impatient. “That’s all been talked out. Look +here, Mast, if your promises were so much hot air, and you’re too +frightened to do what you said you would, own up at once and waste no +more of our time.” + +Mast scowled. “On the day that Lechworthy leaves Faloo the King will +die,” he said. “I shall kill him. Does that satisfy you?” + +“Quite.” + +“Well, I want to think it over. I needn’t wait for this damned +committee meeting, need I?” + +“Of course you must wait. Pryce is away, and we must have three for the +look of the thing. It won’t take twenty minutes.” + +At the meeting Sir John read out Soames Pryce’s brief letter. “Well, +now,” he said, “what do you think, Hanson?” + +“Nothing to be done,” said Hanson, stolidly. “Read and noted, that’s +all. In Pryce’s absence we needn’t go through a farce of winding-up. We +can’t call a general meeting of the members yet, because we can’t yet +put before them the alternative scheme (of which Pryce knows nothing) +to which the majority of the committee are agreed.” + +“That is so,” said Sir John. Mast nodded assent. + +There was a meeting of three other men on the island that morning. The +King and Lechworthy had walked out together just beyond the garden of +the King’s house, when a little man came running along the road towards +them. The King recognised him at once as the new member of the Exiles’ +Club. Pentwin had been presented to the King on landing. Now members of +the Exiles’ Club knew that they were not wanted in the neighbourhood of +the King’s house; moreover, the King reflected that one of these men +had already attempted Lechworthy’s life. The King was suspicious. + +Pentwin took off his hat and bowed profoundly to the King. Might he +be permitted? He wished to speak privately with Mr Lechworthy. He had +business of importance with him. + +“I think you haven’t,” said the King, bluntly. Lechworthy looked from +one to the other with mild surprise. + +The little man was not in the least offended. “Oh, but I can prove that +to Mr Lechworthy’s satisfaction,” he said smiling, and dived one hand +into his pocket. + +In a flash the King’s revolver was out, and covering him. “No, you +don’t,” said the King. + +Pentwin stepped back a pace. “It’s all right, sir,” he said +apologetically, “it’s only papers.” + +He drew an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Lechworthy. Smith +toyed pensively with his revolver. + +From the envelope Lechworthy drew a visiting-card printed in blue. It +bore the name of Mr Henry Parget. On the left-hand corner was printed +“Criminal Investigation Department, Scotland Yard.” The envelope +contained two other papers, and Lechworthy glanced quickly through them. + +“Quite correct apparently,” he said. “I don’t think, sir, there is +anything to fear. This gentleman really has business with me, and I +shall be glad to talk it over with him.” + +“You may assure yourself that I carry no weapons of any kind,” added +the man from Scotland Yard who had passed as Pentwin. + +The King did assure himself thoroughly--he had searched men before. +“You must understand,” he said, “why I am so careful, Mr Pentwin. My +friend, Mr Lechworthy, has already been shot at by one of the white +men here; the man who did it is dead.” + +“Quite natural that you should be careful, sir,” said Parget, smiling. +“And now may I get on to my business?” + +“Certainly. You will take him up to the house, Mr Lechworthy? That’s +right. And send one of the boys with him when he goes, will you? You +see, Mr Pentwin, a stranger wandering alone there would be shot at +once; I am careful for you as well as for Mr Lechworthy.” + +The King strode off down the road with a rapid and yet graceful gait. + +“Now, then, Mr Parget,” said Lechworthy, “keep close to me and you’ll +be all right.” + +They turned and entered the garden. + +“Grand place this, sir,” said Parget, looking round him. “I’ve seen +nothing like it in my life before. The King of this island seems a +pretty active man--bit suspicious too.” + +“You mustn’t mind that, Mr Parget.” + +“I don’t,” said Mr Parget, “I’d sooner be suspected wrongly than +rightly any day. I suppose, sir, you have very little difficulty in +guessing why I am here.” + +“None,” said Mr Lechworthy, “but I am wondering a little how it was +that Scotland Yard came to send you.” + +“Well, sir, to tell the truth, it was a bit of luck. You may have heard +of Pentwin’s Popular Bank.” + +“I’ve seen his advertisements; we’ve always refused them in my paper.” + +“And quite right too; the thing was obvious. Well, this chap Pentwin +seems to have realised that he’d come to the end of it, and he made his +preparations for leaving. But he had to skip before the preparations +were quite finished; in fact our men were into his house only twenty +minutes after he’d left. A batch of letters came for Pentwin, and we +took the liberty of opening and reading them. One was from a Mrs Wyse, +widow of a man whom we wanted and never got. It seems he came out here +and committed suicide here. Well, Mrs Wyse was a friend of Pentwin’s--a +friend and perhaps a bit more. That letter was full of references to +the Exiles’ Club, mentioned Sweetling’s name, told Pentwin how to make +his application and send his subscription, and gave him his route to +the island. There was another letter of introduction enclosed. If those +letters had come one post earlier, there’s not a doubt that Pentwin +would have been safe in Faloo by now, and Scotland Yard would have been +none the wiser.” + +They had reached the house, and Lechworthy pushed forward a deck-chair. +“Sit down, won’t you?” he said. + +“Not sorry to,” said Parget. “I’ve been on my feet for three hours, +waiting for the chance to have a word with you. Well, as I was saying, +it was thought worth while to look into this Exiles’ Club, if only on +Sweetling’s account. We’ve wanted Sweetling for years and wanted him +badly. He was the Hazeley Cement swindle, as you may remember, and the +Tarlton Building Company, and a lot more.” + +“I do. In fact I wrote about him.” + +“And I daresay you were pretty severe with us for letting him get +away--no matter, we bear no malice. The public says nothing when we +hit, but it makes a lot of fuss when we miss. Well, I was told off +for this job. I’d got Mrs Wyse’s letter. I’d only got to call myself +Pentwin, and follow her instructions, and it was all plain sailing. +And a pretty haul I’ve made. There’s Sweetling my-lording it over +everybody; Hanson, who killed his girl; Mast--a nasty case; Fellowes, +who sold the secret explosive; Lord Charles Baringstoke, who forged his +uncle’s name. Trimmer, of the Cornish coal fraud--a whole lot of back +numbers nicely bound together.” + +“It’s all very well,” said Lechworthy, “it’s all very well, but you +can’t touch those men. Faloo is independent, and has no extradition +treaty with Great Britain.” + +“Very likely,” said Parget, with a laugh. “I’m not going to touch them. +All I’ve got to do is to report. I’m only a subordinate officer at +present. The rest will be for my chiefs to settle, and if they don’t +find some way of dealing with this cock-sparrow of an island, I’m a +Dutchman.” + +“Now to come to the point; what do you want with me, Mr Parget?” + +“I require you to assist an officer in the execution of his duty. I’m +in a hole. They made all the arrangements for me to get here, but +they left it to me to get away again the best way I could. Now if I +tried for a passage on Smith’s schooner, it wouldn’t do. I’ve paid my +subscription, and if I were Pentwin, Faloo would be the only place +for me. Why should I want to go? They’d smell a rat. That man Hanson +isn’t any too satisfied with me; he tried a bit of cross-examination +last night, and though I kept my end up I don’t like it. What I’ve +got to do is to disappear. There’s been a case of that before. There +was a chap called Duncombe who got too fond of a native girl that was +already--well--appropriated. He went out one fine night and he didn’t +come back. Everybody at the club knows that he was killed. So I talk a +deal about the native girls up at the club. I’ve the reputation of a +Lothario. Sir John Sweetling has given me a good dressing-down about +it already. As a matter of fact I’ve had nothing to do with these +wenches. I’ve got a girl at home and wish I was safe back again with +her. But that’s where it is, you know. If I go out one night, and don’t +come back, and leave all my luggage behind me, including two or three +letters to Pentwin and Pentwin’s pocket-knife with his name and address +on it, then even Hanson will have no doubt that I was Pentwin, and that +I have been speared or knived by a jealous man.” + +“Very likely. But what will you do really, Mr Parget? How does my help +come in?” + +“The night I disappear will be the night after the _Snowflake_ has +come back. You’ll send a note privately to the skipper that I shall +be coming aboard. I’ve learned to work a native canoe all right. On +the _Snowflake_ I shall lie low until you’re ready to sail. Nobody but +the King knows that I’ve spoken with you, for at the club I’ve always +professed to be scared of going near the King’s house, and I gather +that the King has nothing more to do with men from the club nowadays. +Besides, I fancy a word from you would keep him quiet. And then--well, +I should ask you to lend me some clothes, take me to Tahiti, and say +nothing to anybody. I pay for what I have, of course, and after Tahiti +I can manage for myself.” + +“Very well. I’ll do all that for you.” + +“Thank you very much. And I’m sorry to give so much trouble. The luck’s +with me to find a gentleman like you touring these islands just now.” + +“That’s all right. But I doubt if you’ll make as big a scoop out of it +as you think.” + +“You mean the extradition? Oh, that will be arranged somehow.” + +Mr Lechworthy was not thinking of extradition at all. He was thinking +that owing to his participation in the King’s scheme of a native Faloo +the exiles already had their warning, and long before Scotland Yard +had got its gun to its shoulder the birds would have flown far out +of range. But he said nothing of this to Parget at present; it might +possibly make a yarn for a dull evening on the _Snowflake_. + +“Of course,” added Parget, “I needn’t remind you, sir, that all I’ve +said has been said in confidence. Not one word--” + +“I assure you, Mr Parget, that I have no inclination to say a word. +I shall not even mention the matter to my niece until we are all +aboard the _Snowflake_. Your instructions to me will be carried out +absolutely.” + +“And when does the boat get in?” + +“The King thinks that with luck it might be here to-morrow or the day +after.” + +“I’ll keep a look-out. Thank you again, sir.” + +Lechworthy himself escorted the little man back to the garden entrance. +Parget saw the natives with their rifles and seemed a little puzzled. +“What does the King want all those men up here for? Where’s the danger? +What’s he afraid of?” + +“I can’t tell you,” said Lechworthy. “In fact, I don’t know. But I have +noticed that the King never does anything without a reason, and it is +generally a pretty good reason.” + +“Well,” said Parget, “they’re the finest set of natives I’ve seen yet +anywhere. I shan’t be round here again. We meet on the _Snowflake_. _Au +revoir_, Mr Lechworthy.” + +“_Au revoir_,” echoed Lechworthy, mechanically. + +There is a kind of insolence in _au revoir_, a confidence in the +future. Neither man ever saw the other again. + +Lechworthy wandered back to the house. He was deep in thought. From +the dark hidden pool, where Tiva and Ioia were bathing together, came +a burst of musical laughter. On the verandah he found Hilda, with +the wreath of white flowers that Ioia had brought her in her dark +hair; Soames Pryce stood on the steps below looking up at her, saying +something in a low voice to which she listened with happiness. + +Lechworthy’s mind was preoccupied, not only with his dream of a native +Faloo, but with this Parget, this scrap of London that met him suddenly +in the Southern Seas. He admired the courage and resource of the man, +as much as he hated his profession--necessary of course, lamentably +necessary, but scarcely ennobling and foreign to that way in which +Lechworthy had come to regard all sinners. Obviously Parget had heard +nothing of the impending dissolution of the club, and Lechworthy, who +did not know that this was a secret reserved for the committee, was +rather puzzled that Parget had not heard. On the _Snowflake_ he would +expound to Parget the scheme for a native Faloo, and his fears that the +members of the club had got to hear of it and would now disperse. Of +course Scotland Yard might still be able to close its hand on them--or +might not. Lechworthy smiled placidly. Those fibres of his being which +had made him a great Christian were curiously interwoven with those +other fibres which had made him a successful man of business. + +Not only was Lechworthy’s mind preoccupied. There was another reason +why he could not read the story in Hilda’s eyes. He was absolutely +blind to all sex romance. Every engagement among his wide circle of +friends and acquaintances came to him as a surprise, though it were +a foregone conclusion to the rest of the circle. He had found many +interests in life and absorbing interests outside the realm of sex +romance. Hilda, doubtless, would be married one day, but the day was +always very vague and very far away. Hilda had determined that her +uncle was to be told nothing at present. On the _Snowflake_ she would +tell him all, and slowly win him over. She would make him see that her +happiness was here with her lover--not in Europe without him. At Tahiti +she expected to part from her uncle, and to remain there until the +_Snowflake_ brought Pryce to her. + +“You see, dear,” she said, “just at the beginning of things one wants +to shut out all the rest of the world, even one’s nearest relatives +and people to whom one is devoted. In London that can never be. If +our engagement had been the normal product of a London season, you +would have had to take me to see people, and I should have had to take +you to see others, and it would have been all congratulations, and +interference, and horrors of that kind. Here, thank heaven, that can be +avoided. We will avoid it.” + +To everything Pryce agreed. “It isn’t that I don’t know, Hilda. I do. +I know I have no right to accept such a sacrifice as you make. I know +that nobody can think that I’ve been straight about this. It can’t +be helped. It doesn’t matter. Since last night, down by the pool, +it’s seemed to me as if since the world began only one thing has ever +mattered. Oh, it’s too good--too good to happen. Your uncle will insist +on carrying you off to England, and he will be right too.” + +“He would try to do that if he were an ordinary man with a conventional +set of views. He would not succeed, because I am of age and in this--in +this alone--I will not be controlled at all. But he is not an ordinary +man. He is as broad in some of his views as he is narrow in others. He +has little respect for social conventions, and he is losing some of +his respect for the law. He thinks nobody beyond reclamation--except +the ritualists and a few politicians. He has had the courage of his +opinions all his life; whatever his convictions have been, right or +wrong, he has always acted on them. Then, again, he trusts me as well +as he loves me. If I tell him that I know where my happiness is, he +will believe me, and he loves me too much to refuse it.” + +They talked a long time together that morning. Yet still, when all was +said, Pryce was haunted by the same thought. It was like a dream of +unearthly beauty, such as before he had never even imagined, a dream to +which the awakening must come. + +That evening the wind fell absolutely. The _Snowflake_ would +undoubtedly be delayed. The air was hot and still, and over the pool in +the garden there hung a steamy vapour. All living things in the island +were strangely silent. The night before the flying-foxes had screamed +and squabbled round the house. But to-night everything was silent, as +if waiting peacefully for some event. + +When they all came out on the verandah after dinner, the silence seemed +to oppress them so that they spoke in lower tones than usual. The King, +as if to break the spell, ordered Tiva and Ioia to make music, but +their song had a wild sorrow in it. + +“What music is that, Tiva?” asked Hilda, who sat deep in the shadow. + +Tiva answered abstractedly in her native tongue. The King translated, a +little impatiently: “She says that it is the music of this night. She +talks much nonsense.” + +There were a few moments of silence and then Lechworthy took his briar +pipe from his mouth and fired a calm point-blank question. + +“Doctor, what was it like, living with all those bad men at the club?” + +“With some of them,” said Pryce, meditatively, “one forgot that they +were bad men at all. Some were weak rotters, but I’ve found men just as +weak against whom, thanks to their circumstances, the law had never a +word to say. I suppose the fact is that the bad are not always bad and +the good are not always good; and for the sake of society the law has +to make a distinction which sometimes has no basis in fact.” + +“You do not surprise me,” said Lechworthy. “You rediscover an old +truth, that we are all sinners--God forgive us.” He sucked diligently +at his pipe for a few seconds, and resumed: “It’s struck me sometimes +that, even from the point of view of society, a man with habitual bad +temper, or a man who drinks hard, or a man who won’t work, or a man who +gambles with money that his family needs, may, though the law lets him +go free, do more harm than some who have robbed or even murdered.” + +Pryce, who had gone to bed earlier than usual that night, had been +asleep for an hour when he was awakened by a touch on the shoulder. + +“Come outside,” said the voice of King Smith. “Quietly--as quickly as +you can.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Pryce did not wait to dress. Thrusting his feet into a pair of +slippers, he hurried into the garden. There on the terrace the King +stood, pointing downward and seaward. But there was no need to point. + +Far below, amid the dark of the trees, a giant flame leaped hungry and +quivering into the air. A column of smoke rose vertically, the head +of the column spreading out in all directions against a grey sky; it +looked like some monstrous swaying mushroom. + +“Good God!” said Pryce. “It’s the club.” + +“Scarcely fifteen minutes ago; and now look. I’m going down there +directly, taking all the men here with me.” The King spoke in a quiet, +even voice. + +Pryce shook his head. “No good,” he said. “You can save nobody. The men +who are not out of that place already are dead. The whole show will +be burned to the ground in less than half-an-hour--you know how it’s +built. Wonder what started it. Some careless boozer, I suppose.” + +The King put one hand on his arm. “No,” he said. “The fire started +in two places at once, at either end of the building. It has come at +last--the rising of my people.” + +From below came faintly the sound of a crash, and for a moment the +stalk of that swaying mushroom was spangled high with a million sparks. + +“I had seen signs, but I thought I held them still. The leaders I +know--three brothers--men who--” + +A shrill cry came up from the dark trees by the burning house, followed +by a roar of voices; and then, short and sharp, the bark of the +revolvers. For a moment the King lost all his self-possession. He wrung +his hands. He flung his arms wide. “O my people, my people!” he cried. + +“Yes,” said Pryce, grimly, “your people seem to have left you out of +this bean-feast. They’ve forgotten you, Smith.” + +The King turned on him savagely. “And they must be made to remember. +That is why I go. If need be, of ten men nine must die, that the tenth +may remember for ever.” + +“If that was Hanson shooting just now, you’ll find some of the nine +dead already. But you’re taking all the patrol with you--well, what’s +left for this place?” + +“This place is taboo. They dare not come.” + +“Yesterday you would have told me that they dare not burn down the club +and murder the white men. There’s liquor in the club, any amount of it, +and you may bet your life your precious people have looted it. They +respect the taboo when they’re sober, but they’ll respect nothing when +they’re mad with drink.” + +“What am I to do? As it is, I have only seventy-five men against many +hundreds.” + +“But they’re the only seventy-five who have rifles and can use them. +There’s your own prestige too, and all the hocus-pocus and mummery that +you know how to work on them.” + +“I need all. I must win to-night and at once. If I fail, the prestige +is gone and we are all dead men to-morrow. Besides, I shall be between +this house and the rebels. How many of them will get past me? Very few. +And you shoot well, Pryce.” + +“Oh, I’m not going to shoot any worse than I can help. But I can’t be +at fifty different points at once.” + +“Well, yes,” the King admitted, “there is a risk. And, whatever +happens, I cannot lose Lechworthy.” + +“I shouldn’t,” said Pryce. “Valuable man, Lechworthy.” + +“Look here, Pryce. I cannot stay another moment. I leave you six men +with rifles. You must do the best you can.” + +Pryce shrugged his shoulders. Six were not enough, he thought, not +nearly enough. But he could see that the King was right. Unless the +rebels were overawed and crushed at once, all would be lost. + +“Very well,” he said. “Pick out six that can shoot better than they can +run.” + +“You shall have six good men. You’ll see Lechworthy and put as good a +face on it as you can. Ah, they’re bringing my horse. Good-bye, Pryce.” + +“Good-bye and luck to you,” said Pryce, and turned back to the house. +As he dressed, he could hear voices in the big room at the front of +the house, and was not surprised; the noise had been enough to waken +anybody. The sound of firing had ceased now, but that vague tumultuous +roar of voices went on continuously, mingling with the sound of the +surf. + +He was rolling a cigarette as he entered the big room. It had struck +him that white drill might be inconveniently conspicuous and he wore +a suit of dark flannel. He carried no weapon, and his movements were +rather slower and more leisurely than usual. + +Tiva and Ioia cowered in a corner and wept. Hilda, in a dressing-gown +with her hair loose, sat on the table and nursed a morocco-covered +case. Pryce knew what was in it. They had practised shooting together. +Lechworthy, fully dressed, paced the room, his hands locked behind him. + +“Noisy crowd down there, ain’t they?” said Pryce, cheerily. + +“What on earth is happening, Pryce?” asked Lechworthy. “It’s--it’s +terrific.” + +“Some of the natives seem to have turned a bit unruly--started bonfires +and crackers, and little jokes of that kind. Disgraceful behaviour. +Smith has gone down with the patrol to check their enthusiasm. They’ll +all be quiet enough presently. They’re in a mortal funk of the King.” + +“I’ve been out on the verandah,” said Lechworthy, “and it seemed much +worse than you say. There was the sound of firing quite undoubtedly.” + +“Very likely,” said Pryce. “Some of these chaps are fond of loosing +off their guns when they get excited. I daresay it looked and sounded +far worse than it really is. By the way, Hilda, I thought your medical +attendant told you to go to bed not later than half-past ten.” + +“So I did,” said Hilda. “I--I was disturbed.” + +“Well, this little picnic won’t last long, and really it’s not worth +sitting up for. You ought to be in bed, you know.” + +“You don’t think there’s any chance the rioters will come this way?” +asked Lechworthy. + +“No,” said Pryce, boldly. “We’re taboo. The ordinary native would +sooner stand up and be shot at than set foot inside this garden. +Besides, Smith will hold them. And if by any chance a few should be +lucky enough to get through and mad enough to come this way, Smith has +not taken all the men; he’s left a small army to protect this place +with myself as their general, and I wonder what funny job I shall take +on next. Come, I don’t want to hurry anybody. But you can all sleep +peacefully in your beds, and the sooner you go to them the sooner I can +look after my chaps.” + +Lechworthy seemed quite reassured. He said good-night to Pryce and +Hilda, and went off, taking Hilda with him. + +Pryce turned on Tiva and Ioia. He laughed heartily at them. He made +comic imitations of their wailing and lament. They ceased to weep, +and became very angry. And suddenly Dr Pryce became very serious. He +spoke to them in the native tongue. He gave them various instructions. +There were some simple things which he wanted them to do, but they were +things that might make a good deal of difference. They were quick to +understand. They had great faith in Dr Pryce, even if he sometimes made +them very angry. As he sent them off, Hilda came back into the room +again. + +“What were you saying to them?” she asked. + +“Oh--telling them not to be silly.” + +She clutched his arm. “I want to come with you, dear. Let me. You know +that I can shoot.” + +He was very gentle with her. “Yes,” he said, as he caressed her hair, +“you’re a good shot, and this is splendid of you. Well, it will only +be waiting and watching for a long, long time yet. And if you were +there, I’m afraid I should be watching you most of the time, instead +of--other things. Most probably there’ll be nothing happening at all, +and you’d be up all night to no purpose, and I should feel bad about +it. But if the very worst did happen, and one of these idiots did get +past me and up to the house, it would be a great comfort to know that +there was a revolver there waiting for him, and waiting where he would +least expect it.” + +He managed to persuade her that it was in the house that she would be +of the greatest help. “I wish you could get to sleep,” he said. + +She shook her head. “I would if I could,” she said simply. “I like to +do everything you say.” + +“Well, lie down at any rate.” + +“I will. You know my window. You might come there sometimes, if you get +a chance, to tell me how things are going.” + +“Right. I expect there’ll be nothing to tell. Good-night, darling.” For +one moment he held her in his arms and kissed her, and then hurried +out, picking up his revolvers as he went. + +He found his six men waiting for him. One of them held a torch, and +Pryce made him put it out at once. Then he stationed his men at the +different points from which they were to keep a look-out, not far from +one another, along the hedge-crowned bank at the foot of the garden. +Of course an attack from some other direction was quite possible, but +the place was too large and the men at his disposal too few to keep a +watch all round. It would have been impossible, even if he had made +use of the boys who acted as house-servants, and he had decided not to +use them for this purpose at all. They had no training and too much +temperament; they would have been certain to see what was not there, +and to make a noise at the critical moment when silence was essential. +He kept them within the house, where under the direction of Tiva and +Ioia they filled buckets and soaked blankets in order that they might +deal at once with any attempt to fire the place. This being done, Tiva +and Ioia, as Pryce had directed, extinguished every light in the house. + +On the whole, Pryce was not ill-satisfied. The rebels, he could see +now, had lit torches; a hundred points of light circled among the dark +trees below him. If they came carrying torches, they would be a clear +mark. Also, if they came at all, they would be mad with liquor, and +the strategy of the drunken is not to be feared. They would take the +shortest and nearest road, and make a frontal attack at the point where +Pryce’s men kept watch. Here between the high bank and the plantations +beyond was a broad belt clear of cover, and there was plenty of +reflected light at present; it seemed unlikely that any party of the +rebels could get across the clearing without being seen. Pryce was +pleased, too, with the six men that Smith had left him. They were very +keen, and they were quick to understand what was expected of them. + +Going off by himself to see that all was right at the back of the +house, Pryce was a little surprised to encounter Lechworthy, wearing +his semi-clerical felt hat and calmly enjoying his briar pipe. + +“Hullo!” said Pryce. “Thought you were in bed.” + +“No,” said Lechworthy. “You don’t mind, do you? I said nothing just +now, because I didn’t want to make Hilda nervous, but I should like +to be in this. I can’t shoot, but I can keep a look-out for you. My +eyesight’s good and I can do what I’m told.” + +“Right,” said Pryce. “I’m glad to have you. I was just thinking that I +could do with another man. Come along with me and I’ll place you. By +the way, you might knock that pipe out. There’s a breath of wind got up +and those beggars have keen noses. You see, my idea is that if they do +come they shall think we are quite unprepared--all in bed and asleep, +trusting to Smith and the men with him. Gives us a better chance, eh?” + +Lechworthy’s pipe was already back in his pocket. “I see,” he said. +“Quite sound, I think. Is this my place?” + +“Yes. You watch the road. Neither to right nor to left--just the road. +If they come at all, I hope they’ll come by the road. It’ll mean +they’re being pretty careless. If you see anything on the road, don’t +shout. Move along the bank to your left till you come to one of the +men of the patrol, and tell him; he knows what to do. It’s rather dull +work, but don’t go to sleep; the thing one’s looking for generally +comes ten seconds after one has stopped looking.” + +“Quite so,” said Lechworthy. “I do not think I shall go to sleep.” + +The rebels constituted about three-quarters of the native male +population of Faloo. But, as the three brothers who led them were +well aware, they were very little to be depended on. And for this +reason the leaders had not dared to disclose the whole of their plan. +The Exiles’ Club was to be burned down, and those who escaped from +the flames were to be slaughtered. The leaders found it expedient to +declare that no attack on the King or the King’s property was intended, +and that although in this destruction of the white men they would be +disobeying the King’s orders, they would really be carrying out his +secret wishes, and would readily be forgiven. The feeling against the +men of the Exiles’ Club was immensely strong, and so far the leaders +felt confident. + +The second part of their plan they did not venture yet to disclose, for +only in the excitement induced by victory and by liquor looted from the +club could they hope to find followers to take part in its execution. +It was proposed then to attack the King’s house; the two white men +there were to be killed, and an exact vengeance was to be taken on the +white woman. The King’s safety was to depend on the terms that he would +make with the rebels. Now the taboo was a real thing to the natives, +and equally real was their loyalty to the King and their superstitious +fear of his powers; even their hatred of the men of the Exiles’ Club +would not have led them to enter upon its attack at all, if they had +known what sequel to it was intended. + +The first part of the plan was not well executed, and with prompt +action it is probable that many of the members of the club would have +escaped. Had any precautions against fire been taken, it is possible +that even the club-house, in spite of the inflammable material used +in its construction, might have been saved. The task of firing the +club-house had been entrusted to natives who were club-servants, and +in their eagerness they started the two fires at least an hour before +the time agreed upon, and before the cordon of armed natives had closed +round the club-grounds. Several of the members had not yet gone to +bed and were still in the card-room; Sir John Sweetling and Hanson +were among the number. But though the fires were discovered almost +immediately, there was no fire-extinguishing apparatus and no adequate +water-supply. The attempts made to beat out the fire failed completely +and only wasted time. With such rapidity did the flames spread that, +although the alarm was given at once, there were still men in the +bedrooms when the sheet of fire swept up the flimsy staircase. Most of +them made a jump from the windows and escaped. One, a little man who +had passed by the name of Pentwin, broke his leg in his fall and lay +fainting with agony in the long grass at the back of the house. + +Those who had escaped wasted much time in saving such furniture and +stores as they could, dragging it on to the lawn. And there they stood +around it stupidly, wondering what would happen next. Half of them did +not know how the fire had originated, and did not realise that the +native rising, so long talked of, had taken place at last. Mast knew +perhaps, but he was demented and useless. Sir John and Hanson knew, but +they were chiefly concerned in seeing that all had escaped safely from +the fire. + +It was bright as day on the lawn. There was a card-table, brought +out just as it was, with loose cards and used glasses on it. There +were heaps of Standard oil-tins. There were casks of spirits and rows +of bottles with gold-foil round their necks. There was a jumble of +bent-wood chairs and lounges, with legs shot cataleptically outwards +and cushions shed abroad. There were piles of table-linen and full +plate-baskets, mirrors in gold frames and a mezzotint of “The Soul’s +Awakening.” Lord Charles Baringstoke went from one man to another, +displaying a small square box of plaited grass with some exultation. +“See that?” he said. “That’s my lizard. I saved the little beggar. +He lost me half a quid only last night, but I saved him--damn him.” +Nobody took much notice of him. Most of them stood quite still, without +word or movement, staring at the fire as if under a spell. Some were +bare-footed and in pyjamas, just as they had come from their beds. + +They were equally unmoved when Mast, his eyes blazing with insanity, +climbed up on a chair, flung his arms wide and raved. “The judgment of +God is upon us,” he shouted, “the judgment of God! This is the day of +Tyre and Sidon. Not with hyssop but with fire must we be made clean of +our sins--this is the commandment revealed to me. Come then to the +baptism of fire!” He stepped down and would have thrown himself into +the burning building, but Sir John flung him roughly to the ground, and +he lay there weeping. Sir John had a club-list in his hand and Hanson +at his shoulder. Together they checked the list to see if any were +missing. A little distance away the parrot jumped and fluttered on its +perch, rattling its chain furiously, drawing innumerable corks. + +“Five not here,” said Hanson, “and all men who slept in the house. I’ll +run round to the back to see if I can find any of them.” + +There he found a little man with a broken leg, moaning with pain. A +canvas envelope had jerked out of the man’s pocket as he fell. It lay +on the grass with the contents half out of it. Amongst them was a +visiting-card printed in blue, and by the light of the fire Hanson read +it. The maimed man made a clutch for the other papers but it was Hanson +who got them. He glanced through them quickly, neglecting those that +were written in cypher, and then flung them into the fire. + +“You’ve not played a bad game,” he said, “Mr Parget of the C.I.D.” + +Parget lay still now with closed eyes, breathing hard. + +“You might have won,” said Hanson, “or again you might not, for I had +my doubts about you. Anyhow, our friends have pitched the board over, +and it can’t be played out. I bear no malice. We can’t take you with +us with that broken leg, and I don’t like to leave you to the natives. +Better put you to sleep, eh?” + +Parget nodded his head twice. There was blood on his lower lip, as he +bit hard on it. + +“Keep your eyes shut,” said Hanson. He took his revolver from his +pocket and shot the man through the head. The crash of a falling floor +drowned the sound of the shot. A volley of sparks flew skyward. + +Hanson rejoined Sir John. “Only one man there, and he’s dead--Pentwin. +We’d better get together, go round to the back and make a dash for it. +We might be able to get through.” + +A few minutes before, this might have been done, but it was too late +now. The fire had given the signal, and the whole place was surrounded. +Before Hanson and Sir John could get their men together, there was one +loud yell and then an answering roar of voices, as from all sides out +of the dark of the trees the natives poured in upon the white men. + +Some of the natives had antiquated firearms, but the greater number +were armed with knives and spears. They were without discipline; they +fired almost at random, and in consequence native killed native. Rotten +barrels burst at the first shot. But numbers prevailed; a few revolvers +could do little against this great tide of maddened humanity. + +Yet, with no chance for their lives, the exiles fought desperately. +Hanson, who had dropped on one knee behind a barrel, emptied his +revolver twice and effectively before he went down, stabbed from behind +in the neck. Sir John had already fallen, passing his weapon as he fell +to an unarmed man behind him. Lord Charles Baringstoke was the last to +go, and for a few minutes he seemed to bear a charmed life. He stood +erect and smiling, his eyes alert and watchful; he never wasted a shot, +and never missed a chance to reload. Possibly for the first time in his +life he had realised his situation; certainly there was a nobility in +his bearing that none had seen there before. His personal degradation +seemed to have slipped from him, leaving only an ancestral inheritance +of quiet and courage in the face of death. He was quick, quick as +light; three times he swung round rapidly and dropped the native whose +knife was almost on him. Then all around him came a gleam of white +teeth and lean brown arms dragging at him. He was surrounded and went +down. His smoke-grimed hands clutched hard at the ground. “How could I +help it?” he gurgled as he died, and spoke maybe his fitting epitaph. + +Now torches were lit from the burning building. The casks of liquor +were set flowing, and a dense crowd gathered round them, treading the +dead men under foot, stretching out cups made of the half-shell of a +cokernut. The noise was terrific, and the leaders were powerless to +restrain the men who had followed them. The three brothers stood apart +and conferred together, quarrelling violently. So far they had won, +but two of them thought that nothing further could be done with this +disorganised mob. The youngest was for marching immediately on the +King’s house. He had a small personal following on whom he thought he +could depend. His elder brothers shrugged their shoulders. Of what use +would those few be against the King and his well-armed men? + +They did not know that even as they spoke the King was not a hundred +yards away from them. The reckless victors had kept no watch of any +kind, and the King had been able to bring his men into the orange-grove +unperceived. + +Suddenly into the great mob that sang and struggled round the casks +on the lawn, there poured a volley from sixty-nine rifles. The noise +of shout and song stopped abruptly; there were moans from the wounded +on the ground and no other sound at all. Scarcely knowing what had +happened, astounded and helpless, the survivors looked to their +leaders. But before they could speak there came a rush of big-built men +from the trees. Two of the leaders were bound hand and foot; the third, +the youngest of the brothers, managed to escape. + +And now the King himself rode out on to the lawn. He worked his +horse in and out through the crowd, speaking to them as he went. If +they wished to live, he told them, they must remain where they were. +They shrank from him in shame, turning their eyes away, like unruly +schoolboys caught by their master. As he passed they squatted down on +the earth and watched to see what he would do. He rode to the upper +end of the lawn. The building had burned low now; there was a great +mass of red-hot embers over the surface of which a light flame skipped, +dropping down and bobbing up again. Here, in front of the fire, the two +leaders were brought to him. He dismounted and looked at them long, +till they grew afraid of his eyes. Then he gave the order and four men +of the patrol took one of the brothers, swung him rhythmically and +hurled him into the red-hot furnace. + +With the other brother the King dealt differently. As he looked at him, +he began to loosen the cord on the man’s wrists, speaking softly as he +did so. “See,” he said, “what has happened to you. You can no longer +move except as I will it. There, your hands are no longer bound; I have +taken off the cord; but one wrist clings to the other and you cannot +get them apart. Your feet also are no longer bound, but they are stuck +tight to the earth so that you cannot raise them. The fingers of your +hands are cramped and useless--quite useless. Here is a knife to kill +me; you cannot grasp it and it falls to the ground.” + +The crowd watched breathlessly. They saw the proffered knife, and their +leader’s failure to hold it. + +The King spoke to the man again. He told him that he was a very fine +man and a great house should be prepared for him. “Turn round and you +will see it.” + +The man turned, expressionless, his eyes wide open; he stared at the +pile of glowing timber. + +“A beautiful house with many lights,” said the King, softly, and the +man’s face smiled now in response. “They wait for you there. You are +tired, and they will spread soft mats for you that you may sleep. Go +quickly. You must.” + +The man ran forward, floundered for a few steps among the red-hot +embers, then threw up his arms and fell full length. The flakes of +burning wood closed over him like a wave of crimson sea; a gross and +yellow smoke rose where he had fallen. + +The King mounted his horse and called aloud. “You have seen--remember +it well, remember it well! To those who throw down their arms and go +back forthwith to their huts, I grant their lives.” + +Helped or driven by the men of the patrol, they threw down their knives +and spears and slunk away down to the huts that were massed in a +straggling street on the shore. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Many of the rebels had fallen to the revolvers of the white men at +bay, and many more to the rifles of the patrol. Two of their leaders +had perished before their eyes, and the death of one of them, slave +to the fixed eyes and whispered words of the King, had seemed to them +miraculous. How could they have been mad enough to contend against such +a power? Spiritless and unarmed, thrust on by the patrol with the butt +of the rifle, they staggered down the slopes to their huts on the beach. + +But the King knew well enough how dangerously incomplete his victory +was. The youngest of the three brothers had got clear away, and he had +taken men with him. They should have been followed of course, but the +King had been reluctant to spare a man until he was certain of the main +body of the rebels. The first sign of his mistake was a cloud of smoke +rolling up from his offices and stores on the beach below. The King +thought of his spirit-vats and galloped off. + +The fire was extinguished soon after the King reached the spot. There +were plenty of buckets, and the beaten rebels, no longer rebellious, +worked hard to prove their return to loyalty. They formed a line down +to the sea, and the buckets passed quickly from hand to hand. Very +little damage was done. But the incendiary had gained all he wanted--a +certain amount of time and a clear road up to the King’s house. + +But the watchers up at the King’s house also saw the cloud of smoke, +and it made them alert again, just when they had come to the conclusion +that all was well over and that the King had won. + +“Of course it may have been an accident,” said Pryce to Lechworthy. +“With all these torches dodging about, there’s nothing more likely. +And the fact that it was put out so quickly looks like that. Still, +it’s just possible that there’s somebody who’s not quite satisfied yet. +We’ll take no risks.” + +“Quite so,” said Lechworthy. “I’ll keep my eye on the road. The light’s +not so good as it was.” + +“We shall have the dawn in less than an hour now.” + +Pryce snatched a moment for a word with Hilda, and went on his round of +his men. On his way back some minutes later Lechworthy came towards him. + +“Come and look at this, doctor. Those lights far down the road--are +they coming or going?” + +Pryce looked in silence for a few seconds. “Coming,” he said. “Also the +chaps appear to be singing. You’ve done well, Lechworthy. Now you go on +to the house while we teach them to sing a different tune.” + +He went off along the bank. Lechworthy did not go to the house; he +stood back where he could see what happened without being in the way. + +Pryce returned with his six men and placed them. They could not be +seen, and their rifles commanded the road. They were steady and quiet. +Pryce showed them a point on the road. When the rebels reached that +point, Pryce would give the word to fire. They seemed to come very +slowly. + +But they neared the point at last. One man walked before the rest, +waving a torch and singing loudly. At parts of his song the rest broke +into laughter. They came noisily, in disorder, without precaution; +evidently they looked for an easy and certain triumph, in the absence +of the King and the patrol. + +“Sampson,” said Pryce to the man nearest him, “what’s that chap +singing?” Pryce could not make it out, though he knew something of the +native language. + +The patrol man whom he had addressed as Sampson prided himself on his +English. He translated a few phrases of the song. They concerned the +white woman at the King’s house. + +“Thanks,” said Pryce. “I’m just going to give the word. Mark the +singer, Sampson, and let’s see if you can shoot. Fire!” + +There were about a score of men on the road, and four fell at the first +volley; the singer was one of the four, and Sampson smiled. The rest +stood gaping, taken utterly by surprise. A second and a third volley +followed in quick succession. The few who were left fled down the road +in panic. + +Sampson straightened his back and patted his rifle. “Very good,” he +said complacently. “Dead shot. Very good.” + +“You’re all right,” said Pryce, “but the two at the end of the line +spoiled the bag.” Pryce sent them off now to the back of the house, +and as he turned saw Lechworthy. “So you meant to see the last of it +after all,” he said. + +“But it’s terrible,” said Lechworthy, “terrible. I’ve seen nothing like +this before, you know. One moment dancing and singing--the next moment +dead.” + +“Well,” said Pryce, “we didn’t invite them. And somebody had got to die +over this game.” + +“It’s self-defence, I know. Doctor, where should we have been without +you? We owe everything to you.” + +“Me?” said Pryce, cheerfully. “Why, I’ve had my hands in my pockets all +the time. I haven’t done a blessed thing. I--” + +He stopped short. Far away down the road came the sound of rifle-fire. + +“What’s that mean, doctor?” + +“In all probability it means that the few who escaped from us have had +the bad luck to run into Smith and his patrol on their way back to the +house. They’ll be here in five minutes. You might go and tell Hilda +that the show’s over.” + +“I will,” said Lechworthy. He had been much moved. He almost resented +the flippancy with which Pryce spoke, though he knew that this +flippancy was but part of a mask that hid something fine. + +As Lechworthy turned away, Pryce pulled his papers and pouch from his +pocket. He could smoke at last. He rolled a cigarette--a cigarette that +he was not destined to smoke. + +Lechworthy was about twenty yards away when a dark figure rose suddenly +from the bushes and made a dash at him with knife raised. Pryce’s +revolver was just in time; the man dropped almost at Lechworthy’s feet. + +“Run for the house,” shouted Pryce, and at the same moment he was +stabbed with two quick thrusts in the back and in the right arm. +His revolver dropped on the ground, and he flung himself on it. His +assailant rushed on towards Lechworthy, who still stood irresolute. + +Pryce raised himself on his knees, taking his revolver in his left +hand, less conscious of physical pain than of pleasure in his knowledge +that he had made left-hand shooting his speciality. Lechworthy was in +the line of fire and he had to be very careful; it was his second shot +that brought the native down. + +He still waited on his knees, his revolver in his hand. He did not know +in the least who these two men were who had appeared just at the very +moment when all danger of attack seemed over. It did not appear that +there were more than two. He could hear his own six men running towards +him--they had heard the sound of firing--and he could hear distinctly +on the road the sound of a horse’s hoofs and the tramp of men. It +was all right then, and the King had returned. The warm blood poured +steadily down his right arm. Suddenly he was conscious that Lechworthy +was standing by him. “Are you hurt, Pryce?” Lechworthy was saying +anxiously. “Are you hurt?” + +“Bit of a scratch,” said Pryce. “Better say nothing to her. Probably +looks worse--” + +And then he collapsed, just as the King and the patrol entered the +garden. + +It has already been said that the youngest of the three brothers who +led the rebellion had by firing the stores and offices on the beach +gained time and a clear road to the King’s house. He had drawn the King +and the patrol down from the point which they should have occupied. +But he started on his way up to the King’s house with his small +following absolutely out of hand. They had triumphed over the white +man, the King himself had failed to lay hands on them, they had burnt +the King’s stores; and now they would burn the King’s house, and it +would all be perfectly easy. They had drunk freely on the lawn of the +Exiles’ Club and had found more liquor on the beach. Their leader would +have had them go up in silence, without torches, working their way +through the thick of the plantation. But they found the road easier, +and in their intoxication insisted on treating this last advance as a +triumphant procession. Noisy and disorderly, they never noticed that +their nominal leader had left them, taking one man with him, and turned +into the plantation by the roadside. + +These two men advanced parallel with the noisy crowd, but at a long +distance from them. And when the rifle fire was drawn, and the +attention of the defenders concentrated on the road, they took that +chance to rush across the clearing, up the bank, and through the scant +hedge into the garden. They knew the game was up. Their one aim was to +sell their lives as dearly as might be. + +When Pryce came to himself, he lay on his bed. His coat, waistcoat and +shirt had been cut off. The early sunlight filtered through the green +plaited blinds. There were two dark shadows by the bed, and the shadows +slowly became the King and Lechworthy. Pryce, a little surprised to +find himself alive, investigated with a slow and feeble movement of +his left hand the injuries he had received. When he spoke, his voice +sounded so funny, so unlike his voice, that he smiled. + +“Who fixed the tourniquet?” he asked. + +“That was Hilda,” and then Lechworthy’s voice seemed to become a dull +rumble. Pryce caught stray words: “Huddersfield ... ambulance lectures +... Providence.” + +And then the King was holding a glass to his lips. Pryce smelled the +brandy, and put it aside. He asked for water, and drank eagerly. + +“Hilda?” he said. + +“She came out when she heard the firing so near to the house.” + +“All wrong,” said Pryce, feebly. “Plucky though.” He paused awhile with +his eyes closed. Then he opened them, and his voice seemed stronger. +“There were only two, you know--two beggars who got through?” + +He was assured that there had been no others. All was well. + +“Better get some sleep soon,” said Pryce. “The jab in the back is +nothing much--must have glanced off a rib. Breathing’s pretty easy. Bad +shot of his--but he was hurried.” + +He began to get drowsy, but roused himself. + +“Might bring those chests of mine in here--dressings, clips, and so on. +I’ll tell you what to do. Then we can rest.” + +“Hilda’s getting them,” said Lechworthy. + +There were steps outside, and Lechworthy went out of the room. Pryce +could hear low voices outside the door. Then Lechworthy and Hilda came +in together, Lechworthy carrying a tray of things. + +Hilda looked towards the bed. “We’ve changed places,” she said in a low +voice. “You’ll have to be my patient now.” Then she went over to the +window. “We shall want more light, I think.” + +Pryce made a quick sign with his left hand. The King nodded and turned +to Lechworthy. “Come with me,” he said. “We can do nothing more here +for the present.” + +A little surprised, Lechworthy looked at Hilda. “Yes, that’s right,” +she said. “If I should want you, I’ll send; but I’ve got Tiva and Ioia, +you know, and servants besides.” + +“I’m not going to bed,” said Lechworthy when they were outside the +room. “Who knows? I might be wanted. And I shall sleep in a chair all +right--or anywhere. I’m done.” + +“A chair will be good enough for me,” said the King. + +They sat down in the verandah in the warm sun. Lechworthy, perhaps for +the first time in his life, filled and lit a pipe in the morning. + +“You see it all, I suppose,” said the King. + +“See what?” + +“Those two--in there.” + +“Hilda and Pryce? You don’t mean--?” + +“I do. I thought you knew.” + +“I was a little puzzled. She was very quiet and very--useful. But she +looked--almost as if she were going mad. Yes, I suppose it is so.” + +“If he recovers, they marry,” said the King. “At least you will find it +very difficult to prevent it; and he will not go to England, you know. +But he has lost very much blood. Perhaps--” + +“Don’t say that,” said Lechworthy, sharply. + +For a moment or two he smoked and meditated. Then he went on: “It will +have to be as Hilda says. I daren’t interfere in such a case--wouldn’t +anyhow. If any man has the right to her, then he has. Not a great +marriage, of course--there will be people in London who will think +she has thrown herself away. They’ll condole, I daresay, and make +themselves unpleasant in other ways too. But there are too many people +in England who sacrifice too much to get the good opinion of a few +others who don’t really care for them. Are you awake?” + +The King opened his eyes. “Awake? Oh, yes. What was the name of that +thing Miss Auriol put on his arm?” + +“Tourniquet.” + +“Ah, tourniquet--new word to me. I must remember.” And in two seconds +he was fast asleep. + +Lechworthy watched him with a smile, and then closed his own eyes. His +pipe slipped out of his mouth and fell on the floor beside him. He also +slept. + +When he woke again, the King had gone and Hilda stood on the verandah +beside him. + +“Dear me!” said Lechworthy. “I’ve slept a long time, I think. How is +he?” + +“I thought he would have fainted again when we were dressing the +wounds. But afterwards he seemed more comfortable, and now he’s fallen +asleep. He made me promise to go and rest as soon as he was asleep--one +of the boys is waiting in the room with him, to fetch me if I’m wanted. +He’s--he’s so sensible, you know. He tells us exactly what to do, +just as if it was some other case he was attending. And he will thank +for everything--I wish he wouldn’t. Only, he used to be so active--so +quick, and now he can’t move much.” There came a catch in Hilda’s +voice. “And he doesn’t seem to know, not in the least, that’s he’s done +anything much for us, or even to think about it. He’s--” + +She dropped into a chair and covered her face with her hands. For a few +moments she could not speak for sobbing. Lechworthy stood over her, +trying to soothe her. + +“Don’t you know?” she wailed. “Don’t you know?” + +“Yes, dear,” said Lechworthy, “I know. And--that’ll be all right. With +God’s help, we’ll pull him through, for he’s too good to lose, and--and +that’ll be all right, dear. You’ve been doing too much, and you mustn’t +break down now. Come and get some rest. You promised him, you know.” + +Hilda went to her room. + + * * * * * + +Some days later the King and Lechworthy stood on the lawn of the +Exiles’ Club. Much money and much trouble had been expended to make +that lawn. And now it was scorched with fire and soaked with blood, +spoiled and trampled. A few oranges on a tree that had stood nearest to +the fire were withered and discoloured amid brown shrivelled leaves. +A long line of natives, laden with flat baskets, passed and repassed, +carrying the _debris_ of the burned house down to the shore. It was +forced labour, the punishment given them by the King, and six men of +the patrol, armed with rifles, watched them at their work. Other gangs +had been sent out to work at road-making. They hated the work, but they +did it submissively, lest worse should befall them. There was not a +corner of the island now in which Hilda or Pryce, or Lechworthy might +not have walked with perfect security, unarmed, by day or night. But +Hilda would not let Pryce do much walking yet--from his room to the +verandah, perhaps, but that was all. + +The King pointed to a safe, looking incongruously official among +charred timbers, with sunlight streaming on it and birds singing around +it. + +“That must be got out,” said the King. “If it is claimed by those who +have the right, I hand it over.” + +“I think nothing will be claimed,” said Lechworthy. + +“Sir John Sweetling chose well,” said the King, with a sweep of his +arm. “Look--the finest site on the island. Here your native church +might have stood.” + +“It may stand there yet. I know, sir, how much you feel my abandonment +of your scheme. It is no longer possible, but the results which you +wished to obtain by it are still possible. Listen--in one night many +British subjects were murdered here. Remember that, whenever you think +that I could still do as I had intended.” + +“They were criminals.” + +“Great Britain would not recognise the right of your people to punish +them. And one of the men was a police-officer, sent here, doing his +duty.” + +“But my people--think how they were provoked into rebellion. Have they +not been punished? They have given more than a life for a life. And +those that survive are still being punished. I have done all that I +could.” + +“That is true. The blame is not with the responsible government of the +island. Be thankful for that; otherwise you would have had a punitive +expedition here. As it is, the whole story must be told to Scotland +Yard and to those of my friends to whom I have already written. I +hope that I shall convince and satisfy them, and my story will be +supported by the sworn statement which I shall get from Pryce. I think +you have nothing to fear. But you must no longer expect protection of +the kind you wanted. At the best, that would perhaps only have been +possible if there had been raised a strong public sentiment, in France +as well as in Great Britain, on the depopulation question, and if the +two powers had been willing to co-operate. If this story were told, +public sentiment would be dead against you. You may understand, and +I may understand, how all this happened, but the public would never +understand. Your people would seem to them cruel and bloodthirsty; your +government of them would seem unstable and impotent; they would not +wish to perpetuate either. There would be no public sympathy. If I +attempted to carry out your scheme, the only result would be that a few +travellers would turn out of their course from curiosity to visit your +island, and that precautions would be taken, of a kind which you would +resent, to see that they came to no harm.” + +“My people are not cruel,” said the King. “They are gentle, a little +lazy, but good-humoured, if the white man will leave them alone. To-day +I have more power than ever before; I shall not be again disobeyed.” + +“I believe that to be true,” said Lechworthy. “But we are a cautious +people, and this outbreak is dead against you. It spoils the record. +Facts matter less than the way people will look at them. Once one has +to explain away, one exposes a weakness and provokes a mistrust; the +chance was never too strong, and with that weakness the chance vanishes +altogether.” + +The King wrinkled his brows. “I do not much understand these political +affairs, but I trust you. If you say that it is so, it is so.” + +“You had much better trust me,” said Lechworthy, without temper and +quite placidly. “You see, Scotland Yard has lost a man, and it knows +the route to Faloo, and it does not let things slide. It is only my +story of what happened which can save serious trouble for this island.” + +“Still,” said the King, “when we discussed this last night, I did think +what might happen if you said nothing of this--this mistake of my +people.” + +“That is already answered. If I do not tell, it is likely to be worse +for you. Not in any spot in the globe can the treacherous slaughter of +many British subjects be over-looked.” + +“And yet you tell me that, though the scheme goes, its results are +still possible.” + +“I do. And it depends principally on you.” + +“On me? There is nothing I would not do.” + +“You have made money, and might make much more. You have adopted the +English language--our names and dress. You have studied much. You could +let that go?” + +The King snapped his fingers. “Like that,” he said. + +“Very well. Go back to your people. Speak their language and wear +native dress. Be a King and not a trader. Break up the stills and +empty the vats into the sea. Sell your trading-vessels, the one link +that binds Faloo to the world outside. You tell me that the island +produces all that a native needs; limit yourself to that. It may be +that trade of its own accord will come to you; some soap manufacturer +may try to buy your plantation or even the entire island. Refuse him. +Do not be tempted. If chance visitors should come here, treat them +with humanity but without hospitality; make it unlikely that they will +return. The story of the Exiles’ Club will be known, and the island +will no longer be a refuge for the uncaught criminal. Go back to the +simplicity of your fathers and trust to the obscurity of your kingdom, +and here the race may recover.” + +“No communication with what you call the world outside. No mail. No +trade. You would lose by that, Lechworthy.” + +“Yes, yes, never mind about that. Did you not tell me that you had used +a bad weapon once, and that it had hurt your hand, but that you would +burn it with a little powder and it would be clean? It has been burned +with powder. It is clean now. The chance for the native Faloo begins +to-day.” + +They talked long and earnestly on their way back to the house together. + +Late that evening Lechworthy found himself alone with his niece. + +“So it comes to an end,” he said. “To-morrow the _Snowflake_. You’re +sure he’s strong enough for it?” + +Hilda laughed. “If I didn’t feel sure, I wouldn’t let him go.” + +“And in a month--five weeks--some such time--you will be married. And +after that when shall we meet again?” + +“You must come out here. We’ve been talking about that.” + +“Well, it’s quite likely. And perhaps, not now but, in a few years, he +will come back to England.” + +“He says he cannot. I--I don’t think I should like to try to persuade +him.” + +“Certainly not. Possibly the suggestion will come from him. His views +may be altered by--er--circumstances.” + +“What circumstances?” + +But her uncle changed the subject. + + +COLSTONS LIMITED, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH + + + + +Transcriber's Note + + +The following apparent errors have been corrected: + +p. 43 "other things" changed to "other things." + +p. 49 "said the King" changed to "said the King." + +p. 71 "not knew" changed to "not know" + +p. 102 "all nigh" changed to "all night" + +p. 137 "presently." changed to "presently.”" + +p. 261 "Mr friend" changed to "My friend" + + + +The following possible error has been left as printed: + +p. 177 "Goats?" + + +The following are used inconsistently in the printed text: + +necktie and neck-tie + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Exiles of Faloo, by Barry Pain + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44718 *** |