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diff --git a/old/vcty10h.htm b/old/vcty10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..04fa9e9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/vcty10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11887 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Victory</title> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Victory, by Joseph Conrad</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Victory, by Joseph Conrad +(#27 in our series by Joseph Conrad) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Victory + +Author: Joseph Conrad + +Release Date: August, 2004 [EBook #6378] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on December 3, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed by Tracy Camp.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h1>VICTORY: AN ISLAND TALE</h1> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h2>NOTE TO THE FIRST EDITION</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The last word of this novel was written on 29 May 1914. And +that last word was the single word of the title.</p> +<p>Those were the times of peace. Now that the moment of publication +approaches I have been considering the discretion of altering the title-page. +The word “Victory” the shining and tragic goal of noble +effort, appeared too great, too august, to stand at the head of a mere +novel. There was also the possibility of falling under the suspicion +of commercial astuteness deceiving the public into the belief that the +book had something to do with war.</p> +<p>Of that, however, I was not afraid very much. What influenced +my decision most were the obscure promptings of that pagan residuum +of awe and wonder which lurks still at the bottom of our old humanity. +“Victory” was the last word I had written in peace-time. +It was the last literary thought which had occurred to me before the +doors of the Temple of Janus flying open with a crash shook the minds, +the hearts, the consciences of men all over the world. Such coincidence +could not be treated lightly. And I made up my mind to let the +word stand, in the same hopeful spirit in which some simple citizen +of Old Rome would have “accepted the Omen.”</p> +<p>The second point on which I wish to offer a remark is the existence +(in the novel) of a person named Schomberg.</p> +<p>That I believe him to be true goes without saying. I am not +likely to offer pinchbeck wares to my public consciously. Schomberg +is an old member of my company. A very subordinate personage in +Lord Jim as far back as the year 1899, he became notably active in a +certain short story of mine published in 1902. Here he appears +in a still larger part, true to life (I hope), but also true to himself. +Only, in this instance, his deeper passions come into play, and thus +his grotesque psychology is completed at last.</p> +<p>I don’t pretend to say that this is the entire Teutonic psychology; +but it is indubitably the psychology of a Teuton. My object in +mentioning him here is to bring out the fact that, far from being the +incarnation of recent animosities, he is the creature of my old deep-seated, +and, as it were, impartial conviction.</p> +<p>J. C.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>AUTHOR’S NOTE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>On approaching the task of writing this Note for Victory, the first +thing I am conscious of is the actual nearness of the book, its nearness +to me personally, to the vanished mood in which it was written, and +to the mixed feelings aroused by the critical notices the book obtained +when first published almost exactly a year after the beginning of the +war. The writing of it was finished in 1914 long before the murder +of an Austrian Archduke sounded the first note of warning for a world +already full of doubts and fears.</p> +<p>The contemporaneous very short Author’s Note which is preserved +in this edition bears sufficient witness to the feelings with which +I consented to the publication of the book. The fact of the book +having been published in the United States early in the year made it +difficult to delay its appearance in England any longer. It came +out in the thirteenth month of the war, and my conscience was troubled +by the awful incongruity of throwing this bit of imagined drama into +the welter of reality, tragic enough in all conscience, but even more +cruel than tragic and more inspiring than cruel. It seemed awfully +presumptuous to think there would be eyes to spare for those pages in +a community which in the crash of the big guns and in the din of brave +words expressing the truth of an indomitable faith could not but feel +the edge of a sharp knife at its throat.</p> +<p>The unchanging Man of history is wonderfully adaptable both by his +power of endurance and in his capacity for detachment. The fact +seems to be that the play of his destiny is too great for his fears +and too mysterious for his understanding. Were the trump of the +Last Judgement to sound suddenly on a working day the musician at his +piano would go on with his performance of Beethoven’s sonata and +the cobbler at his stall stick to his last in undisturbed confidence +in the virtues of the leather. And with perfect propriety. +For what are we to let ourselves be disturbed by an angel’s vengeful +music too mighty our ears and too awful for our terrors? Thus +it happens to us to be struck suddenly by the lightning of wrath. +The reader will go on reading if the book pleases him and the critic +will go on criticizing with that faculty of detachment born perhaps +from a sense of infinite littleness and which is yet the only faculty +that seems to assimilate man to the immortal gods.</p> +<p>It is only when the catastrophe matches the natural obscurity of +our fate that even the best representative of the race is liable to +lose his detachment. It is very obvious that on the arrival of +the gentlemanly Mr. Jones, the single-minded Ricardo, and the faithful +Pedro, Heyst, the man of universal detachment, loses his mental self-possession, +that fine attitude before the universally irremediable which wears the +name of stoicism. It is all a matter of proportion. There +should have been a remedy for that sort of thing. And yet there +is no remedy. Behind this minute instance of life’s hazards +Heyst sees the power of blind destiny. Besides, Heyst in his fine +detachment had lost the habit asserting himself. I don’t +mean the courage of self-assertion, either moral or physical, but the +mere way of it, the trick of the thing, the readiness of mind and the +turn of the hand that come without reflection and lead the man to excellence +in life, in art, in crime, in virtue, and, for the matter of that, even +in love. Thinking is the great enemy of perfection. The +habit of profound reflection, I am compelled to say, is the most pernicious +of all the habits formed by the civilized man.</p> +<p>But I wouldn’t be suspected even remotely of making fun of +Axel Heyst. I have always liked him. The flesh-and-blood +individual who stands behind the infinitely more familiar figure of +the book I remember as a mysterious Swede right enough. Whether +he was a baron, too, I am not so certain. He himself never laid +claim to that distinction. His detachment was too great to make +any claims, big or small, on one’s credulity. I will not +say where I met him because I fear to give my readers a wrong impression, +since a marked incongruity between a man and his surroundings is often +a very misleading circumstance. We became very friendly for a +time, and I would not like to expose him to unpleasant suspicions though, +personally, I am sure he would have been indifferent to suspicions as +he was indifferent to all the other disadvantages of life. He +was not the whole Heyst of course; he is only the physical and moral +foundation of my Heyst laid on the ground of a short acquaintance. +That it was short was certainly not my fault for he had charmed me by +the mere amenity of his detachment which, in this case, I cannot help +thinking he had carried to excess. He went away from his rooms +without leaving a trace. I wondered where he had gone to - but +now I know. He vanished from my ken only to drift into this adventure +that, unavoidable, waited for him in a world which he persisted in looking +upon as a malevolent shadow spinning in the sunlight. Often in +the course of years an expressed sentiment, the particular sense of +a phrase heard casually, would recall him to my mind so that I have +fastened on to him many words heard on other men’s lips and belonging +to other men’s less perfect, less pathetic moods.</p> +<p>The same observation will apply mutatis mutandis to Mr. Jones, who +is built on a much slenderer connection. Mr. Jones (or whatever +his name was) did not drift away from me. He turned his back on +me and walked out of the room. It was in a little hotel in the +island of St. Thomas in the West Indies (in the year ’75) where +we found him one hot afternoon extended on three chairs, all alone in +the loud buzzing of flies to which his immobility and his cadaverous +aspect gave a most gruesome significance. Our invasion must have +displeased him because he got off the chairs brusquely and walked out, +leaving with me an indelibly weird impression of his thin shanks. +One of the men with me said that the fellow was the most desperate gambler +he had ever come across. I said: “A professional sharper?” +and got for an answer: “He’s a terror; but I must say that +up to a certain point he will play fair. . . ” I wonder +what the point was. I never saw him again because I believe he +went straight on board a mail-boat which left within the hour for other +ports of call in the direction of Aspinall. Mr. Jones’s +characteristic insolence belongs to another man of a quite different +type. I will say nothing as to the origins of his mentality because +I don’t intend to make any damaging admissions.</p> +<p>It so happened that the very same year Ricardo - the physical Ricardo +- was a fellow passenger of mine on board an extremely small and extremely +dirty little schooner, during a four days’ passage between two +places in the Gulf of Mexico whose names don’t matter. For +the most part he lay on deck aft as it were at my feet, and raising +himself from time to time on his elbow would talk about himself and +go on talking, not exactly to me or even at me (he would not even look +up but kept his eyes fixed on the deck) but more as if communing in +a low voice with his familiar devil. Now and then he would give +me a glance and make the hairs of his stiff little moustache stir quaintly. +His eyes were green and every cat I see to this day reminds me of the +exact contour of his face. What he was travelling for or what +was his business in life he never confided to me. Truth to say, +the only passenger on board that schooner who could have talked openly +about his activities and purposes was a very snuffy and conversationally +delightful friar, the superior of a convent, attended by a very young +lay brother, of a particularly ferocious countenance. We had with +us also, lying prostrate in the dark and unspeakable cuddy of that schooner, +an old Spanish gentleman, owner of much luggage and, as Ricardo assured +me, very ill indeed. Ricardo seemed to be either a servant or +the confidant of that aged and distinguished-looking invalid, who early +on the passage held a long murmured conversation with the friar, and +after that did nothing but groan feebly, smoke cigarettes, and now and +then call for Martin in a voice full of pain. Then he who had +become Ricardo in the book would go below into that beastly and noisome +hole, remain there mysteriously, and coming up on deck again with a +face on which nothing could be read, would as likely as not resume for +my edification the exposition of his moral attitude towards life illustrated +by striking particular instances of the most atrocious complexion. +Did he mean to frighten me? Or seduce me? Or astonish me? +Or arouse my admiration? All he did was to arouse my amused incredulity. +As scoundrels go he was far from being a bore. For the rest my +innocence was so great then that I could not take his philosophy seriously. +All the time he kept one ear turned to the cuddy in the manner of a +devoted servant, but I had the idea that in some way or other he had +imposed the connection on the invalid for some end of his own. +The reader, therefore, won’t be surprised to hear that one morning +I was told without any particular emotion by the padrone of the schooner +that the “rich man” down there was dead: He had died in +the night. I don’t remember ever being so moved by the desolate +end of a complete stranger. I looked down the skylight, and there +was the devoted Martin busy cording cowhide trunks belonging to the +deceased whose white beard and hooked nose were the only parts I could +make out in the dark depths of a horrible stuffy bunk.</p> +<p>As it fell calm in the course of the afternoon and continued calm +during all that night and the terrible, flaming day, the late “rich +man” had to be thrown overboard at sunset, though as a matter +of fact we were in sight of the low pestilential mangrove-lined coast +of our destination. The excellent Father Superior mentioned to +me with an air of immense commiseration: “The poor man has left +a young daughter.” Who was to look after her I don’t +know, but I saw the devoted Martin taking the trunks ashore with great +care just before I landed myself. I would perhaps have tracked +the ways of that man of immense sincerity for a little while, but I +had some of my own very pressing business to attend to, which in the +end got mixed up with an earthquake and so I had no time to give to +Ricardo. The reader need not be told that I have not forgotten +him, though.</p> +<p>My contact with the faithful Pedro was much shorter and my observation +of him was less complete but incomparably more anxious. It ended +in a sudden inspiration to get out of his way. It was in a hovel +of sticks and mats by the side of a path. As I went in there only +to ask for a bottle of lemonade I have not to this day the slightest +idea what in my appearance or actions could have roused his terrible +ire. It became manifest to me less than two minutes after I had +set eyes on him for the first time, and though immensely surprised of +course I didn’t stop to think it out I took the nearest short +cut - through the wall. This bestial apparition and a certain +enormous buck nigger encountered in Haiti only a couple of months afterwards, +have fixed my conception of blind, furious, unreasoning rage, as manifested +in the human animal, to the end of my days. Of the nigger I used +to dream for years afterwards. Of Pedro never. The impression +was less vivid. I got away from him too quickly.</p> +<p>It seems to me but natural that those three buried in a corner of +my memory should suddenly get out into the light of the world - so natural +that I offer no excuse for their existence, They were there, they had +to come out; and this is a sufficient excuse for a writer of tales who +had taken to his trade without preparation, or premeditation, and without +any moral intention but that which pervades the whole scheme of this +world of senses.</p> +<p>Since this Note is mostly concerned with personal contacts and the +origins of the persons in the tale, I am bound also to speak of Lena, +because if I were to leave her out it would look like a slight; and +nothing would be further from my thoughts than putting a slight on Lena. +If of all the personages involved in the “mystery of Samburan” +I have lived longest with Heyst (or with him I call Heyst) it was at +her, whom I call Lena, that I have looked the longest and with a most +sustained attention. This attention originated in idleness for +which I have a natural talent. One evening I wandered into a cafe, +in a town not of the tropics but of the South of France. It was +filled with tobacco smoke, the hum of voices, the rattling of dominoes, +and the sounds of strident music. The orchestra was rather smaller +than the one that performed at Schomberg’s hotel, had the air +more of a family party than of an enlisted band, and, I must confess, +seemed rather more respectable than the Zangiacomo musical enterprise. +It was less pretentious also, more homely and familiar, so to speak, +insomuch that in the intervals when all the performers left the platform +one of them went amongst the marble tables collecting offerings of sous +and francs in a battered tin receptacle recalling the shape of a sauceboat. +It was a girl. Her detachment from her task seems to me now to +have equalled or even surpassed Heyst’s aloofness from all the +mental degradations to which a man’s intelligence is exposed in +its way through life. Silent and wide-eyed she went from table +to table with the air of a sleep-walker and with no other sound but +the slight rattle of the coins to attract attention. It was long +after the sea-chapter of my life had been closed but it is difficult +to discard completely the characteristics of half a lifetime, and it +was in something of the Jack-ashore spirit that I dropped a five-franc +piece into the sauceboat; whereupon the sleep-walker turned her head +to gaze at me and said “Merci, Monsieur” in a tone in which +there was no gratitude but only surprise. I must have been idle +indeed to take the trouble to remark on such slight evidence that the +voice was very charming and when the performers resumed their seats +I shifted my position slightly in order not to have that particular +performer hidden from me by the little man with the beard who conducted, +and who might for all I know have been her father, but whose real mission +in life was to be a model for the Zangiacomo of Victory. Having +got a clear line of sight I naturally (being idle) continued to look +at the girl through all the second part of the programme. The +shape of her dark head inclined over the violin was fascinating, and, +while resting between the pieces of that interminable programme she +was, in her white dress and with her brown hands reposing in her lap, +the very image of dreamy innocence. The mature, bad-tempered woman +at the piano might have been her mother, though there was not the slightest +resemblance between them. All I am certain of in their personal +relation to each other is that cruel pinch on the upper part of the +arm. That I am sure I have seen! There could be no mistake. +I was in too idle a mood to imagine such a gratuitous barbarity. +It may have been playfulness, yet the girl jumped up as if she had been +stung by a wasp. It may have been playfulness. Yet I saw +plainly poor “dreamy innocence” rub gently the affected +place as she filed off with the other performers down the middle aisle +between the marble tables in the uproar of voices, the rattling of dominoes +through a blue atmosphere of tobacco smoke. I believe that those +people left the town next day.</p> +<p>Or perhaps they had only migrated to the other big cafe, on the other +side of the Place de la Comedie. It is very possible. I +did not go across to find out. It was my perfect idleness that +had invested the girl with a peculiar charm, and I did not want to destroy +it by any superfluous exertion. The receptivity of my indolence +made the impression so permanent that when the moment came for her meeting +with Heyst I felt that she would be heroically equal to every demand +of the risky and uncertain future. I was so convinced of it that +I let her go with Heyst, I won’t say without a pang but certainly +without misgivings. And in view of her triumphant end what more +could I have done for her rehabilitation and her happiness?</p> +<p>1920.<br />J. C.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h2>PART ONE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER ONE</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>There is, as every schoolboy knows in this scientific age, a very +close chemical relation between coal and diamonds. It is the reason, +I believe, why some people allude to coal as “black diamonds.” +Both these commodities represent wealth; but coal is a much less portable +form of property. There is, from that point of view, a deplorable +lack of concentration in coal. Now, if a coal-mine could be put +into one’s waistcoat pocket - but it can’t! At the +same time, there is a fascination in coal, the supreme commodity of +the age in which we are camped like bewildered travellers in a garish, +unrestful hotel. And I suppose those two considerations, the practical +and the mystical, prevented Heyst - Axel Heyst - from going away.</p> +<p>The Tropical Belt Coal Company went into liquidation. The world +of finance is a mysterious world in which, incredible as the fact may +appear, evaporation precedes liquidation. First the capital evaporates, +and then the company goes into liquidation. These are very unnatural +physics, but they account for the persistent inertia of Heyst, at which +we “out there” used to laugh among ourselves - but not inimically. +An inert body can do no harm to anyone, provokes no hostility, is scarcely +worth derision. It may, indeed, be in the way sometimes; but this +could not be said of Axel Heyst. He was out of everybody’s +way, as if he were perched on the highest peak of the Himalayas, and +in a sense as conspicuous. Everyone in that part of the world +knew of him, dwelling on his little island. An island is but the +top of a mountain. Axel Heyst, perched on it immovably, was surrounded, +instead of the imponderable stormy and transparent ocean of air merging +into infinity, by a tepid, shallow sea; a passionless offshoot of the +great waters which embrace the continents of this globe. His most +frequent visitors were shadows, the shadows of clouds, relieving the +monotony of the inanimate, brooding sunshine of the tropics. His +nearest neighbour - I am speaking now of things showing some sort of +animation - was an indolent volcano which smoked faintly all day with +its head just above the northern horizon, and at night levelled at him, +from amongst the clear stars, a dull red glow, expanding and collapsing +spasmodically like the end of a gigantic cigar puffed at intermittently +in the dark. Axel Heyst was also a smoker; and when he lounged +out on his veranda with his cheroot, the last thing before going to +bed, he made in the night the same sort of glow and of the same size +as that other one so many miles away.</p> +<p>In a sense, the volcano was company to him in the shades of the night +- which were often too thick, one would think, to let a breath of air +through. There was seldom enough wind to blow a feather along. +On most evenings of the year Heyst could have sat outside with a naked +candle to read one of the books left him by his late father. It +was not a mean store. But he never did that. Afraid of mosquitoes, +very likely. Neither was he ever tempted by the silence to address +any casual remarks to the companion glow of the volcano. He was +not mad. Queer chap - yes, that may have been said, and in fact +was said; but there is a tremendous difference between the two, you +will allow.</p> +<p>On the nights of full moon the silence around Samburan - the “Round +Island” of the charts - was dazzling; and in the flood of cold +light Heyst could see his immediate surroundings, which had the aspect +of an abandoned settlement invaded by the jungle: vague roofs above +low vegetation, broken shadows of bamboo fences in the sheen of long +grass, something like an overgrown bit of road slanting among ragged +thickets towards the shore only a couple of hundred yards away, with +a black jetty and a mound of some sort, quite inky on its unlighted +side. But the most conspicuous object was a gigantic blackboard +raised on two posts and presenting to Heyst, when the moon got over +that side, the white letters “T. B. C. Co.” in a row at +least two feet high. These were the initials of the Tropical Belt +Coal Company, his employers - his late employers, to be precise.</p> +<p>According to the unnatural mysteries of the financial world, the +T. B. C. Company’s capital having evaporated in the course of +two years, the company went into liquidation - forced, I believe, not +voluntary. There was nothing forcible in the process, however. +It was slow; and while the liquidation - in London and Amsterdam - pursued +its languid course, Axel Heyst, styled in the prospectus “manager +in the tropics,” remained at his post on Samburan, the No. 1 coaling-station +of the company.</p> +<p>And it was not merely a coaling-station. There was a coal-mine +there, with an outcrop in the hillside less than five hundred yards +from the rickety wharf and the imposing blackboard. The company’s +object had been to get hold of all the outcrops on tropical islands +and exploit them locally. And, Lord knows, there were any amount +of outcrops. It was Heyst who had located most of them in this +part of the tropical belt during his rather aimless wanderings, and +being a ready letter-writer had written pages and pages about them to +his friends in Europe. At least, so it was said.</p> +<p>We doubted whether he had any visions of wealth - for himself, at +any rate. What he seemed mostly concerned for was the “stride +forward,” as he expressed it, in the general organization of the +universe, apparently. He was heard by more than a hundred persons +in the islands talking of a “great stride forward for these regions.” +The convinced wave of the hand which accompanied the phrase suggested +tropical distances being impelled onward. In connection with the +finished courtesy of his manner, it was persuasive, or at any rate silencing +- for a time, at least. Nobody cared to argue with him when he +talked in this strain. His earnestness could do no harm to anybody. +There was no danger of anyone taking seriously his dream of tropical +coal, so what was the use of hurting his feelings?</p> +<p>Thus reasoned men in reputable business offices where he had his +entrée as a person who came out East with letters of introduction +- and modest letters of credit, too - some years before these coal-outcrops +began to crop up in his playfully courteous talk. From the first +there was some difficulty in making him out. He was not a traveller. +A traveller arrives and departs, goes on somewhere. Heyst did +not depart. I met a man once - the manager of the branch of the +Oriental Banking Corporation in Malacca - to whom Heyst exclaimed, in +no connection with anything in particular (it was in the billiard-room +of the club):</p> +<p>“I am enchanted with these islands!”</p> +<p>He shot it out suddenly, <i>à propos des bottes</i>, as the +French say, and while chalking his cue. And perhaps it was some +sort of enchantment. There are more spells than your commonplace +magicians ever dreamed of.</p> +<p>Roughly speaking, a circle with a radius of eight hundred miles drawn +round a point in North Borneo was in Heyst’s case a magic circle. +It just touched Manila, and he had been seen there. It just touched +Saigon, and he was likewise seen there once. Perhaps these were +his attempts to break out. If so, they were failures. The +enchantment must have been an unbreakable one. The manager - the +man who heard the exclamation - had been so impressed by the tone, fervour, +rapture, what you will, or perhaps by the incongruity of it that he +had related the experience to more than one person.</p> +<p>“Queer chap, that Swede,” was his only comment; but this +is the origin of the name “Enchanted Heyst” which some fellows +fastened on our man.</p> +<p>He also had other names. In his early years, long before he +got so becomingly bald on the top, he went to present a letter of introduction +to Mr. Tesman of Tesman Brothers, a Sourabaya firm - tip-top house. +Well, Mr. Tesman was a kindly, benevolent old gentleman. He did +not know what to make of that caller. After telling him that they +wished to render his stay among the islands as pleasant as possible, +and that they were ready to assist him in his plans, and so on, and +after receiving Heyst’s thanks - you know the usual kind of conversation +- he proceeded to query in a slow, paternal tone:</p> +<p>“And you are interested in - ?”</p> +<p>“Facts,” broke in Heyst in his courtly voice. “There’s +nothing worth knowing but facts. Hard facts! Facts alone, +Mr. Tesman.”</p> +<p>I don’t know if old Tesman agreed with him or not, but he must +have spoken about it, because, for a time, our man got the name of “Hard +Facts.” He had the singular good fortune that his sayings +stuck to him and became part of his name. Thereafter he mooned +about the Java Sea in some of the Tesmans’ trading schooners, +and then vanished, on board an Arab ship, in the direction of New Guinea. +He remained so long in that outlying part of his enchanted circle that +he was nearly forgotten before he swam into view again in a native proa +full of Goram vagabonds, burnt black by the sun, very lean, his hair +much thinned, and a portfolio of sketches under his arm. He showed +these willingly, but was very reserved as to anything else. He +had had an “amusing time,” he said. A man who will +go to New Guinea for fun - well!</p> +<p>Later, years afterwards, when the last vestiges of youth had gone +off his face and all the hair off the top of his head, and his red-gold +pair of horizontal moustaches had grown to really noble proportions, +a certain disreputable white man fastened upon him an epithet. +Putting down with a shaking hand a long glass emptied of its contents +- paid for by Heyst - he said, with that deliberate sagacity which no +mere water-drinker ever attained:</p> +<p>“Heyst’s a puffect g’n’lman. Puffect! +But he’s a ut-uto-utopist.”</p> +<p>Heyst had just gone out of the place of public refreshment where +this pronouncement was voiced. Utopist, eh? Upon my word, +the only thing I heard him say which might have had a bearing on the +point was his invitation to old McNab himself. Turning with that +finished courtesy of attitude, movement voice, which was his obvious +characteristic, he had said with delicate playfulness:</p> +<p>“Come along and quench your thirst with us, Mr. McNab!”</p> +<p>Perhaps that was it. A man who could propose, even playfully, +to quench old McNab’s thirst must have been a utopist, a pursuer +of chimeras; for of downright irony Heyst was not prodigal. And, +may be, this was the reason why he was generally liked. At that +epoch in his life, in the fulness of his physical development, of a +broad, martial presence, with his bald head and long moustaches, he +resembled the portraits of Charles XII, of adventurous memory. +However, there was no reason to think that Heyst was in any way a fighting +man.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER TWO</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>It was about this time that Heyst became associated with Morrison +on terms about which people were in doubt. Some said he was a +partner, others said he was a sort of paying guest, but the real truth +of the matter was more complex. One day Heyst turned up in Timor. +Why in Timor, of all places in the world, no one knows. Well, +he was mooning about Delli, that highly pestilential place, possibly +in search of some undiscovered facts, when he came in the street upon +Morrison, who, in his way, was also an “enchanted” man. +When you spoke to Morrison of going home - he was from Dorsetshire - +he shuddered. He said it was dark and wet there; that it was like +living with your head and shoulders in a moist gunny-bag. That +was only his exaggerated style of talking. Morrison was “one +of us.” He was owner and master of the <i>Capricorn</i>, +trading brig, and was understood to be doing well with her, except for +the drawback of too much altruism. He was the dearly beloved friend +of a quantity of God-forsaken villages up dark creeks and obscure bays, +where he traded for produce. He would often sail , through awfully +dangerous channels up to some miserable settlement, only to find a very +hungry population clamorous for rice, and without so much “produce” +between them as would have filled Morrison’s suitcase. Amid +general rejoicings, he would land the rice all the same, explain to +the people that it was an advance, that they were in debt to him now; +would preach to them energy and industry, and make an elaborate note +in a pocket-diary which he always carried; and this would be the end +of that transaction. I don’t know if Morrison thought so, +but the villagers had no doubt whatever about it. Whenever a coast +village sighted the brig it would begin to beat all its gongs and hoist +all its streamers, and all its girls would put flowers in their hair +and the crowd would line the river bank, and Morrison would beam and +glitter at all this excitement through his single eyeglass with an air +of intense gratification. He was tall and lantern-jawed, and clean-shaven, +and looked like a barrister who had thrown his wig to the dogs.</p> +<p>We used to remonstrate with him:</p> +<p>“You will never see any of your advances if you go on like +this, Morrison.”</p> +<p>He would put on a knowing air.</p> +<p>“I shall squeeze them yet some day - never you fear. +And that reminds me” - pulling out his inseparable pocketbook +- “there’s that So-and-So village. They are pretty +well off again; I may just as well squeeze them to begin with.”</p> +<p>He would make a ferocious entry in the pocketbook.</p> +<p><i>Memo</i>: Squeeze the So-and-So village at the first time of calling.</p> +<p>Then he would stick the pencil back and snap the elastic on with +inflexible finality; but he never began the squeezing. Some men +grumbled at him. He was spoiling the trade. Well, perhaps +to a certain extent; not much. Most of the places he traded with +were unknown not only to geography but also to the traders’ special +lore which is transmitted by word of mouth, without ostentation, and +forms the stock of mysterious local knowledge. It was hinted also +that Morrison had a wife in each and every one of them, but the majority +of us repulsed these innuendoes with indignation. He was a true +humanitarian and rather ascetic than otherwise.</p> +<p>When Heyst met him in Delli, Morrison was walking along the street, +his eyeglass tossed over his shoulder, his head down, with the hopeless +aspect of those hardened tramps one sees on our roads trudging from +workhouse to workhouse. Being hailed on the street he looked up +with a wild worried expression. He was really in trouble. +He had come the week before into Delli and the Portuguese authorities, +on some pretence of irregularity in his papers, had inflicted a fine +upon him and had arrested his brig.</p> +<p>Morrison never had any spare cash in hand. With his system +of trading it would have been strange if he had; and all these debts +entered in the pocketbook weren’t good enough to raise a <i>millrei</i> +on - let alone a shilling. The Portuguese officials begged him +not to distress himself. They gave him a week’s grace, and +then proposed to sell the brig at auction. This meant ruin for +Morrison; and when Heyst hailed him across the street in his usual courtly +tone, the week was nearly out.</p> +<p>Heyst crossed over, and said with a slight bow, and in the manner +of a prince addressing another prince on a private occasion:</p> +<p>“What an unexpected pleasure. Would you have any objection +to drink something with me in that infamous wine-shop over there? +The sun is really too strong to talk in the street.”</p> +<p>The haggard Morrison followed obediently into a sombre, cool hovel +which he would have distained to enter at any other time. He was +distracted. He did not know what he was doing. You could +have led him over the edge of a precipice just as easily as into that +wine-shop. He sat down like an automaton. He was speechless, +but he saw a glass full of rough red wine before him, and emptied it. +Heyst meantime, politely watchful, had taken a seat opposite.</p> +<p>“You are in for a bout of fever, I fear,” he said sympathetically.</p> +<p>Poor Morrison’s tongue was loosened at that.</p> +<p>“Fever!” he cried. “Give me fever. +Give me plague. They are diseases. One gets over them. +But I am being murdered. I am being murdered by the Portuguese. +The gang here downed me at last among them. I am to have my throat +cut the day after tomorrow.”</p> +<p>In the face of this passion Heyst made, with his eyebrows, a slight +motion of surprise which would not have been misplaced in a drawing-room. +Morrison’s despairing reserve had broken down. He had been +wandering with a dry throat all over that miserable town of mud hovels, +silent, with no soul to turn to in his distress, and positively maddened +by his thoughts; and suddenly he had stumbled on a white man, figuratively +and actually white - for Morrison refused to accept the racial whiteness +of the Portuguese officials. He let himself go for the mere relief +of violent speech, his elbows planted on the table, his eyes blood-shot, +his voice nearly gone, the brim of his round pith hat shading an unshaven, +livid face. His white clothes, which he had not taken off for +three days, were dingy. He had already gone to the bad, past redemption. +The sight was shocking to Heyst; but he let nothing of it appear in +his hearing, concealing his impression under that consummate good-society +manner of his. Polite attention, what’s due from one gentleman +listening to another, was what he showed; and, as usual, it was catching; +so that Morrison pulled himself together and finished his narrative +in a conversational tone, with a man-of-the-world air.</p> +<p>“It’s a villainous plot. Unluckily, one is helpless. +That scoundrel Cousinho - Andreas, you know - has been coveting the +brig for years. Naturally, I would never sell. She is not +only my livelihood; she’s my life. So he has hatched this +pretty little plot with the chief of the customs. The sale, of +course, will be a farce. There’s no one here to bid. +He will get the brig for a song - no, not even that - a line of a song. +You have been some years now in the islands, Heyst. You know us +all; you have seen how we live. Now you shall have the opportunity +to see how some of us end; for it is the end, for me. I can’t +deceive myself any longer. You see it - don’t your?”</p> +<p>Morrison had pulled himself together, but one felt the snapping strain +on his recovered self-possession. Heyst was beginning to say that +he “could very well see all the bearings of this unfortunate - +” when Morrison interrupted him jerkily.</p> +<p>“Upon my word, I don’t know why I have been telling you +all this. I suppose seeing a thoroughly white man made it impossible +to keep my trouble to myself. Words can’t do it justice; +but since I’ve told you so much I may as well tell you more. +Listen. This morning on board, in my cabin I went down on my knees +and prayed for help. I went down on my knees!”</p> +<p>“You are a believer, Morrison?” asked Heyst with a distinct +note of respect.</p> +<p>“Surely I am not an infidel.”</p> +<p>Morrison was swiftly reproachful in his answer, and there came a +pause, Morrison perhaps interrogating his conscience, and Heyst preserving +a mien of unperturbed, polite interest.</p> +<p>“I prayed like a child, of course. I believe in children +praying - well, women, too, but I rather think God expects men to be +more self-reliant. I don’t hold with a man everlastingly +bothering the Almighty with his silly troubles. It seems such +cheek. Anyhow, this morning I - I have never done any harm to +any God’s creature knowingly - I prayed. A sudden impulse +- I went flop on my knees; so you may judge - ”</p> +<p>They were gazing earnestly into each other’s eyes. Poor +Morrison added, as a discouraging afterthought:</p> +<p>“Only this is such a God-forsaken spot.”</p> +<p>Heyst inquired with a delicate intonation whether he might know the +amount for which the brig was seized.</p> +<p>Morrison suppressed an oath, and named curtly a sum which was in +itself so insignificant that any other person than Heyst would have +exclaimed at it. And even Heyst could hardly keep incredulity +out of his politely modulated voice as he asked if it was a fact that +Morrison had not that amount in hand.</p> +<p>Morrison hadn’t. He had only a little English gold, a +few sovereigns, on board. He had left all his spare cash with +the Tesmans, in Samarang, to meet certain bills which would fall due +while he was away on his cruise. Anyhow, that money would not +have been any more good to him than if it had been in the innermost +depths of the infernal regions. He said all this brusquely. +He looked with sudden disfavour at that noble forehead, at those great +martial moustaches, at the tired eyes of the man sitting opposite him. +Who the devil was he? What was he, Morrison, doing there, talking +like this? Morrison knew no more of Heyst than the rest of us +trading in the Archipelago did. Had the Swede suddenly risen and +hit him on the nose, he could not have been taken more aback than when +this stranger, this nondescript wanderer, said with a little bow across +the table:</p> +<p>“Oh! If that’s the case I would be very happy if +you’d allow me to be of use!”</p> +<p>Morrison didn’t understand. This was one of those things +that don’t happen - unheard of things. He had no real inkling +of what it meant, till Heyst said definitely:</p> +<p>“I can lend you the amount.”</p> +<p>“You have the money?” whispered Morrison. “Do +you mean here, in your pocket?”</p> +<p>“Yes, on me. Glad to be of use.”</p> +<p>Morrison, staring open-mouthed, groped over his shoulder for the +cord of the eyeglass hanging down his back. When he found it, +he stuck it in his eye hastily. It was as if he expected Heyst’s +usual white suit of the tropics to change into a shining garment, flowing +down to his toes, and a pair of great dazzling wings to sprout out on +the Swede’s shoulders - and didn’t want to miss a single +detail of the transformation. But if Heyst was an angle from on +high, sent in answer to prayer, he did not betray his heavenly origin +by outward signs. So, instead of going on his knees, as he felt +inclined to do, Morrison stretched out his hand, which Heyst grasped +with formal alacrity and a polite murmur in which “Trifle - delighted +- of service,” could just be distinguished.</p> +<p>“Miracles do happen,” thought the awestruck Morrison. +To him, as to all of us in the Islands, this wandering Heyst, who didn’t +toil or spin visibly, seemed the very last person to be the agent of +Providence in an affair concerned with money. The fact of his +turning up in Timor or anywhere else was no more wonderful than the +settling of a sparrow on one’s window-sill at any given moment. +But that he should carry a sum of money in his pocket seemed somehow +inconceivable.</p> +<p>So inconceivable that as they were trudging together through the +sand of the roadway to the custom-house - another mud hovel - to pay +the fine, Morrison broke into a cold sweat, stopped short, and exclaimed +in faltering accents:</p> +<p>“I say! You aren’t joking, Heyst?”</p> +<p>“Joking!” Heyst’s blue eyes went hard as +he turned them on the discomposed Morrison. “In what way, +may I ask?” he continued with austere politeness.</p> +<p>Morrison was abashed.</p> +<p>“Forgive me, Heyst. You must have been sent by God in +answer to my prayer. But I have been nearly off my chump for three +days with worry; and it suddenly struck me: ‘What if it’s +the Devil who has sent him?’”</p> +<p>“I have no connection with the supernatural,” said Heyst +graciously, moving on. “Nobody has sent me. I just +happened along.”</p> +<p>“I know better,” contradicted Morrison. “I +may be unworthy, but I have been heard. I know it. I feel +it. For why should you offer - ”</p> +<p>Heyst inclined his head, as from respect for a conviction in which +he could not share. But he stuck to his point by muttering that +in the presence of an odious fact like this, it was natural -</p> +<p>Later in the day, the fine paid, and the two of them on board the +brig, from which the guard had been removed, Morrison who, besides, +being a gentleman was also an honest fellow began to talk about repayment. +He knew very well his inability to lay by any sum of money. It +was partly the fault of circumstances and partly of his temperament; +and it would have been very difficult to apportion the responsibility +between the two. Even Morrison himself could not say, while confessing +to the fact. With a worried air he ascribed it to fatality:</p> +<p>“I don’t know how it is that I’ve never been able +to save. It’s some sort of curse. There’s always +a bill or two to meet.”</p> +<p>He plunged his hand into his pocket for the famous notebook so well +known in the islands, the fetish of his hopes, and fluttered the pages +feverishly.</p> +<p>“And yet - look,” he went on. “There it is +- more than five thousand dollars owing. Surely that’s something.”</p> +<p>He ceased suddenly. Heyst, who had been all the time trying +to look as unconcerned as he could, made reassuring noises in his throat. +But Morrison was not only honest. He was honourable, too; and +on this stressful day, before this amazing emissary of Providence and +in the revulsion of his feelings, he made his great renunciation. +He cast off the abiding illusion of his existence.</p> +<p>“No. No. They are not good. I’ll never +be able to squeeze them. Never. I’ve been saying for +years I would, but I give it up. I never really believed I could. +Don’t reckon on that, Heyst. I have robbed you.”</p> +<p>Poor Morrison actually laid his head on the cabin table, and remained +in that crushed attitude while Heyst talked to him soothingly with the +utmost courtesy. The Swede was as much distressed as Morrison; +for he understood the other’s feelings perfectly. No decent +feeling was ever scorned by Heyst. But he was incapable of outward +cordiality of manner, and he felt acutely his defect. Consummate +politeness is not the right tonic for an emotional collapse. They +must have had, both of them, a fairly painful time of it in the cabin +of the brig. In the end Morrison, casting desperately for an idea +in the blackness of his despondency, hit upon the notion of inviting +Heyst to travel with him in his brig and have a share in his trading +ventures up to the amount of his loan.</p> +<p>It is characteristic of Heyst’s unattached, floating existence +that he was in a position to accept this proposal. There is no +reason to think that he wanted particularly just then to go poking aboard +the brig into all the holes and corners of the Archipelago where Morrison +picked up most of his trade. Far from it; but he would have consented +to almost any arrangement in order to put an end to the harrowing scene +in the cabin. There was at once a great transformation act: Morrison +raising his diminished head, and sticking the glass in his eye to looked +affectionately at Heyst, a bottle being uncorked, and so on. It +was agreed that nothing should be said to anyone of this transaction. +Morrison, you understand, was not proud of the episode, and he was afraid +of being unmercifully chaffed.</p> +<p>“An old bird like me! To let myself be trapped by those +damned Portuguese rascals! I should never hear the last of it. +We must keep it dark.”</p> +<p>From quite other motives, among which his native delicacy was the +principal, Heyst was even more anxious to bind himself to silence. +A gentleman would naturally shrink from the part of heavenly messenger +that Morrison would force upon him. It made Heyst uncomfortable, +as it was. And perhaps he did not care that it should be known +that he had some means, whatever they might have been - sufficient, +at any rate, to enable him to lend money to people. These two +had a duet down there, like conspirators in a comic opera, of “Sh +- ssh, shssh! Secrecy! Secrecy!” It must have +been funny, because they were very serious about it.</p> +<p>And for a time the conspiracy was successful in so far that we all +concluded that Heyst was boarding with the good-natured - some +said: sponging on the imbecile - Morrison, in his brig. But you +know how it is with all such mysteries. There is always a leak +somewhere. Morrison himself, not a perfect vessel by any means, +was bursting with gratitude, and under the stress he must have let out +something vague - enough to give the island gossip a chance. And +you know how kindly the world is in its comments on what it does not +understand. A rumour sprang out that Heyst, having obtained some +mysterious hold on Morrison, had fastened himself on him and was sucking +him dry. Those who had traced these mutters back to their origin +were very careful not to believe them. The originator, it seems, +was a certain Schomberg, a big, manly, bearded creature of the Teutonic +persuasion, with an ungovernable tongue which surely must have worked +on a pivot. Whether he was a Lieutenant of the Reserve, as he +declared, I don’t know. Out there he was by profession a +hotel-keeper, first in Bangkok, then somewhere else, and ultimately +in Sourabaya. He dragged after him up and down that section of +the tropical belt a silent, frightened, little woman with long ringlets, +who smiled at one stupidly, showing a blue tooth. I don’t +know why so many of us patronized his various establishments. +He was a noxious ass, and he satisfied his lust for silly gossip at +the cost of his customers. It was he who, one evening, as Morrison +and Heyst went past the hotel - they were not his regular patrons - +whispered mysteriously to the mixed company assembled on the veranda:</p> +<p>“The spider and the fly just gone by, gentlemen.” +Then, very important and confidential, his thick paw at the side of +his mouth: “We are among ourselves; well, gentlemen, all I can +say is, I don’t you ever get mixed up with that Swede. Don’t +you ever get caught in his web.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER THREE</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Human nature being what it is, having a silly side to it as well +as a mean side, there were not a few who pretended to be indignant on +no better authority than a general propensity to believe every evil +report; and a good many others who found it simply funny to call Heyst +the Spider - behind his back, of course. He was as serenely unconscious +of this as of his several other nicknames. But soon people found +other things to say of Heyst; not long afterwards he came very much +to the fore in larger affairs. He blossomed out into something +definite. He filled the public eye as the manager on the spot +of the Tropical Belt Coal Company with offices in London and Amsterdam, +and other things about it that sounded and looked grandiose. The +offices in the two capitals may have consisted - and probably did - +of one room in each; but at that distance, out East there, all this +had an air. We were more puzzled than dazzled, it is true; but +even the most sober-minded among us began to think that there was something +in it. The Tesmans appointed agents, a contract for government +mail-boats secured, the era of steam beginning for the islands - a great +stride forward - Heyst’s stride!</p> +<p>And all this sprang from the meeting of the cornered Morrison and +of the wandering Heyst, which may or may not have been the direct outcome +of a prayer. Morrison was not an imbecile, but he seemed to have +got himself into a state of remarkable haziness as to his exact position +towards Heyst. For, if Heyst had been sent with money in his pocket +by a direct decree of the Almighty in answer to Morrison’s prayer +then there was no reason for special gratitude, since obviously he could +not help himself. But Morrison believed both, in the efficacy +of prayer and in the infinite goodness of Heyst. He thanked God +with awed sincerity for his mercy, and could not thank Heyst enough +for the service rendered as between man and man. In this (highly +creditable) tangle of strong feelings Morrison’s gratitude insisted +on Heyst’s partnership in the great discovery. Ultimately +we heard that Morrison had gone home through the Suez Canal in order +to push the magnificent coal idea personally in London. He parted +from his brig and disappeared from our ken; but we heard that he had +written a letter or letters to Heyst, saying that London was cold and +gloomy; that he did not like either the men or things, that he was “as +lonely as a crow in a strange country.” In truth, he pined +after the <i>Capricorn</i> - I don’t mean only the tropic; I mean +the ship too. Finally he went into Dorsetshire to see his people, +caught a bad cold, and died with extraordinary precipitation in the +bosom of his appalled family. Whether his exertions in the City +of London had enfeebled his vitality I don’t know; but I believe +it was this visit which put life into the coal idea. Be it as +it may, the Tropical Belt Coal Company was born very shortly after Morrison, +the victim of gratitude and his native climate, had gone to join his +forefathers in a Dorsetshire churchyard.</p> +<p>Heyst was immensely shocked. He got the news in the Moluccas +through the Tesmans, and then disappeared for a time. It appears +that he stayed with a Dutch government doctor in Amboyna, a friend of +his who looked after him for a bit in his bungalow. He became +visible again rather suddenly, his eyes sunk in his head, and with a +sort of guarded attitude, as if afraid someone would reproach him with +the death of Morrison.</p> +<p>Naïve Heyst! As if anybody would . . . Nobody amongst +us had any interest in men who went home. They were all right; +they did not count any more. Going to Europe was nearly as final +as going to Heaven. It removed a man from the world of hazard +and adventure.</p> +<p>As a matter of fact, many of us did not hear of this death till months +afterwards - from Schomberg, who disliked Heyst gratuitously and made +up a piece of sinister whispered gossip:</p> +<p>“That’s what comes of having anything to do with that +fellow. He squeezes you dry like a lemon, then chucks you out +- sends you home to die. Take warning by Morrison!”</p> +<p>Of course, we laughed at the innkeeper’s suggestions of black +mystery. Several of us heard that Heyst was prepared to go to +Europe himself, to push on his coal enterprise personally; but he never +went. It wasn’t necessary. The company was formed +without him, and his nomination of manager in the tropics came out to +him by post.</p> +<p>From the first he had selected Samburan, or Round Island, for the +central station. Some copies of the prospectus issued in Europe, +having found their way out East, were passed from hand to hand. +We greatly admired the map which accompanied them for the edification +of the shareholders. On it Samburan was represented as the central +spot of the Eastern Hemisphere with its name engraved in enormous capitals. +Heavy lines radiated from it in all directions through the tropics, +figuring a mysterious and effective star - lines of influence or lines +of distance, or something of that sort. Company promoters have +an imagination of their own. There’s no more romantic temperament +on earth than the temperament of a company promoter. Engineers +came out, coolies were imported, bungalows were put up on Samburan, +a gallery driven into the hillside, and actually some coal got out.</p> +<p>These manifestations shook the soberest minds. For a time everybody +in the islands was talking of the Tropical Belt Coal, and even those +who smiled quietly to themselves were only hiding their uneasiness. +Oh, yes; it had come, and anybody could see what would be the consequences +- the end of the individual trader, smothered under a great invasion +of steamers. We could not afford to buy steamers. Not we. +And Heyst was the manager.</p> +<p>“You know, Heyst, enchanted Heyst.”</p> +<p>“Oh, come! He has been no better than a loafer around +here as far back as any of us can remember.”</p> +<p>“Yes, he said he was looking for facts. Well, he’s +got hold of one that will do for all of us,” commented a bitter +voice.</p> +<p>“That’s what they call development - and be hanged to +it!” muttered another.</p> +<p>Never was Heyst talked about so much in the tropical belt before.</p> +<p>“Isn’t he a Swedish baron or something?”</p> +<p>“He, a baron? Get along with you!”</p> +<p>For my part I haven’t the slightest doubt that he was. +While he was still drifting amongst the islands, enigmatical and disregarded +like an insignificant ghost, he told me so himself on a certain occasion. +It was a long time before he materialized in this alarming way into +the destroyer of our little industry - Heyst the Enemy.</p> +<p>It became the fashion with a good many to speak of Heyst as the Enemy. +He was very concrete, very visible now. He was rushing all over +the Archipelago, jumping in and out of local mail-packets as if they +had been tram-cars, here, there, and everywhere - organizing with all +his might. This was no mooning about. This was business. +And this sudden display of purposeful energy shook the incredulity of +the most sceptical more than any scientific demonstration of the value +of these coal-outcrops could have done. It was impressive. +Schomberg was the only one who resisted the infection. Big, manly +in a portly style, and profusely bearded, with a glass of beer in his +thick paw, he would approach some table where the topic of the hour +was being discussed, would listen for a moment, and then come out with +his invariable declaration:</p> +<p>“All this is very well, gentlemen; but he can’t throw +any of his coal-dust in my eyes. There’s nothing in it. +Why, there can’t be anything in it. A fellow like that for +manager? Phoo!”</p> +<p>Was it the clairvoyance of imbecile hatred, or mere stupid tenacity +of opinion, which ends sometimes by scoring against the world in a most +astonishing manner? Most of us can remember instances of triumphant +folly; and that ass Schomberg triumphed. The T.B.C. Company went +into liquidation, as I began by telling you. The Tesmans washed +their hands of it. The Government cancelled those famous contracts, +the talk died out, and presently it was remarked here and there that +Heyst had faded completely away. He had become invisible, as in +those early days when he used to make a bolt clear out of sight in his +attempts to break away from the enchantment of “these isles,” +either in the direction of New Guinea or in the direction of Saigon +- to cannibals or to cafés. The enchanted Heyst! +Had he at last broken the spell? Had he died? We were too +indifferent to wonder overmuch. You see we had on the whole liked +him well enough. And liking is not sufficient to keep going the +interest one takes in a human being. With hatred, apparently, +it is otherwise. Schomberg couldn’t forget Heyst. +The keen, manly Teutonic creature was a good hater. A fool often +is.</p> +<p>“Good evening, gentlemen. Have you got everything you +want? So! Good! You see? What was I always telling +you? Aha! There was nothing in it. I knew it. +But what I would like to know is what became of that - Swede.”</p> +<p>He put a stress on the word Swede as if it meant scoundrel. +He detested Scandinavians generally. Why? Goodness only +knows. A fool like that is unfathomable. He continued:</p> +<p>“It’s five months or more since I have spoken to anybody +who has seen him.”</p> +<p>As I have said, we were not much interested; but Schomberg, of course, +could not understand that. He was grotesquely dense. Whenever +three people came together in his hotel, he took good care that Heyst +should be with them.</p> +<p>“I hope the fellow did not go and drown himself,” he +would add with a comical earnestness that ought to have made us shudder; +only our crowd was superficial, and did not apprehend the psychology +of this pious hope.</p> +<p>“Why? Heyst isn’t in debt to you for drinks is +he?” somebody asked him once with shallow scorn.</p> +<p>“Drinks! Oh, dear no!”</p> +<p>The innkeeper was not mercenary. Teutonic temperament seldom +is. But he put on a sinister expression to tell us that Heyst +had not paid perhaps three visits altogether to his “establishment.” +This was Heyst’s crime, for which Schomberg wished him nothing +less than a long and tormented existence. Observe the Teutonic +sense of proportion and nice forgiving temper.</p> +<p>At last, one afternoon, Schomberg was seen approaching a group of +his customers. He was obviously in high glee. He squared +his manly chest with great importance.</p> +<p>“Gentlemen, I have news of him. Who? why, that Swede. +He is still on Samburan. He’s never been away from it. +The company is gone, the engineers are gone, the clerks are gone, the +coolies are gone, everything’s gone; but there he sticks. +Captain Davidson, coming by from the westward, saw him with his own +eyes. Something white on the wharf, so he steamed in and went +ashore in a small boat. Heyst, right enough. Put a book +into his pocket, always very polite. Been strolling on the wharf +and reading. ‘I remain in possession here,’ he told +Captain Davidson. What I want to know is what he gets to eat there. +A piece of dried fish now and then - what? That’s coming +down pretty low for a man who turned up his nose at my table d’hôte!”</p> +<p>He winked with immense malice. A bell started ringing, and +he led the way to the dining-room as if into a temple, very grave, with +the air of a benefactor of mankind. His ambition was to feed it +at a profitable price, and his delight was to talk of it behind its +back. It was very characteristic of him to gloat over the idea +of Heyst having nothing decent to eat.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER FOUR</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>A few of us who were sufficiently interested went to Davidson for +details. These were not many. He told us that he passed +to the north of Samburan on purpose to see what was going on. +At first, it looked as if that side of the island had been altogether +abandoned. This was what he expected. Presently, above the +dense mass of vegetation that Samburan presents to view, he saw the +head of the flagstaff without a flag. Then, while steaming across +the slight indentation which for a time was known officially as Black +Diamond Bay, he made out with his glass the white figure on the coaling-wharf. +It could be no one but Heyst.</p> +<p>“I thought for certain he wanted to be taken off, so I steamed +in. He made no signs. However, I lowered a boat. I +could not see another living being anywhere. Yes. He had +a book in his hand. He looked exactly as we have always seen him +- very neat, white shoes, cork helmet. He explained to me that +he had always had a taste for solitude. It was the first I ever +heard of it, I told him. He only smiled. What could I say? +He isn’t the sort of man one can speak familiarly to. There’s +something in him. One doesn’t care to.</p> +<p>“‘But what’s the object? Are you thinking +of keeping possession of the mine?’ I asked him.</p> +<p>“‘Something of the sort,’ he says. ‘I +am keeping hold.’</p> +<p>“‘But all this is as dead as Julius Cæsar,’ +I cried. ‘In fact, you have nothing worth holding on to, +Heyst.’</p> +<p>“‘Oh, I am done with facts,’ says he, putting his +hand to his helmet sharply with one of his short bows.”</p> +<p>Thus dismissed, Davidson went on board his ship, swung her out, and +as he was steaming away he watched from the bridge Heyst walking shoreward +along the wharf. He marched into the long grass and vanished - +all but the top of his white cork helmet, which seemed to swim in a +green sea. Then that too disappeared, as if it had sunk into the +living depths of the tropical vegetation, which is more jealous of men’s +conquests than the ocean, and which was about to close over the last +vestiges of the liquidated Tropical Belt Coal Company - A. Heyst, manager +in the East.</p> +<p>Davidson, a good, simple fellow in his way, was strangely affected. +It is to be noted that he knew very little of Heyst. He was one +of those whom Heyst’s finished courtesy of attitude and intonation +most strongly disconcerted. He himself was a fellow of fine feeling, +I think, though of course he had no more polish than the rest of us. +We were naturally a hail-fellow-well-met crowd, with standards of our +own - no worse, I daresay, than other people’s; but polish was +not one of them. Davidson’s fineness was real enough to +alter the course of the steamer he commanded. Instead of passing +to the south of Samburan, he made it his practice to take the passage +along the north shore, within about a mile of the wharf.</p> +<p>“He can see us if he likes to see us,” remarked Davidson. +Then he had an afterthought: “I say! I hope he won’t +think I am intruding, eh?”</p> +<p>We reassured him on the point of correct behaviour. The sea +is open to all.</p> +<p>This slight deviation added some ten miles to Davidson’s round +trip, but as that was sixteen hundred miles it did not matter much.</p> +<p>“I have told my owner of it,” said the conscientious +commander of the <i>Sissie</i>.</p> +<p>His owner had a face like an ancient lemon. He was small and +wizened - which was strange, because generally a Chinaman, as he grows +in prosperity, puts on inches of girth and stature. To serve a +Chinese firm is not so bad. Once they become convinced you deal +straight by them, their confidence becomes unlimited. You can +do no wrong. So Davidson’s old Chinaman squeaked hurriedly:</p> +<p>“All right, all right, all right. You do what you like, +captain - ”</p> +<p>And there was an end of the matter; not altogether, though. +From time to time the Chinaman used to ask Davidson about the white +man. He was still there, eh?</p> +<p>“I never see him,” Davidson had to confess to his owner, +who would peer at him silently through round, horn-rimmed spectacles, +several sizes too large for his little old face. “I never +see him.”</p> +<p>To me, on occasions he would say:</p> +<p>“I haven’t a doubt he’s there. He hides. +It’s very unpleasant.” Davidson was a little vexed +with Heyst. “Funny thing,” he went on. “Of +all the people I speak to, nobody ever asks after him but that Chinaman +of mine - and Schomberg,” he added after a while.</p> +<p>Yes, Schomberg, of course. He was asking everybody about everything, +and arranging the information into the most scandalous shape his imagination +could invent. From time to time he would step up, his blinking, +cushioned eyes, his thick lips, his very chestnut beard, looking full +of malice.</p> +<p>“Evening, gentlemen. Have you got all you want? +So! Good! Well, I am told the jungle has choked the very +sheds in Black Diamond Bay. Fact. He’s a hermit in +the wilderness now. But what can this manager get to eat there? +It beats me.”</p> +<p>Sometimes a stranger would inquire with natural curiosity:</p> +<p>“Who? What manager?”</p> +<p>“Oh, a certain Swede,” - with a sinister emphasis, as +if he were saying “a certain brigand.” “Well +known here. He’s turned hermit from shame. That’s +what the devil does when he’s found out.”</p> +<p>Hermit. This was the latest of the more or less witty labels +applied to Heyst during his aimless pilgrimage in this section of the +tropical belt, where the inane clacking of Schomberg’s tongue +vexed our ears.</p> +<p>But apparently Heyst was not a hermit by temperament. The sight +of his land was not invincibly odious to him. We must believe +this, since for some reason or other he did come out from his retreat +for a while. Perhaps it was only to see whether there were any +letters for him at the Tesmans. I don’t know. No one +knows. But this reappearance shows that his detachment from the +world was not complete. And incompleteness of any sort leads to +trouble. Axel Heyst ought not to have cared for his letters - +or whatever it was that brought him out after something more than a +year and a half in Samburan. But it was of no use. He had +not the hermit’s vocation! That was the trouble, it seems.</p> +<p>Be this as it may, he suddenly reappeared in the world, broad chest, +bald forehead, long moustaches, polite manner, and all - the complete +Heyst, even to the kindly sunken eyes on which there still rested the +shadow of Morrison’s death. Naturally, it was Davidson who +had given him a lift out of his forsaken island. There were no +other opportunities, unless some native craft were passing by - a very +remote and unsatisfactory chance to wait for. Yes, he came out +with Davidson, to whom he volunteered the statement that it was only +for a short time - a few days, no more. He meant to go back to +Samburan.</p> +<p>Davidson expressing his horror and incredulity of such foolishness, +Heyst explained that when the company came into being he had his few +belongings sent out from Europe.</p> +<p>To Davidson, as to any of us, the idea of Heyst, the wandering drifting, +unattached Heyst, having any belongings of the sort that can furnish +a house was startlingly novel. It was grotesquely fantastic. +It was like a bird owning real property.</p> +<p>“Belongings? Do you mean chairs and tables?” Davidson +asked with unconcealed astonishment.</p> +<p>Heyst did mean that. “My poor father died in London. +It has been all stored there ever since,” he explained.</p> +<p>“For all these years?” exclaimed Davidson, thinking how +long we all had known Heyst flitting from tree to tree in a wilderness.</p> +<p>“Even longer,” said Heyst, who had understood very well.</p> +<p>This seemed to imply that he had been wandering before he came under +our observation. In what regions? And what early age? +Mystery. Perhaps he was a bird that had never had a nest.</p> +<p>“I left school early,” he remarked once to Davidson, +on the passage. “It was in England. A very good school. +I was not a shining success there.”</p> +<p>The confessions of Heyst. Not one of us - with the probable +exception of Morrison, who was dead - had ever heard so much of his +history. It looks as if the experience of hermit life had the +power to loosen one’s tongue, doesn’t it?</p> +<p>During that memorable passage, in the <i>Sissie</i>, which took about +two days, he volunteered other hints - for you could not call it information +- about his history. And Davidson was interested. He was +interested not because the hints were exciting but because of that innate +curiosity about our fellows which is a trait of human nature. +Davidson’s existence, too, running the <i>Sissie</i> along the +Java Sea and back again, was distinctly monotonous and, in a sense, +lonely. He never had any sort of company on board. Native +deck-passengers in plenty, of course, but never a white man, so the +presence of Heyst for two days must have been a godsend. Davidson +was telling us all about it afterwards. Heyst said that his father +had written a lot of books. He was a philosopher.</p> +<p>“Seems to me he must have been something of a crank, too,” +was Davidson’s comment. “Apparently he had quarrelled +with his people in Sweden. Just the sort of father you would expect +Heyst to have. Isn’t he a bit of a crank himself? +He told me that directly his father died he lit out into the wide world +on his own, and had been on the move till he fetched up against this +famous coal business. Fits the son of the father somehow, don’t +you think?”</p> +<p>For the rest, Heyst was as polite as ever. He offered to pay +for his passage; but when Davidson refused to hear of it he seized him +heartily by the hand, gave one of his courtly bows, and declared that +he was touched by his friendly proceedings.</p> +<p>“I am not alluding to this trifling amount which you decline +to take,” he went on, giving a shake to Davidson’s hand. +“But I am touched by your humanity.” Another shake. +“Believe me, I am profoundly aware of having been an object of +it.” Final shake of the hand. All this meant that +Heyst understood in a proper sense the little <i>Sissie’s</i> +periodic appearance in sight of his hermitage.</p> +<p>“He’s a genuine gentleman,” Davidson said to us. +“I was really sorry when he went ashore.”</p> +<p>We asked him where he had left Heyst.</p> +<p>“Why, in Sourabaya - where else?”</p> +<p>The Tesmans had their principal counting-house in Sourabaya. +There had long existed a connection between Heyst and the Tesmans. +The incongruity of a hermit having agents did not strike us, nor yet +the absurdity of a forgotten cast-off, derelict manager of a wrecked, +collapsed, vanished enterprise, having business to attend to. +We said Sourabaya, of course, and took it for granted that he would +stay with one of the Tesmans. One of us even wondered what sort +of reception he would get; for it was known that Julius Tesman was unreasonably +bitter about the Tropical Belt Coal fiasco. But Davidson set us +right. It was nothing of the kind. Heyst went to stay in +Schomberg’s hotel, going ashore in the hotel launch. Not +that Schomberg would think of sending his launch alongside a mere trader +like the <i>Sissie</i>. But she had been meeting a coastal mail-packet, +and had been signalled to. Schomberg himself was steering her.</p> +<p>“You should have seen Schomberg’s eyes bulge out when +Heyst jumped in with an ancient brown leather bag!” said Davidson. +“He pretended not to know who it was - at first, anyway. +I didn’t go ashore with them. We didn’t stay more +than a couple of hours altogether. Landed two thousand coconuts +and cleared out. I have agreed to pick him up again on my next +trip in twenty days’ time.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER FIVE</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Davidson happened to be two days late on his return trip; no great +matter, certainly, but he made a point of going ashore at once, during +the hottest hour of the afternoon, to look for Heyst. Schomberg’s +hotel stood back in an extensive enclosure containing a garden, some +large trees, and, under their spreading boughs, a detached “hall +available for concerts and other performances,” as Schomberg worded +it in his advertisements. Torn, and fluttering bills, intimating +in heavy red capitals CONCERTS EVERY NIGHT, were stuck on the brick +pillars on each side of the gateway.</p> +<p>The walk had been long and confoundedly sunny. Davidson stood +wiping his wet neck and face on what Schomberg called “the piazza.” +Several doors opened on to it, but all the screens were down. +Not a soul was in sight, not even a China boy - nothing but a lot of +painted iron chairs and tables. Solitude, shade, and gloomy silence +- and a faint, treacherous breeze which came from under the trees and +quite unexpectedly caused the melting Davidson to shiver slightly - +the little shiver of the tropics which in Sourabaya, especially, often +means fever and the hospital to the incautious white man.</p> +<p>The prudent Davidson sought shelter in the nearest darkened room. +In the artificial dusk, beyond the levels of shrouded billiard-tables, +a white form heaved up from two chairs on which it had been extended. +The middle of the day, table d’hôte tiffin once over, was +Schomberg’s easy time. He lounged out, portly, deliberate, +on the defensive, the great fair beard like a cuirass over his manly +chest. He did not like Davidson, never a very faithful client +of his. He hit a bell on one of the tables as he went by, and +asked in a distant, Officer-in-Reserve manner:</p> +<p>“You desire?”</p> +<p>The good Davidson, still sponging his wet neck, declared with simplicity +that he had come to fetch away Heyst, as agreed.</p> +<p>“Not here!”</p> +<p>A Chinaman appeared in response to the bell. Schomberg turned +to him very severely:</p> +<p>“Take the gentleman’s order.”</p> +<p>Davidson had to be going. Couldn’t wait - only begged +that Heyst should be informed that the <i>Sissie</i> would leave at +midnight.</p> +<p>“Not - here, I am telling you!”</p> +<p>Davidson slapped his thigh in concern.</p> +<p>“Dear me! Hospital, I suppose.” A natural +enough surmise in a very feverish locality.</p> +<p>The Lieutenant of the Reserve only pursed up his mouth and raised +his eyebrows without looking at him. It might have meant anything, +but Davidson dismissed the hospital idea with confidence. However, +he had to get hold of Heyst between this and midnight:</p> +<p>“He has been staying here?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Yes, he was staying here.”</p> +<p>“Can you tell me where he is now?” Davidson went on placidly. +Within himself he was beginning to grow anxious, having developed the +affection of a self-appointed protector towards Heyst. The answer +he got was:</p> +<p>“Can’t tell. It’s none of my business,” +accompanied by majestic oscillations of the hotel-keeper’s head, +hinting at some awful mystery.</p> +<p>Davidson was placidity itself. It was his nature. He +did not betray his sentiments, which were not favourable to Schomberg.</p> +<p>“I am sure to find out at the Tesmans’ office,” +he thought. But it was a very hot hour, and if Heyst was down +at the port he would have learned already that the <i>Sissie</i> was +in. It was even possible that Heyst had already gone on board, +where he could enjoy a coolness denied to the town. Davidson, +being stout, was much preoccupied with coolness and inclined to immobility. +He lingered awhile, as if irresolute. Schomberg, at the door, +looking out, affected perfect indifference. He could not keep +it up, though. Suddenly he turned inward and asked with brusque +rage:</p> +<p>“You wanted to see him?”</p> +<p>“Why, yes,” said Davidson. “We agreed to +meet - ”</p> +<p>“Don’t you bother. He doesn’t care about +that now.”</p> +<p>“Doesn’t he?”</p> +<p>“Well, you can judge for yourself. He isn’t here, +is he? You take my word for it. Don’t you bother about +him. I am advising you as a friend.”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” said, Davidson, inwardly startled at the +savage tone. “I think I will sit down for a moment and have +a drink, after all.”</p> +<p>This was not what Schomberg had expected to hear. He called +brutally:</p> +<p>“Boy!”</p> +<p>The Chinaman approached, and after referring him to the white man +by a nod the hotel-keeper departed, muttering to himself. Davidson +heard him gnash his teeth as he went.</p> +<p>Davidson sat alone with the billiard-tables as if there had been +not a soul staying in the hotel. His placidity was so genuine +that he was not unduly, fretting himself over the absence of Heyst, +or the mysterious manners Schomberg had treated him to. He was +considering these things in his own fairly shrewd way. Something +had happened; and he was loath to go away to investigate, being restrained +by a presentiment that somehow enlightenment would come to him there. +A poster of CONCERTS EVERY EVENING, like those on the gate, but in a +good state of preservation, hung on the wall fronting him. He +looked at it idly and was struck by the fact - then not so very common +- that it was a ladies’ orchestra; “Zangiacomo’s eastern +tour - eighteen performers.” The poster stated that they +had had the honour of playing their select repertoire before various +colonial excellencies, also before pashas, sheiks, chiefs, H. H. the +Sultan of Mascate, etc., etc.</p> +<p>Davidson felt sorry for the eighteen lady-performers. He knew +what that sort of life was like, the sordid conditions and brutal incidents +of such tours led by such Zangiacomos who often were anything but musicians +by profession. While he was staring at the poster, a door somewhere +at his back opened, and a woman came in who was looked upon as Schomberg’s +wife, no doubt with truth. As somebody remarked cynically once, +she was too unattractive to be anything else. The opinion that +he treated her abominably was based on her frightened expression. +Davidson lifted his hat to her. Mrs. Schomberg gave him an inclination +of her sallow head and incontinently sat down behind a sort of raised +counter, facing the door, with a mirror and rows of bottles at her back. +Her hair was very elaborately done with two ringlets on the left side +of her scraggy neck; her dress was of silk, and she had come on duty +for the afternoon. For some reason or other Schomberg exacted +this from her, though she added nothing to the fascinations of the place. +She sat there in the smoke and noise, like an enthroned idol, smiling +stupidly over the billiards from time to time, speaking to no one, and +no one speaking to her. Schomberg himself took no more interest +in her than may be implied in a sudden and totally unmotived scowl. +Otherwise the very Chinamen ignored her existence.</p> +<p>She had interrupted Davidson in his reflections. Being alone +with her, her silence and open-mouthed immobility made him uncomfortable. +He was easily sorry for people. It seemed rude not to take any +notice of her. He said, in allusion to the poster:</p> +<p>“Are you having these people in the house?”</p> +<p>She was so unused to being addressed by customers that at the sound +of his voice she jumped in her seat. Davidson was telling us afterwards +that she jumped exactly like a figure made of wood, without losing her +rigid immobility. She did not even move her eyes; but she answered +him freely, though her very lips seemed made of wood.</p> +<p>“They stayed here over a month. They are gone now. +They played every evening.”</p> +<p>“Pretty good, were they?”</p> +<p>To this she said nothing; and as she kept on staring fixedly in front +of her, her silence disconcerted Davidson. It looked as if she +had not heard him - which was impossible. Perhaps she drew the +line of speech at the expression of opinions. Schomberg might +have trained her, for domestic reasons, to keep them to herself. +But Davidson felt in honour obliged to converse; so he said, putting +his own interpretation on this surprising silence:</p> +<p>“I see - not much account. Such bands hardly ever are. +An Italian lot, Mrs. Schomberg, to judge by the name of the boss?”</p> +<p>She shook her head negatively.</p> +<p>“No. He is a German really; only he dyes his hair and +beard black for business. Zangiacomo is his business name.”</p> +<p>“That’s a curious fact,” said Davidson. His +head being full of Heyst, it occurred to him that she might be aware +of other facts. This was a very amazing discovery to anyone who +looked at Mrs. Schomberg. Nobody had ever suspected her of having +a mind. I mean even a little of it, I mean any at all. One +was inclined to think of her as an It - an automaton, a very plain dummy, +with an arrangement for bowing the head at times and smiling stupidly +now and then. Davidson viewed her profile with a flattened nose, +a hollow cheek, and one staring, unwinking, goggle eye. He asked +himself: Did that speak just now? Will it speak again? It +was as exciting, for the mere wonder of it, as trying to converse with +a mechanism. A smile played about the fat features of Davidson; +the smile of a man making an amusing experiment. He spoke again +to her:</p> +<p>“But the other members of that orchestra were real Italians, +were they not?”</p> +<p>Of course, he didn’t care. He wanted to see whether the +mechanism would work again. It did. It said they were not. +They were of all sorts, apparently. It paused, with the one goggle +eye immovably gazing down the whole length of the room and through the +door opening on to the “piazza.” It paused, then went +on in the same low pitch:</p> +<p>“There was even one English girl.”</p> +<p>“Poor devil!” - said Davidson, “I suppose these +women are not much better than slaves really. Was that fellow +with the dyed beard decent in his way?”</p> +<p>The mechanism remained silent. The sympathetic soul of Davidson +drew its own conclusions.</p> +<p>“Beastly life for these women!” he said. “When +you say an English girl, Mrs. Schomberg, do you really mean a young +girl? Some of these orchestra girls are no chicks.”</p> +<p>“Young enough,” came the low voice out of Mrs. Schomberg’s +unmoved physiognomy.</p> +<p>Davidson, encouraged, remarked that he was sorry for her. He +was easily sorry for people.</p> +<p>“Where did they go to from here?” he asked.</p> +<p>“She did not go with them. She ran away.”</p> +<p>This was the pronouncement Davidson obtained next. It introduced +a new sort of interest.</p> +<p>“Well! Well!” he exclaimed placidly; and then, +with the air of a man who knows life: “Who with?” he inquired +with assurance.</p> +<p>Mrs. Schomberg’s immobility gave her an appearance of listening +intently. Perhaps she was really listening; but Schomberg must +have been finishing his sleep in some distant part of the house. +The silence was profound, and lasted long enough to become startling. +Then, enthroned above Davidson, she whispered at last:</p> +<p>“That friend of yours.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you know I am here looking for a friend,” said Davidson +hopefully. “Won’t you tell me - ”</p> +<p>“I’ve told you”</p> +<p>“Eh?”</p> +<p>A mist seemed to roll away from before Davidson’s eyes, disclosing +something he could not believe.</p> +<p>“You can’t mean it!” he cried. “He’s +not the man for it.” But the last words came out in a faint +voice. Mrs. Schomberg never moved her head the least bit. +Davidson, after the shock which made him sit up, went slack all over.</p> +<p>“Heyst! Such a perfect gentleman!” he exclaimed +weakly.</p> +<p>Mrs. Schomberg did not seem to have heard him. This startling +fact did not tally somehow with the idea Davidson had of Heyst. +He never talked of women, he never seemed to think of them, or to remember +that they existed; and then all at once - like this! Running off +with a casual orchestra girl!</p> +<p>“You might have knocked me down with a feather,” Davidson +told us some time afterwards.</p> +<p>By then he was taking an indulgent view of both the parties to that +amazing transaction. First of all, on reflection, he was by no +means certain that it prevented Heyst from being a perfect gentleman, +as before. He confronted our open grins or quiet smiles with a +serious round face. Heyst had taken the girl away to Samburan; +and that was no joking matter. The loneliness, the ruins of the +spot, had impressed Davidson’s simple soul. They were incompatible +with the frivolous comments of people who had not seen it. That +black jetty, sticking out of the jungle into the empty sea; these roof-ridges +of deserted houses peeping dismally above the long grass! Ough! +The gigantic and funeral blackboard sign of the Tropical Belt Coal Company, +still emerging from a wild growth of bushes like an inscription stuck +above a grave figured by the tall heap of unsold coal at the shore end +of the wharf, added to the general desolation.</p> +<p>Thus the sensitive Davidson. The girl must have been miserable +indeed to follow such a strange man to such a spot. Heyst had, +no doubt, told her the truth. He was a gentleman. But no +words could do justice to the conditions of life on Samburan. +A desert island was nothing to it. Moreover, when you were cast +away on a desert island - why, you could not help yourself; but to expect +a fiddle-playing girl out of an ambulant ladies’ orchestra to +remain content there for a day, for one single day, was inconceivable. +She would be frightened at the first sight of it. She would scream.</p> +<p>The capacity for sympathy in these stout, placid men! Davidson +was stirred to the depths; and it was easy to see that it was about +Heyst that he was concerned. We asked him if he had passed that +way lately.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes. I always do - about half a mile off.”</p> +<p>“Seen anybody about?”</p> +<p>“No, not a soul. Not a shadow.”</p> +<p>“Did you blow your whistle?”</p> +<p>“Blow the whistle? You think I would do such a thing?”</p> +<p>He rejected the mere possibility of such an unwarrantable intrusion. +Wonderfully delicate fellow, Davidson!</p> +<p>“Well, but how do you know that they are there?” he was +naturally asked.</p> +<p>Heyst had entrusted Mrs. Schomberg with a message for Davidson - +a few lines in pencil on a scrap of crumpled paper. It was to +the effect: that an unforeseen necessity was driving him away before +the appointed time. He begged Davidson’s indulgence for +the apparent discourtesy. The woman of the house - meaning Mrs. +Schomberg - would give him the facts, though unable to explain them, +of course.</p> +<p>“What was there to explain?” wondered Davidson dubiously.</p> +<p>“He took a fancy to that fiddle-playing girl, and - ”</p> +<p>“And she to him, apparently,” I suggested.</p> +<p>“Wonderfully quick work,” reflected Davidson. “What +do you think will come of it?”</p> +<p>“Repentance, I should say. But how is it that Mrs. Schomberg +has been selected for a confidante?”</p> +<p>For indeed a waxwork figure would have seemed more useful than that +woman whom we all were accustomed to see sitting elevated above the +two billiard-tables - without expression, without movement, without +voice, without sight.</p> +<p>“Why, she helped the girl to bolt,” said Davidson turning +at me his innocent eyes, rounded by the state of constant amazement +in which this affair had left him, like those shocks of terror or sorrow +which sometimes leave their victim afflicted by nervous trembling. +It looked as though he would never get over it.</p> +<p>“Mrs. Schomberg jerked Heyst’s note, twisted like a pipe-light, +into my lap while I sat there unsuspecting,” Davidson went on. +“Directly I had recovered my senses, I asked her what on earth +she had to do with it that Heyst should leave it with her. And +then, behaving like a painted image rather than a live woman, she whispered, +just loud enough for me to hear:</p> +<p>“I helped them. I got her things together, tied them +up in my own shawl, and threw them into the compound out of a back window. +I did it.”</p> +<p>“That woman that you would say hadn’t the pluck to lift +her little finger!” marvelled Davidson in his quiet, slightly +panting voice. “What do you think of that?”</p> +<p>I thought she must have had some interest of her own to serve. +She was too lifeless to be suspected of impulsive compassion. +It was impossible to think that Heyst had bribed her. Whatever +means he had, he had not the means to do that. Or could it be +that she was moved by that disinterested passion for delivering a woman +to a man which in respectable spheres is called matchmaking? - a highly +irregular example of it!</p> +<p>“It must have been a very small bundle,” remarked Davidson +further.</p> +<p>“I imagine the girl must have been specially attractive,” +I said.</p> +<p>“I don’t know. She was miserable. I don’t +suppose it was more than a little linen and a couple of those white +frocks they wear on the platform.”</p> +<p>Davidson pursued his own train of thought. He supposed that +such a thing had never been heard of in the history of the tropics. +For where could you find anyone to steal a girl out of an orchestra? +No doubt fellows here and there took a fancy to some pretty one - but +it was not for running away with her. Oh dear no! It needed +a lunatic like Heyst.</p> +<p>“Only think what it means,” wheezed Davidson, imaginative +under his invincible placidity. “Just only try to think! +Brooding alone on Samburan has upset his brain. He never stopped +to consider, or he couldn’t have done it. No sane man . +. . How is a thing like that to go on? What’s he going to +do with her in the end? It’s madness.”</p> +<p>“You say that he’s mad. Schomberg tells us that +he must be starving on his island; so he may end yet by eating her,” +I suggested.</p> +<p>Mrs. Schomberg had had no time to enter into details, Davidson told +us. Indeed, the wonder was that they had been left alone so long. +The drowsy afternoon was slipping by. Footsteps and voices resounded +on the veranda - I beg pardon, the piazza; the scraping of chairs, the +ping of a smitten bell. Customers were turning up. Mrs. +Schomberg was begging Davidson hurriedly, but without looking at him, +to say nothing to anyone, when on a half-uttered word her nervous whisper +was cut short. Through a small inner door Schomberg came in, his +hair brushed, his beard combed neatly, but his eyelids still heavy from +his nap. He looked with suspicion at Davidson, and even glanced +at his wife; but he was baffled by the natural placidity of the one +and the acquired habit of immobility in the other.</p> +<p>“Have you sent out the drinks?” he asked surlily.</p> +<p>She did not open her lips, because just then the head boy appeared +with a loaded tray, on his way out. Schomberg went to the door +and greeted the customers outside, but did not join them. He remained +blocking half the doorway, with his back to the room, and was still +there when Davidson, after sitting still for a while, rose to go. +At the noise he made Schomberg turned his head, watched him lift his +hat to Mrs. Schomberg and receive her wooden bow accompanied by a stupid +grin, and then looked away. He was loftily dignified. Davidson +stopped at the door, deep in his simplicity.</p> +<p>“I am sorry you won’t tell me anything about my friend’s +absence,” he said. “My friend Heyst, you know. +I suppose the only course for me now is to make inquiries down at the +port. I shall hear something there, I don’t doubt.”</p> +<p>“Make inquiries of the devil!” replied Schomberg in a +hoarse mutter.</p> +<p>Davidson’s purpose in addressing the hotel-keeper had been +mainly to make Mrs. Schomberg safe from suspicion; but he would fain +have heard something more of Heyst’s exploit from another point +of view. It was a shrewd try. It was successful in a rather +startling way, because the hotel-keeper’s point of view was horribly +abusive. All of a sudden, in the same hoarse sinister tone, he +proceeded to call Heyst many names, of which “pig-dog” was +not the worst, with such vehemence that he actually choked himself. +Profiting from the pause, Davidson, whose temperament could withstand +worse shocks, remonstrated in an undertone:</p> +<p>“It’s unreasonable to get so angry as that. Even +if he had run off with your cash-box - ”</p> +<p>The big hotel-keeper bent down and put his infuriated face close +to Davidson’s.</p> +<p>“My cash-box! My - he - look here, Captain Davidson! +He ran off with a girl. What do I care for the girl? The +girl is nothing to me.”</p> +<p>He shot out an infamous word which made Davidson start. That’s +what the girl was; and he reiterated the assertion that she was nothing +to him. What he was concerned for was the good name of his house. +Wherever he had been established, he had always had “artist parties” +staying in his house. One recommended him to the others; but what +would happen now, when it got about that leaders ran the risk in his +house - his house - of losing members of their troupe? And just +now, when he had spent seven hundred and thirty-four guilders in building +a concert-hall in his compound. Was that a thing to do in a respectable +hotel? The cheek, the indecency, the impudence, the atrocity! +Vagabond, impostor, swindler, ruffian, <i>schwein-hund</i>!</p> +<p>He had seized Davidson by a button of his coat, detaining him in +the doorway, and exactly in the line of Mrs. Schomberg’s stony +gaze. Davidson stole a glance in that direction and thought of +making some sort of reassuring sign to her, but she looked so bereft +of senses, and almost of life, perched up there, that it seemed not +worth while. He disengaged his button with firm placidity. +Thereupon, with a last stifled curse, Schomberg vanished somewhere within, +to try and compose his spirits in solitude. Davidson stepped out +on the veranda. The party of customers there had become aware +of the explosive interlude in the doorway. Davidson knew one of +these men, and nodded to him in passing; but his acquaintance called +out:</p> +<p>“Isn’t he in a filthy temper? He’s been like +that ever since.”</p> +<p>The speaker laughed aloud, while all the others sat smiling. +Davidson stopped.</p> +<p>“Yes, rather.” His feelings were, he told us, those +of bewildered resignation; but of course that was no more visible to +the others than the emotions of a turtle when it withdraws into its +shell.</p> +<p>“It seems unreasonable,” he murmured thoughtfully.</p> +<p>“Oh, but they had a scrap!” the other said.</p> +<p>“What do you mean? Was there a fight! - a fight with +Heyst?” asked Davidson, much perturbed, if somewhat incredulous.</p> +<p>“Heyst? No, these two - the bandmaster, the fellow who’s +taking these women about and our Schomberg. Signor Zangiacomo +ran amuck in the morning, and went for our worthy friend. I tell +you, they were rolling on the floor together on this very veranda, after +chasing each other all over the house, doors slamming, women screaming, +seventeen of them, in the dining-room; Chinamen up the trees. +Hey, John? You climb tree to see the fight, eh?”</p> +<p>The boy, almond-eyed and impassive, emitted a scornful grunt, finished +wiping the table, and withdrew.</p> +<p>“That’s what it was - a real, go-as-you-please scrap. +And Zangiacomo began it. Oh, here’s Schomberg. Say, +Schomberg, didn’t he fly at you, when the girl was missed, because +it was you who insisted that the artists should go about the audience +during the interval?”</p> +<p>Schomberg had reappeared in the doorway. He advanced. +His bearing was stately, but his nostrils were extraordinarily expanded, +and he controlled his voice with apparent effort.</p> +<p>“Certainly. That was only business. I quoted him +special terms and all for your sake, gentlemen. I was thinking +of my regular customers. There’s nothing to do in the evenings +in this town. I think, gentlemen, you were all pleased at the +opportunity of hearing a little good music; and where’s the harm +of offering a grenadine, or what not, to a lady artist? But that +fellow - that Swede - he got round the girl. He got round all +the people out here. I’ve been watching him for years. +You remember how he got round Morrison.”</p> +<p>He changed front abruptly, as if on parade, and marched off. +The customers at the table exchanged glances silently. Davidson’s +attitude was that of a spectator. Schomberg’s moody pacing +of the billiard-room could be heard on the veranda.</p> +<p>“And the funniest part is,” resumed the man who had been +speaking before - an English clerk in a Dutch house - “the funniest +part is that before nine o’clock that same morning those two were +driving together in a gharry down to the port, to look for Heyst and +the girl. I saw them rushing around making inquiries. I +don’t know what they would have done to the girl, but they seemed +quite ready to fall upon your Heyst, Davidson, and kill him on the quay.”</p> +<p>He had never, he said, seen anything so queer. Those two investigators +working feverishly to the same end were glaring at each other with surprising +ferocity. In hatred and mistrust they entered a steam-launch, +and went flying from ship to ship all over the harbour, causing no end +of sensation. The captains of vessels, coming on shore later in +the day, brought tales of a strange invasion, and wanted to know who +were the two offensive lunatics in a steam-launch, apparently after +a man and a girl, and telling a story of which one could make neither +head nor tail. Their reception by the roadstead was generally +unsympathetic, even to the point of the mate of an American ship bundling +them out over the rail with unseemly precipitation.</p> +<p>Meantime Heyst and the girl were a good few miles away, having gone +in the night on board one of the Tesman schooners bound to the eastward. +This was known afterwards from the Javanese boatmen whom Heyst hired +for the purpose at three o’clock in the morning. The Tesman +schooner had sailed at daylight with the usual land breeze, and was +probably still in sight in the offing at the time. However, the +two pursuers after their experience with the American mate, made for +the shore. On landing, they had another violent row in the German +language. But there was no second fight; and finally, with looks +of fierce animosity, they got together into a gharry - obviously with +the frugal view of sharing expenses - and drove away, leaving an astonished +little crowd of Europeans and natives on the quay.</p> +<p>After hearing this wondrous tale, Davidson went away from the hotel +veranda, which was filling with Schomberg’s regular customers. +Heyst’s escapade was the general topic of conversation. +Never before had that unaccountable individual been the cause of so +much gossip, he judged. No! Not even in the beginnings of +the Tropical Belt Coal Company when becoming for a moment a public character +was he the object of a silly criticism and unintelligent envy for every +vagabond and adventurer in the islands. Davidson concluded that +people liked to discuss that sort of scandal better than any other.</p> +<p>I asked him if he believed that this was such a great scandal after +all.</p> +<p>“Heavens, no!” said that excellent man who, himself, +was incapable of any impropriety of conduct. “But it isn’t +a thing I would have done myself; I mean even if I had not been married.”</p> +<p>There was no implied condemnation in the statement; rather something +like regret. Davidson shared my suspicion that this was in its +essence the rescue of a distressed human being. Not that we were +two romantics, tingeing the world to the hue of our temperament, but +that both of us had been acute enough to discover a long time ago that +Heyst was.</p> +<p>“I shouldn’t have had the pluck,” he continued. +“I see a thing all round, as it were; but Heyst doesn’t, +or else he would have been scared. You don’t take a woman +into a desert jungle without being made sorry for it sooner or later, +in one way or another; and Heyst being a gentleman only makes it worse.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER SIX</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>We said no more about Heyst on that occasion, and it so happened +that I did not meet Davidson again for some three months. When +we did come together, almost the first thing he said to me was:</p> +<p>“I’ve seen him.”</p> +<p>Before I could exclaim, he assured me that he had taken no liberty, +that he had not intruded. He was called in. Otherwise he +would not have dreamed of breaking in upon Heyst’s privacy.</p> +<p>“I am certain you wouldn’t,” I assured him, concealing +my amusement at his wonderful delicacy. He was the most delicate +man that ever took a small steamer to and fro among the islands. +But his humanity, which was not less strong and praiseworthy, had induced +him to take his steamer past Samburan wharf (at an average distance +of a mile) every twenty-three days - exactly. Davidson was delicate, +humane, and regular.</p> +<p>“Heyst called you in?” I asked, interested.</p> +<p>Yes, Heyst had called him in as he was going by on his usual date. +Davidson was examining the shore through his glasses with his unwearied +and punctual humanity as he steamed past Samburan.</p> +<p>I saw a man in white. It could only have been Heyst. +He had fastened some sort of enormous flag to a bamboo pole, and was +waving it at the end of the old wharf.</p> +<p>Davidson didn’t like to take his steamer alongside - for fear +of being indiscreet, I suppose; but he steered close inshore, stopped +his engines, and lowered a boat. He went himself in that boat, +which was manned, of course, by his Malay seamen.</p> +<p>Heyst, when he saw the boat pulling towards him, dropped his signalling-pole; +and when Davidson arrived, he was kneeling down engaged busily in unfastening +the flag from it.</p> +<p>“Was there anything wrong?” I inquired, Davidson having +paused in his narrative and my curiosity being naturally aroused. +You must remember that Heyst as the Archipelago knew him was not - what +shall I say - was not a signalling sort of man.</p> +<p>“The very words that came out of my mouth,” said Davidson, +“before I laid the boat against the piles. I could not help +it!”</p> +<p>Heyst got up from his knees and began carefully folding up the flag +thing, which struck Davidson as having the dimensions of a blanket.</p> +<p>“No, nothing wrong,” he cried. His white teeth +flashed agreeably below the coppery horizontal bar of his long moustaches.</p> +<p>I don’t know whether it was his delicacy or his obesity which +prevented Davidson from clambering upon the wharf. He stood up +in the boat, and, above him, Heyst stooped low with urbane smiles, thanking +him and apologizing for the liberty, exactly in his usual manner. +Davidson had expected some change in the man, but there was none. +Nothing in him betrayed the momentous fact that within that jungle there +was a girl, a performer in a ladies’ orchestra, whom he had carried +straight off the concert platform into the wilderness. He was +not ashamed or defiant or abashed about it. He might have been +a shade confidential when addressing Davidson. And his words were +enigmatical.</p> +<p>“I took this course of signalling to you,” he said to +Davidson, “because to preserve appearances might be of the utmost +importance. Not to me, of course. I don’t care what +people may say, and of course no one can hurt me. I suppose I +have done a certain amount of harm, since I allowed myself to be tempted +into action. It seemed innocent enough, but all action is bound +to be harmful. It is devilish. That is why this world is +evil upon the whole. But I have done with it! I shall never +lift a little finger again. At one time I thought that intelligent +observation of facts was the best way of cheating the time which is +allotted to us whether we want it or not; but now I, have done with +observation, too.”</p> +<p>Imagine poor, simple Davidson being addressed in such terms alongside +an abandoned, decaying wharf jutting out of tropical bush. He +had never heard anybody speak like this before; certainly not Heyst, +whose conversation was concise, polite, with a faint ring of playfulness +in the cultivated tones of his voice.</p> +<p>“He’s gone mad,” Davidson thought to himself.</p> +<p>But, looking at the physiognomy above him on the wharf, he was obliged +to dismiss the notion of common, crude lunacy. It was truly most +unusual talk. Then he remembered - in his surprise he had lost +sight of it - that Heyst now had a girl there. This bizarre discourse +was probably the effect of the girl. Davidson shook off the absurd +feeling, and asked, wishing to make clear his friendliness, and not +knowing what else to say:</p> +<p>“You haven’t run short of stores or anything like that?”</p> +<p>Heyst smiled and shook his head:</p> +<p>“No, no. Nothing of the kind. We are fairly well +off here. Thanks, all the same. If I have taken the liberty +to detain you, it is I not from any uneasiness for myself and my - companion. +The person I was thinking of when I made up my mind to invoke your assistance +is Mrs. Schomberg.”</p> +<p>“I have talked with her,” interjected Davidson.</p> +<p>“Oh! You? Yes, I hoped she would find means to +- ”</p> +<p>“But she didn’t tell me much,” interrupted Davidson, +who was not averse from hearing something - he hardly knew what.</p> +<p>“H’m - Yes. But that note of mine? Yes? +She found an opportunity to give it to you? That’s good, +very good. She’s more resourceful than one would give her +credit for.”</p> +<p>“Women often are - ” remarked Davidson. The strangeness +from which he had suffered, merely because his interlocutor had carried +off a girl, wore off as the minutes went by. “There’s +a lot of unexpectedness about women,” he generalized with a didactic +aim which seemed to miss its mark; for the next thing Heyst said was:</p> +<p>“This is Mrs. Schomberg’s shawl.” He touched +the stuff hanging over his arm. “An Indian thing, I believe,” +he added, glancing at his arm sideways.</p> +<p>“It isn’t of particular value,” said Davidson truthfully.</p> +<p>“Very likely. The point is that it belongs to Schomberg’s +wife. That Schomberg seems to be an unconscionable ruffian - don’t +you think so?”</p> +<p>Davidson smiled faintly.</p> +<p>“We out here have got used to him,” he said, as if excusing +a universal and guilty toleration of a manifest nuisance. “I’d +hardly call him that. I only know him as a hotel-keeper.”</p> +<p>“I never knew him even as that - not till this time, when you +were so obliging as to take me to Sourabaya, I went to stay there from +economy. The Netherlands House is very expensive, and they expect +you to bring your own servant with you. It’s a nuisance.”</p> +<p>“Of course, of course,” protested Davidson hastily.</p> +<p>After a short silence Heyst returned to the matter of the shawl. +He wanted to send it back to Mrs. Schomberg. He said that it might +be very awkward for her if she were unable, if asked, to produce it. +This had given him, Heyst, much uneasiness. She was terrified +of Schomberg. Apparently she had reason to be.</p> +<p>Davidson had remarked that, too. Which did not prevent her, +he pointed out, from making a fool of him, in a way, for the sake of +a stranger.</p> +<p>“Oh! You know!” said Heyst. “Yes, she +helped me - us.”</p> +<p>“She told me so. I had quite a talk with her,” +Davidson informed him. “Fancy anyone having a talk with +Mrs. Schomberg! If I were to tell the fellows they wouldn’t +believe me. How did you get round her, Heyst? How did you +think of it? Why, she looks too stupid to understand human speech +and too scared to shoo a chicken away. Oh, the women, the women! +You don’t know what there may be in the quietest of them.”</p> +<p>“She was engaged in the task of defending her position in life,” +said Heyst. “It’s a very respectable task.”</p> +<p>“Is that it? I had some idea it was that,” confessed +Davidson.</p> +<p>He then imparted to Heyst the story of the violent proceedings following +on the discovery of his flight. Heyst’s polite attention +to the tale took on a sombre cast; but he manifested no surprise, and +offered no comment. When Davidson had finished he handed down +the shawl into the boat, and Davidson promised to do his best to return +it to Mrs. Schomberg in some secret fashion. Heyst expressed his +thanks in a few simple words, set off by his manner of finished courtesy. +Davidson prepared to depart. They were not looking at each other. +Suddenly Heyst spoke:</p> +<p>“You understand that this was a case of odious persecution, +don’t you? I became aware of it and - ”</p> +<p>It was a view which the sympathetic Davidson was capable of appreciating.</p> +<p>“I am not surprised to hear it,” he said placidly. +“Odious enough, I dare say. And you, of course - not being +a married man - were free to step in. Ah, well!”</p> +<p>He sat down in the stern-sheets, and already had the steering lines +in his hands when Heyst observed abruptly:</p> +<p>“The world is a bad dog. It will bite you if you give +it a chance; but I think that here we can safely defy the fates.”</p> +<p>When relating all this to me, Davidson’s only comment was:</p> +<p>“Funny notion of defying the fates - to take a woman in tow!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER SEVEN</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Some considerable time afterwards - we did not meet very often - +I asked Davidson how he had managed about the shawl and heard that he +had tackled his mission in a direct way, and had found it easy enough. +At the very first call he made in Samarang he rolled the shawl as tightly +as he could into the smallest possible brown-paper parcel, which he +carried ashore with him. His business in the town being transacted, +he got into a gharry with the parcel and drove to the hotel. With +his precious experience, he timed his arrival accurately for the hour +of Schomberg’s siesta. Finding the place empty as on the +former occasion, he marched into the billiard-room, took a seat at the +back, near the sort of dais which Mrs. Schomberg would in due course +come to occupy, and broke the slumbering silence of the house by thumping +a bell vigorously. Of course a Chinaman appeared promptly. +Davidson ordered a drink and sat tight.</p> +<p>“I would have ordered twenty drinks one after another, if necessary,” +he said - Davidson’s a very abstemious man - “rather than +take that parcel out of the house again. Couldn’t leave +it in a corner without letting the woman know it was there. It +might have turned out worse for her than not bringing the thing back +at all.”</p> +<p>And so he waited, ringing the bell again and again, and swallowing +two or three iced drinks which he did not want. Presently, as +he hoped it would happen, Mrs. Schomberg came in, silk dress, long neck, +ringlets, scared eyes, and silly grin - all complete. Probably +that lazy beast had sent her out to see who was the thirsty customer +waking up the echoes of the house at this quiet hour. Bow, nod +- and she clambered up to her post behind the raised counter, looking +so helpless, so inane, as she sat there, that if it hadn’t been +for the parcel, Davidson declared, he would have thought he had merely +dreamed all that had passed between them. He ordered another drink, +to get the Chinaman out of the room, and then seized the parcel, which +was reposing on a chair near him, and with no more than a mutter - “this +is something of yours” - he rammed it swiftly into a recess in +the counter, at her feet. There! The rest was her affair. +And just in time, too. Schomberg turned up, yawning affectedly, +almost before Davidson had regained his seat. He cast about suspicious +and irate glances. An invincible placidity of expression helped +Davidson wonderfully at the moment, and the other, of course, could +have no grounds for the slightest suspicion of any sort of understanding +between his wife and this customer.</p> +<p>As to Mrs. Schomberg, she sat there like a joss. Davidson was +lost in admiration. He believed, now, that the woman had been +putting it on for years. She never even winked. It was immense! +The insight he had obtained almost frightened him; he couldn’t +get over his wonder at knowing more of the real Mrs. Schomberg than +anybody in the Islands, including Schomberg himself. She was a +miracle of dissimulation. No wonder Heyst got the girl away from +under two men’s noses, if he had her to help with the job!</p> +<p>The greatest wonder, after all, was Heyst getting mixed up with petticoats. +The fellow’s life had been open to us for years and nothing could +have been more detached from feminine associations. Except that +he stood drinks to people on suitable occasions, like any other man, +this observer of facts seemed to have no connection with earthly affairs +and passions. The very courtesy of his manner, the flavour of +playfulness in the voice set him apart. He was like a feather +floating lightly in the workaday atmosphere which was the breath of +our nostrils. For this reason whenever this looker-on took contact +with things he attracted attention. First, it was the Morrison +partnership of mystery, then came the great sensation of the Tropical +Belt Coal where indeed varied interests were involved: a real business +matter. And then came this elopement, this incongruous phenomenon +of self-assertion, the greatest wonder of all, astonishing and amusing.</p> +<p>Davidson admitted to me that, the hubbub was subsiding; and the affair +would have been already forgotten, perhaps, if that ass Schomberg had +not kept on gnashing his teeth publicly about it. It was really +provoking that Davidson should not be able to give one some idea of +the girl. Was she pretty? He didn’t know. He +had stayed the whole afternoon in Schomberg’s hotel, mainly for +the purpose of finding out something about her. But the story +was growing stale. The parties at the tables on the veranda had +other, fresher, events to talk about and Davidson shrank from making +direct inquiries. He sat placidly there, content to be disregarded +and hoping for some chance word to turn up. I shouldn’t +wonder if the good fellow hadn’t been dozing. It’s +difficult to give you an adequate idea of Davidson’s placidity.</p> +<p>Presently Schomberg, wandering about, joined a party that had taken +the table next to Davidson’s.</p> +<p>“A man like that Swede, gentlemen, is a public danger,” +he began. “I remember him for years. I won’t +say anything of his spying - well, he used to say himself he was looking +for out-of-the-way facts and what is that if not spying? He was +spying into everybody’s business. He got hold of Captain +Morrison, squeezed him dry, like you would an orange, and scared him +off to Europe to die there. Everybody knows that Captain Morrison +had a weak chest. Robbed first and murdered afterwards! +I don’t mince words - not I. Next he gets up that swindle +of the Belt Coal. You know all about it. And now, after +lining his pockets with other people’s money, he kidnaps a white +girl belonging to an orchestra which is performing in my public room +for the benefit of my patrons, and goes off to live like a prince on +that island, where nobody can get at him. A damn silly girl . +. . It’s disgusting - tfui!”</p> +<p>He spat. He choked with rage - for he saw visions, no doubt. +He jumped up from his chair, and went away to flee from them - perhaps. +He went into the room where Mrs. Schomberg sat. Her aspect could +not have been very soothing to the sort of torment from which he was +suffering.</p> +<p>Davidson did not feel called upon to defend Heyst. His proceeding +was to enter into conversation with one and another, casually, and showing +no particular knowledge of the affair, in order to discover something +about the girl. Was she anything out of the way? Was she +pretty? She couldn’t have been markedly so. She had +not attracted special notice. She was young - on that everybody +agreed. The English clerk of Tesmans remembered that she had a +sallow face. He was respectable and highly proper. He was +not the sort to associate with such people. Most of these women +were fairly battered specimens. Schomberg had them housed in what +he called the Pavilion, in the grounds, where they were hard at it mending +and washing their white dresses, and could be seen hanging them out +to dry between the trees, like a lot of washerwomen. They looked +very much like middle-aged washerwomen on the platform, too. But +the girl had been living in the main building along with the boss, the +director, the fellow with the black beard, and a hard-bitten, oldish +woman who took the piano and was understood to be the fellow’s +wife.</p> +<p>This was not a very satisfactory result. Davidson stayed on, +and even joined the table d’hôte dinner, without gleaning +any more information. He was resigned.</p> +<p>“I suppose,” he wheezed placidly, “I am bound to +see her some day.”</p> +<p>He meant to take the Samburan channel every trip, as before of course.</p> +<p>“Yes,” I said. “No doubt you will. +Some day Heyst will be signalling to you again; and I wonder what it +will be for.”</p> +<p>Davidson made no reply. He had his own ideas about that, and +his silence concealed a good deal of thought. We spoke no more +of Heyst’s girl. Before we separated, he gave me a piece +of unrelated observation.</p> +<p>“It’s funny,” he said, “but I fancy there’s +some gambling going on in the evening at Schomberg’s place, on +the quiet. I’ve noticed men strolling away in twos and threes +towards that hall where the orchestra used to play. The windows +must be specially well shuttered, because I could not spy the smallest +gleam of light from that direction; but I can’t believe that those +beggars would go in there only to sit and think of their sins in the +dark.”</p> +<p>“That’s strange. It’s incredible that Schomberg +should risk that sort of thing,” I said.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h2>PART TWO</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER ONE</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>As we know, Heyst had gone to stay in Schomberg’s hotel in +complete ignorance that his person was odious to that worthy. +When he arrived, Zangiacomo’s Ladies’ Orchestra had been +established there for some time.</p> +<p>The business which had called him out from his seclusion in his lost +corner of the Eastern seas was with the Tesmans, and it had something +to do with money. He transacted it quickly, and then found himself +with nothing to do while he awaited Davidson, who was to take him back +to his solitude; for back to his solitude Heyst meant to go. He +whom we used to refer to as the Enchanted Heyst was suffering from thorough +disenchantment. Not with the islands, however. The Archipelago +has a lasting fascination. It is not easy to shake off the spell +of island life. Heyst was disenchanted with life as a whole. +His scornful temperament, beguiled into action, suffered from failure +in a subtle way unknown to men accustomed to grapple with the realities +of common human enterprise. It was like the gnawing pain of useless +apostasy, a sort of shame before his own betrayed nature; and in addition, +he also suffered from plain, downright remorse. He deemed himself +guilty of Morrison’s death. A rather absurd feeling, since +no one could possibly have foreseen the horrors of the cold, wet summer +lying in wait for poor Morrison at home.</p> +<p>It was not in Heyst’s character to turn morose; but his mental +state was not compatible with a sociable mood. He spent his evenings +sitting apart on the veranda of Schomberg’s hotel. The lamentations +of string instruments issued from the building in the hotel compound, +the approaches to which were decorated with Japanese paper lanterns +strung up between the trunks of several big trees. Scraps of tunes +more or less plaintive reached his ears. They pursued him even +into his bedroom, which opened into an upstairs veranda. The fragmentary +and rasping character of these sounds made their intrusion inexpressibly +tedious in the long run. Like most dreamers, to whom it is given +sometimes to hear the music of the spheres, Heyst, the wanderer of the +Archipelago, had a taste for silence which he had been able to gratify +for years. The islands are very quiet. One sees them lying +about, clothed in their dark garments of leaves, in a great hush of +silver and azure, where the sea without murmurs meets the sky in a ring +of magic stillness. A sort of smiling somnolence broods over them; +the very voices of their people are soft and subdued, as if afraid to +break some protecting spell.</p> +<p>Perhaps this was the very spell which had enchanted Heyst in the +early days. For him, however, that was broken. He was no +longer enchanted, though he was still a captive of the islands. +He had no intention to leave them ever. Where could he have gone +to, after all these years? Not a single soul belonging to him +lived anywhere on earth. Of this fact - not such a remote one, +after all - he had only lately become aware; for it is failure that +makes a man enter into himself and reckon up his resources. And +though he had made up his mind to retire from the world in hermit fashion, +yet he was irrationally moved by this sense of loneliness which had +come to him in the hour of renunciation. It hurt him. Nothing +is more painful than the shock of sharp contradictions that lacerate +our intelligence and our feelings.</p> +<p>Meantime Schomberg watched Heyst out of the comer of his eye. +Towards the unconscious object of his enmity he preserved a distant +lieutenant-of-the-Reserve demeanour. Nudging certain of his customers +with his elbow, he begged them to observe what airs “that Swede” +was giving himself.</p> +<p>“I really don’t know why he has come to stay in my house. +This place isn’t good enough for him. I wish to goodness +he had gone somewhere else to show off his superiority. Here I +have got up this series of concerts for you gentlemen, just to make +things a little brighter generally; and do you think he’ll condescend +to step in and listen to a piece or two of an evening? Not he. +I know him of old. There he sits at the dark end of the piazza, +all the evening long - planning some new swindle, no doubt. For +two-pence I would ask him to go and look for quarters somewhere else; +only one doesn’t like to treat a white man like that out in the +tropics. I don’t know how long he means to stay, but I’m +willing to bet a trifle that he’ll never work himself up to the +point of spending the fifty cents of entrance money for the sake of +a little good music.”</p> +<p>Nobody cared to bet, or the hotel-keeper would have lost. One +evening Heyst was driven to desperation by the rasped, squeaked, scraped +snatches of tunes pursuing him even to his hard couch, with a mattress +as thin as a pancake and a diaphanous mosquito net. He descended +among the trees, where the soft glow of Japanese lanterns picked out +parts of their great rugged trunks, here and there, in the great mass +of darkness under the lofty foliage. More lanterns, of the shape +of cylindrical concertinas, hanging in a row from a slack string, decorated +the doorway of what Schomberg called grandiloquently “my concert-hall.” +In his desperate mood Heyst ascended three steps, lifted a calico curtain, +and went in.</p> +<p>The uproar in that small, barn-like structure, built of imported +pine boards, and raised clear of the ground, was simply stunning. +An instrumental uproar, screaming, grunting, whining, sobbing, scraping, +squeaking some kind of lively air; while a grand piano, operated upon +by a bony, red-faced woman with bad-tempered nostrils, rained hard notes +like hail through the tempest of fiddles. The small platform was +filled with white muslin dresses and crimson sashes slanting from shoulders +provided with bare arms, which sawed away without respite. Zangiacomo +conducted. He wore a white mess-jacket, a black dress waistcoat, +and white trousers. His longish, tousled hair and his great beard +were purple-black. He was horrible. The heat was terrific. +There were perhaps thirty people having drinks at several little tables. +Heyst, quite overcome by the volume of noise, dropped into a chair. +In the quick time of that music, in the varied, piercing clamour of +the strings, in the movements of the bare arms, in the low dresses, +the coarse faces, the stony eyes of the executants, there was a suggestion +of brutality - something cruel, sensual and repulsive.</p> +<p>“This is awful!” Heyst murmured to himself.</p> +<p>But there is an unholy fascination in systematic noise. He +did not flee from it incontinently, as one might have expected him to +do. He remained, astonished at himself for remaining, since nothing +could have been more repulsive to his tastes, more painful to his senses, +and, so to speak, more contrary to his genius, than this rude exhibition +of vigour. The Zangiacomo band was not making music; it was simply +murdering silence with a vulgar, ferocious energy. One felt as +if witnessing a deed of violence; and that impression was so strong +that it seemed marvellous to see the people sitting so quietly on their +chairs, drinking so calmly out of their glasses, and giving no signs +of distress, anger, or fear. Heyst averted his gaze from the unnatural +spectacle of their indifference.</p> +<p>When the piece of music came to an end the relief was so great that +he felt slightly dizzy, as if a chasm of silence had yawned at his feet. +When he raised his eyes, the audience, most perversely, was exhibiting +signs of animation and interest in their faces, and the women in white +muslin dresses were coming down in pairs from the platform into the +body of Schomberg’s “concert-hall.” They dispersed +themselves all over the place. The male creature with the hooked +nose and purple-black beard disappeared somewhere. This was the +interval during which, as the astute Schomberg had stipulated, the members +of the orchestra were encouraged to favour the members of the audience +with their company - that is, such members as seemed inclined to fraternize +with the arts in a familiar and generous manner; the symbol of familiarity +and generosity consisting in offers of refreshment.</p> +<p>The procedure struck Heyst as highly incorrect. However, the +impropriety of Schomberg’s ingenious scheme was defeated by the +circumstance that most of the women were no longer young, and that none +of them had ever been beautiful. Their more or less worn checks +were slightly rouged, but apart from that fact, which might have been +simply a matter of routine, they did not seem to take the success of +the scheme unduly to heart. The impulse to fraternize with the +arts being obviously weak in the audience, some of the musicians sat +down listlessly at unoccupied tables, while others went on perambulating +the central passage: arm in arm, glad enough, no doubt, to stretch their +legs while resting their arms. Their crimson sashes gave a factitious +touch of gaiety to the smoky atmosphere of the concert-hall; and Heyst +felt a sudden pity for these beings, exploited, hopeless, devoid of +charm and grace, whose fate of cheerless dependence invested their coarse +and joyless features with a touch of pathos.</p> +<p>Heyst was temperamentally sympathetic. To have them passing +and repassing close to his little table was painful to him. He +was preparing to rise and go out when he noticed that two white muslin +dresses and crimson sashes had not yet left the platform. One +of these dresses concealed the raw-boned frame of the woman with the +bad-tempered curve to her nostrils. She was no less a personage +than Mrs. Zangiacomo. She had left the piano, and, with her back +to the hall, was preparing the parts for the second half of the concert, +with a brusque, impatient action of her ugly elbow. This task +done, she turned, and, perceiving the other white muslin dress motionless +on a chair in the second row, she strode towards it between the music-stands +with an aggressive and masterful gait. On the lap of that dress +there lay, unclasped and idle, a pair of small hands, not very white, +attached to well-formed arms. The next detail Heyst was led to +observe was the arrangement of the hair - two thick, brown tresses rolled +round an attractively shaped head.</p> +<p>“A girl, by Jove!” he exclaimed mentally.</p> +<p>It was evident that she was a girl. It was evident in the outline +of the shoulders, in the slender white bust springing up, barred slantwise +by the crimson sash, from the bell-shaped spread of muslin skirt hiding +the chair on which she sat averted a little from the body of the hall. +Her feet, in low white shoes, were crossed prettily.</p> +<p>She had captured Heyst’s awakened faculty of observation; he +had the sensation of a new experience. That was because his faculty +of observation had never before been captured by any feminine creature +in that marked and exclusive fashion. He looked at her anxiously, +as no man ever looks at another man; and he positively forgot where +he was. He had lost touch with his surroundings. The big +woman, advancing, concealed the girl from his sight for a moment. +She bent over the seated youthful figure, in passing it very close, +as if to drop a word into its ear. Her lips did certainly move. +But what sort of word could it have been to make the girl jump up so +swiftly? Heyst, at his table, was surprised into a sympathetic +start. He glanced quickly round. Nobody was looking towards +the platform; and when his eyes swept back there again, the girl, with +the big woman treading at her heels, was coming down the three steps +from the platform to the floor of the hall. There she paused, +stumbled one pace forward, and stood still again, while the other - +the escort, the dragoon, the coarse big woman of the piano - passed +her roughly, and, marching truculently down the centre aisle between +the chairs and tables, went out to rejoin the hook-nosed Zangiacomo +somewhere outside. During her extraordinary transit, as if everything +in the hall were dirt under her feet, her scornful eyes met the upward +glance of Heyst, who looked away at once towards the girl. She +had not moved. Her arms hung down; her eyelids were lowered.</p> +<p>Heyst laid down his half-smoked cigar and compressed his lips. +Then he got up. It was the same sort of impulse which years ago +had made him cross the sandy street of the abominable town of Delli +in the island of Timor and accost Morrison, practically a stranger to +him then, a man in trouble, expressively harassed, dejected, lonely.</p> +<p>It was the same impulse. But he did not recognize it. +He was not thinking of Morrison then. It may be said that, for +the first time since the final abandonment of the Samburan coal mine, +he had completely forgotten the late Morrison. It is true that +to a certain extent he had forgotten also where he was. Thus, +unchecked by any sort of self consciousness, Heyst walked up the central +passage.</p> +<p>Several of the women, by this time, had found anchorage here and +there among the occupied tables. They talked to the men, leaning +on their elbows, and suggesting funnily - if it hadn’t been for +the crimson sashes - in their white dresses an assembly of middle-aged +brides with free and easy manners and hoarse voices. The murmuring +noise of conversations carried on with some spirit filled Schomberg’s +concert-room. Nobody remarked Heyst’s movements; for indeed +he was not the only man on his legs there. He had been confronting +the girl for some time before she became aware of his presence. +She was looking down, very still, without colour, without glances, without +voice, without movement. It was only when Heyst addressed her +in his courteous tone that she raised her eyes.</p> +<p>“Excuse me,” he said in English, “but that horrible +female has done something to you. She has pinched you, hasn’t +she? I am sure she pinched you just now, when she stood by your +chair.”</p> +<p>The girl received this overture with the wide, motionless stare of +profound astonishment. Heyst, vexed with himself, suspected that +she did not understand what he said. One could not tell what nationality +these women were, except that they were of all sorts. But she +was astonished almost more by the near presence of the man himself, +by his largely bald head, by the white brow, the sunburnt cheeks, the +long, horizontal moustaches of crinkly bronze hair, by the kindly expression +of the man’s blue eyes looking into her own. He saw the +stony amazement in hers give way to a momentary alarm, which was succeeded +by an expression of resignation.</p> +<p>“I am sure she pinched your arm most cruelly,” he murmured, +rather disconcerted now at what he had done.</p> +<p>It was a great comfort to hear her say:</p> +<p>“It wouldn’t have been the first time. And suppose +she did - what are you going to do about it?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” he said with a faint, remote playfulness +in his tone which had not been heard in it lately, and which seemed +to catch her ear pleasantly. “I am grieved to say that I +don’t know. But can I do anything? What would you +wish me to do? Pray command me.”</p> +<p>Again, the greatest astonishment became visible in her face; for +she now perceived how different he was from the other men in the room. +He was as different from them as she was different from the other members +of the ladies’ orchestra.</p> +<p>“Command you?” she breathed, after a time, in a bewildered +tone. “Who are you?” she asked a little louder.</p> +<p>“I am staying in this hotel for a few days. I just dropped +in casually here. This outrage - ”</p> +<p>“Don’t you try to interfere,” she said so earnestly +that Heyst asked, in his faintly playful tone:</p> +<p>“Is it your wish that I should leave you?”</p> +<p>“I haven’t said that,” the girl answered. +“She pinched me because I didn’t get down here quick enough +- ”</p> +<p>“I can’t tell you how indignant I am - ” said Heyst. +“But since you are down here now,” he went on, with the +ease of a man of the world speaking to a young lady in a drawing-room, +“hadn’t we better sit down?”</p> +<p>She obeyed his inviting gesture, and they sat down on the nearest +chairs. They looked at each other across a little round table +with a surprised, open gaze, self-consciousness growing on them so slowly +that it was a long time before they averted their eyes; and very soon +they met again, temporarily, only to rebound, as it were. At last +they steadied in contact, but by that time, say some fifteen minutes +from the moment when they sat down, the “interval” came +to an end.</p> +<p>So much for their eyes. As to the conversation, it had been +perfectly insignificant because naturally they had nothing to say to +each other. Heyst had been interested by the girl’s physiognomy. +Its expression was neither simple nor yet very clear. It was not +distinguished - that could not be expected - but the features had more +fineness than those of any other feminine countenance he had ever had +the opportunity to observe so closely. There was in it something +indefinably audacious and infinitely miserable - because the temperament +and the existence of that girl were reflected in it. But her voice! +It seduced Heyst by its amazing quality. It was a voice fit to +utter the most exquisite things, a voice which would have made silly +chatter supportable and the roughest talk fascinating. Heyst drank +in its charm as one listens to the tone of some instrument without heeding +the tune.</p> +<p>“Do you sing as well as play?” he asked her abruptly.</p> +<p>“Never sang a note in my life,” she said, obviously surprised +by the irrelevant question; for they had not been discoursing of sweet +sounds. She was clearly unaware of her voice. “I don’t +remember that I ever had much reason to sing since I was little,” +she added.</p> +<p>That inelegant phrase, by the mere vibrating, warm nobility of the +sound, found its way into Heyst’s heart. His mind, cool, +alert, watched it sink there with a sort of vague concern at the absurdity +of the occupation, till it rested at the bottom, deep down, where our +unexpressed longings lie.</p> +<p>“You are English, of course?” he said.</p> +<p>“What do you think?” she answered in the most charming +accents. Then, as if thinking that it was her turn to place a +question: “Why do you always smile when you speak?”</p> +<p>It was enough to make anyone look grave, but her good faith was so +evident that Heyst recovered himself at once.</p> +<p>“It’s my unfortunate manner - ” he said with his +delicate, polished playfulness. “It is very objectionable +to you?”</p> +<p>She was very serious.</p> +<p>“No. I only noticed it. I haven’t come across +so many pleasant people as all that, in my life.”</p> +<p>“It’s certain that this woman who plays the piano is +infinitely more disagreeable than any cannibal I have ever had to do +with.”</p> +<p>“I believe you!” She shuddered. “How +did you come to have anything to do with cannibals?”</p> +<p>“It would be too long a tale,” said Heyst with a faint +smile. Heyst’s smiles were rather melancholy, and accorded +badly with his great moustaches, under which his mere playfulness lurked +as comfortable as a shy bird in its native thicket. “Much +too long. How did you get amongst this lot here?”</p> +<p>“Bad luck,” she answered briefly.</p> +<p>“No doubt, no doubt,” Heyst assented with slight nods. +Then, still indignant at the pinch which he had divined rather than +actually seen inflicted: “I say, couldn’t you defend yourself +somehow?”</p> +<p>She had risen already. The ladies of the orchestra were slowly +regaining their places. Some were already seated, idle stony-eyed, +before the music-stands. Heyst was standing up, too.</p> +<p>“They are too many for me,” she said.</p> +<p>These few words came out of the common experience of mankind; yet +by virtue of her voice, they thrilled Heyst like a revelation. +His feelings were in a state of confusion, but his mind was clear.</p> +<p>“That’s bad. But it isn’t actual ill-usage +that this girl is complaining of,” he thought lucidly after she +left him.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER TWO</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>That was how it began. How it was that it ended, as we know +it did end, is not so easy to state precisely. It is very clear +that Heyst was not indifferent, I won’t say to the girl, but to +the girl’s fate. He was the same man who had plunged after +the submerged Morrison whom he hardly knew otherwise than by sight and +through the usual gossip of the islands. But this was another +sort of plunge altogether, and likely to lead to a very different kind +of partnership.</p> +<p>Did he reflect at all? Probably. He was sufficiently +reflective. But if he did, it was with insufficient knowledge. +For there is no evidence that he paused at any time between the date +of that evening and the morning of the flight. Truth to say, Heyst +was not one of those men who pause much. Those dreamy spectators +of the world’s agitation are terrible once the desire to act gets +hold of them. They lower their heads and charge a wall with an +amazing serenity which nothing but an indisciplined imagination can +give.</p> +<p>He was not a fool. I suppose he knew - or at least he felt +- where this was leading him. But his complete inexperience gave +him the necessary audacity. The girl’s voice was charming +when she spoke to him of her miserable past, in simple terms, with a +sort of unconscious cynicism inherent in the truth of the ugly conditions +of poverty. And whether because he was humane or because her voice +included all the modulations of pathos, cheerfulness, and courage in +its compass, it was not disgust that the tale awakened in him, but the +sense of an immense sadness.</p> +<p>On a later evening, during the interval between the two parts of +the concert, the girl told Heyst about herself. She was almost +a child of the streets. Her father was a musician in the orchestras +of small theatres. Her mother ran away from him while she was +little, and the landladies of various poor lodging-houses had attended +casually to her abandoned childhood. It was never positive starvation +and absolute rags, but it was the hopeless grip of poverty all the time. +It was her father who taught her to play the violin. It seemed +that he used to get drunk sometimes, but without pleasure, and only +because he was unable to forget his fugitive wife. After he had +a paralytic stroke, falling over with a crash in the well of a music-hall +orchestra during the performance, she had joined the Zangiacomo company. +He was now in a home for incurables.</p> +<p>“And I am here,” she finished, “with no one to +care if I make a hole in the water the next chance I get or not.”</p> +<p>Heyst told her that he thought she could do a little better than +that, if it was only a question of getting out of the world. She +looked at him with special attention, and with a puzzled expression +which gave to her face an air of innocence.</p> +<p>This was during one of the “intervals” between the two +parts of the concert. She had come down that time without being +incited thereto by a pinch from the awful Zangiacomo woman. It +is difficult to suppose that she was seduced by the uncovered intellectual +forehead and the long reddish moustaches of her new friend. New +is not the right word. She had never had a friend before; and +the sensation of this friendliness going out to her was exciting by +its novelty alone. Besides, any man who did not resemble Schomberg +appeared for that very reason attractive. She was afraid of the +hotel-keeper, who, in the daytime, taking advantage of the fact that +she lived in the hotel itself, and not in the Pavilion with the other +“artists” prowled round her, mute, hungry, portentous behind +his great beard, or else assailed her in quiet corners and empty passages +with deep, mysterious murmurs from behind, which, not withstanding their +clear import, sounded horribly insane somehow.</p> +<p>The contrast of Heyst’s quiet, polished manner gave her special +delight and filled her with admiration. She had never seen anything +like that before. If she had, perhaps, known kindness in her life, +she had never met the forms of simple courtesy. She was interested +by it as a very novel experience, not very intelligible, but distinctly +pleasurable.</p> +<p>“I tell you they are too many for me,” she repeated, +sometimes recklessly, but more often shaking her head with ominous dejection.</p> +<p>She had, of course, no money at all. The quantities of “black +men” all about frightened her. She really had no definite +idea where she was on the surface of the globe. The orchestra +was generally taken from the steamer to some hotel, and kept shut up +there till it was time to go on board another steamer. She could +not remember the names she heard.</p> +<p>“How do you call this place again?” she used to ask Heyst.</p> +<p>“Sourabaya,” he would say distinctly, and would watch +the discouragement at the outlandish sound coming into her eyes, which +were fastened on his face.</p> +<p>He could not defend himself from compassion. He suggested that +she might go to the consul, but it was his conscience that dictated +this advice, not his conviction. She had never heard of the animal +or of its uses. A consul! What was it? Who was he? +What could he do? And when she learned that perhaps he could be +induced to send her home, her head dropped on her breast.</p> +<p>“What am I to do when I get there?” she murmured with +an intonation so just, with an accent so penetrating - the charm of +her voice did not fail her even in whispering - that Heyst seemed to +see the illusion of human fellowship on earth vanish before the naked +truth of her existence, and leave them both face to face in a moral +desert as arid as the sands of Sahara, without restful shade, without +refreshing water.</p> +<p>She leaned slightly over the little table, the same little table +at which they had sat when they first met each other; and with no other +memories but of the stones in the streets her childhood had known, in +the distress of the incoherent, confused, rudimentary impressions of +her travels inspiring her with a vague terror of the world she said +rapidly, as one speaks in desperation:</p> +<p>“<i>You</i> do something! You are a gentleman. +It wasn’t I who spoke to you first, was it? I didn’t +begin, did I? It was you who came along and spoke to me when I +was standing over there. What did you want to speak to me for? +I don’t care what it is, but you must do something.”</p> +<p>Her attitude was fierce and entreating at the same time - clamorous, +in fact though her voice had hardly risen above a breath. It was +clamorous enough to be noticed. Heyst, on purpose, laughed aloud. +She nearly choked with indignation at this brutal heartlessness.</p> +<p>“What did you mean, then, by saying ‘command me!’?” +she almost hissed.</p> +<p>Something hard in his mirthless stare, and a quiet final “All +right,” steadied her.</p> +<p>“I am not rich enough to buy you out,” he went on, speaking +with an extraordinary detached grin, “even if it were to be done; +but I can always steal you.”</p> +<p>She looked at him profoundly, as though these words had a hidden +and very complicated meaning.</p> +<p>“Get away now,” he said rapidly, “and try to smile +as you go.”</p> +<p>She obeyed with unexpected readiness; and as she had a set of very +good white teeth, the effect of the mechanical, ordered smile was joyous, +radiant. It astonished Heyst. No wonder, it flashed through +his mind, women can deceive men so completely. The faculty was +inherent in them; they seemed to be created with a special aptitude. +Here was a smile the origin of which was well known to him; and yet +it had conveyed a sensation of warmth, had given him a sort of ardour +to live which was very new to his experience.</p> +<p>By this time she was gone from the table, and had joined the other +“ladies of the orchestra.” They trooped towards the +platform, driven in truculently by the haughty mate of Zangiacomo, who +looked as though she were restraining herself with difficulty from punching +their backs. Zangiacomo followed, with his great, pendulous dyed +beard and short mess-jacket, with an aspect of hang-dog concentration +imparted by his drooping head and the uneasiness of his eyes, which +were set very close together. He climbed the steps last of all, +turned about, displaying his purple beard to the hall, and tapped with +his bow. Heyst winced in anticipation of the horrible racket. +It burst out immediately unabashed and awful. At the end of the +platform the woman at the piano, presenting her cruel profile, her head +tilted back, banged the keys without looking at the music.</p> +<p>Heyst could not stand the uproar for more than a minute. He +went out, his brain racked by the rhythm of some more or less Hungarian +dance music. The forests inhabited by the New Guinea cannibals +where he had encountered the most exciting of his earlier futile adventures +were silent. And this adventure, not in its execution, perhaps, +but in its nature, required even more nerve than anything he had faced +before. Walking among the paper lanterns suspended to trees he +remembered with regret the gloom and the dead stillness of the forests +at the back of Geelvink Bay, perhaps the wildest, the unsafest, the +most deadly spot on earth from which the sea can be seen. Oppressed +by his thoughts, he sought the obscurity and peace of his bedroom; but +they were not complete. The distant sounds of the concert reached +his ear, faint indeed, but still disturbing. Neither did he feel +very safe in there; for that sentiment depends not on extraneous circumstances +but on our inward conviction. He did not attempt to go to sleep; +he did not even unbutton the top button of his tunic. He sat in +a chair and mused. Formerly, in solitude and in silence, he had +been used to think clearly and sometimes even profoundly, seeing life +outside the flattering optical delusion of everlasting hope, of conventional +self-deceptions, of an ever-expected happiness. But now he was +troubled; a light veil seemed to hang before his mental vision; the +awakening of a tenderness, indistinct and confused as yet, towards an +unknown woman.</p> +<p>Gradually silence, a real silence, had established itself round him. +The concert was over; the audience had gone; the concert-hall was dark; +and even the Pavilion, where the ladies’ orchestra slept after +its noisy labours, showed not a gleam of light. Heyst suddenly +felt restless in all his limbs, as this reaction from the long immobility +would not be denied, he humoured it by passing quietly along the back +veranda and out into the grounds at the side of the house, into the +black shadows under the trees, where the extinguished paper lanterns +were gently swinging their globes like withered fruit.</p> +<p>He paced there to and fro for a long time, a calm, meditative ghost +in his white drill-suit, revolving in his head thoughts absolutely novel, +disquieting, and seductive; accustoming his mind to the contemplation +of his purpose, in order that by being faced steadily it should appear +praiseworthy and wise. For the use of reason is to justify the +obscure desires that move our conduct, impulses, passions, prejudices, +and follies, and also our fears.</p> +<p>He felt that he had engaged himself by a rash promise to an action +big with incalculable consequences. And then he asked himself +if the girl had understood what he meant. Who could tell? +He was assailed by all sorts of doubts. Raising his head, he perceived +something white flitting between the trees. It vanished almost +at once; but there could be no mistake. He was vexed at being +detected roaming like this in the middle of the night. Who could +that be? It never occurred to him that perhaps the girl, too, +would not be able to sleep. He advanced prudently. Then +he saw the white, phantom-like apparition again; and the next moment +all his doubts as to the state of her mind were laid at rest, because +he felt her clinging to him after the manner of supplicants all the +world over. Her whispers were so incoherent that he could not +understand anything; but this did not prevent him from being profoundly +moved. He had no illusions about her; but his sceptical mind was +dominated by the fulness of his heart.</p> +<p>“Calm yourself, calm yourself,” he murmured in her ear, +returning her clasp at first mechanically, and afterwards with a growing +appreciation of her distressed humanity. The heaving of her breast +and the trembling of all her limbs, in the closeness of his embrace, +seemed to enter his body, to infect his very heart. While she +was growing quieter in his arms, he was becoming more agitated, as if +there were only a fixed quantity of violent emotion on this earth. +The very night seemed more dumb, more still, and the immobility of the +vague, black shapes, surrounding him more perfect.</p> +<p>“It will be all right,” he tried to reassure her, with +a tone of conviction, speaking into her ear, and of necessity clasping +her more closely than before.</p> +<p>Either the words or the action had a very good effect. He heard +a light sigh of relief. She spoke with a calmed ardour.</p> +<p>“Oh, I knew it would be all right from the first time you spoke +to me! Yes, indeed, I knew directly you came up to me that evening. +I knew it would be all right, if you only cared to make it so; but of +course I could not tell if you meant it. ‘Command me,’ +you said. Funny thing for a man like you to say. Did you +really mean it? You weren’t making fun of me?”</p> +<p>He protested that he had been a serious person all his life.</p> +<p>“I believe you,” she said ardently. He was touched +by this declaration. “It’s the way you have of speaking +as if you were amused with people,” she went on. “But +I wasn’t deceived. I could see you were angry with that +beast of a woman. And you are clever. You spotted something +at once. You saw it in my face, eh? It isn’t a bad +face - say? You’ll never be sorry. Listen - I’m +not twenty yet. It’s the truth, and I can’t be so +bad looking, or else - I will tell you straight that I have been worried +and pestered by fellows like this before. I don’t know what +comes to them - ”</p> +<p>She was speaking hurriedly. She choked, and then exclaimed, +with an accent of despair:</p> +<p>“What is it? What’s the matter?”</p> +<p>Heyst had removed his arms from her suddenly, and had recoiled a +little. “Is it my fault? I didn’t even look +at them, I tell you straight. Never! Have I looked at you? +Tell me. It was you that began it.”</p> +<p>In truth, Heyst had shrunk from the idea of competition with fellows +unknown, with Schomberg the hotel-keeper. The vaporous white figure +before him swayed pitifully in the darkness. He felt ashamed of +his fastidiousness.</p> +<p>“I am afraid we have been detected,” he murmured. +“I think I saw somebody on the path between the house and the +bushes behind you.”</p> +<p>He had seen no one. It was a compassionate lie, if there ever +was one. His compassion was as genuine as his shrinking had been, +and in his judgement more honourable.</p> +<p>She didn’t turn her head. She was obviously relieved.</p> +<p>“Would it be that brute?” she breathed out, meaning Schomberg, +of course. “He’s getting too forward with me now. +What can you expect? Only this evening, after supper, he - but +I slipped away. You don’t mind him, do you? Why, I +could face him myself now that I know you care for me. A girl +can always put up a fight. You believe me? Only it isn’t +easy to stand up for yourself when you feel there’s nothing and +nobody at your back. There’s nothing so lonely in the world +as a girl who has got to look after herself. When I left poor +dad in that home - it was in the country, near a village - I came out +of the gates with seven shillings and threepence in my old purse, and +my railway ticket. I tramped a mile, and got into a train - ”</p> +<p>She broke off, and was silent for a moment.</p> +<p>“Don’t you throw me over now,” she went on. +“If you did, what should I do? I should have to live, to +be sure, because I’d be afraid to kill myself, but you would have +done a thousand times worse than killing a body. You told me you +had been always alone, you had never had a dog even. Well, then, +I won’t be in anybody’s way if I live with you - not even +a dog’s. And what else did you mean when you came up and +looked at me so close?”</p> +<p>“Close? Did I?” he murmured unstirring before her +in the profound darkness. “So close as that?”</p> +<p>She had an outbreak of anger and despair in subdued tones.</p> +<p>“Have you forgotten, then? What did you expect to find? +I know what sort of girl I am; but all the same I am not the sort that +men turn their backs on - and you ought to know it, unless you aren’t +made like the others. Oh, forgive me! You aren’t like +the others; you are like no one in the world I ever spoke to. +Don’t you care for me? Don’t you see - ?”</p> +<p>What he saw was that, white and spectral, she was putting out her +arms to him out of the black shadows like an appealing ghost. +He took her hands, and was affected, almost surprised, to find them +so warm, so real, so firm, so living in his grasp. He drew her +to him, and she dropped her head on his shoulder with a deep-sigh.</p> +<p>“I am dead tired,” she whispered plaintively.</p> +<p>He put his arms around her, and only by the convulsive movements +of her body became aware that she was sobbing without a sound. +Sustaining her, he lost himself in the profound silence of the night. +After a while she became still, and cried quietly. Then, suddenly, +as if waking up, she asked:</p> +<p>“You haven’t seen any more of that somebody you thought +was spying about?”</p> +<p>He started at her quick, sharp whisper, and answered that very likely +he had been mistaken.</p> +<p>“If it was anybody at all,” she reflected aloud, “it +wouldn’t have been anyone but that hotel woman - the landlord’s +wife.”</p> +<p>“Mrs. Schomberg,” Heyst said, surprised.</p> +<p>“Yes. Another one that can’t sleep o’ nights. +Why? Don’t you see why? Because, of course, she sees +what’s going on. That beast doesn’t even try to keep +it from her. If she had only the least bit of spirit! She +knows how I feel, too, only she’s too frightened even to look +him in the face, let alone open her mouth. He would tell her to +go hang herself.”</p> +<p>For some time Heyst said nothing. A public, active contest +with the hotel-keeper was not to be thought of. The idea was horrible. +Whispering gently to the girl, he tried to explain to her that as things +stood, an open withdrawal from the company would be probably opposed. +She listened to his explanation anxiously, from time to time pressing +the hand she had sought and got hold of in the dark.</p> +<p>“As I told you, I am not rich enough to buy you out so I shall +steal you as soon as I can arrange some means of getting away from here. +Meantime it would be fatal to be seen together at night. We mustn’t +give ourselves away. We had better part at once. I think +I was mistaken just now; but if, as you say, that poor Mrs. Schomberg +can’t sleep of nights, we must be more careful. She would +tell the fellow.”</p> +<p>The girl had disengaged herself from his loose hold while he talked, +and now stood free of him, but still clasping his hand firmly.</p> +<p>“Oh, no,” she said with perfect assurance. “I +tell you she daren’t open her mouth to him. And she isn’t +as silly as she looks. She wouldn’t give us away. +She knows a trick worth two of that. She’ll help - that’s +what she’ll do, if she dares do anything at all.”</p> +<p>“You seem to have a very clear view of the situation,” +said Heyst, and received a warm, lingering kiss for this commendation.</p> +<p>He discovered that to-part from her was not such an easy matter as +he had supposed it would be.</p> +<p>“Upon my word,” he said before they separated, “I +don’t even know your name.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you? They call me Alma. I don’t +know why. Silly name! Magdalen too. It doesn’t +matter; you can call me by whatever name you choose. Yes, you +give me a name. Think of one you would like the sound of - something +quite new. How I should like to forget everything that has gone +before, as one forgets a dream that’s done with, fright and all! +I would try.”</p> +<p>“Would you really?” he asked in a murmur. “But +that’s not forbidden. I understand that women easily forget +whatever in their past diminishes them in their eyes.”</p> +<p>“It’s your eyes that I was thinking of, for I’m +sure I’ve never wished to forget anything till you came up to +me that night and looked me through and through. I know I’m +not much account; but I know how to stand by a man. I stood by +father ever since I could understand. He wasn’t a bad chap. +Now that I can’t be of any use to him, I would just as soon forget +all that and make a fresh start. But these aren’t things +that I could talk to you about. What could I ever talk to you +about?”</p> +<p>“Don’t let it trouble you,” Heyst said. “Your +voice is enough. I am in love with it, whatever it says.”</p> +<p>She remained silent for a while, as if rendered breathless by this +quiet statement.</p> +<p>“Oh! I wanted to ask you - ”</p> +<p>He remembered that she probably did not know his name, and expected +the question to be put to him now; but after a moment of hesitation +she went on:</p> +<p>“Why was it that you told me to smile this evening in the concert-room +there - you remember?”</p> +<p>“I thought we were being observed. A smile is the best +of masks. Schomberg was at a table next but one to us, drinking +with some Dutch clerks from the town. No doubt he was watching +us - watching you, at least. That’s why I asked you to smile.”</p> +<p>“Ah, that’s why. It never came into my head!”</p> +<p>“And you did it very well, too - very readily, as if you had +understood my intention.”</p> +<p>“Readily!” she repeated. “Oh, I was ready +enough to smile then. That’s the truth. It was the +first time for years I may say that I felt disposed to smile. +I’ve not had many chances to smile in my life, I can tell you; +especially of late.”</p> +<p>“But you do it most charmingly - in a perfectly fascinating +way.”</p> +<p>He paused. She stood still, waiting for more with the stillness +of extreme delight, wishing to prolong the sensation.</p> +<p>“It astonished me,” he added. “It went as +straight to my heart as though you had smiled for the purpose of dazzling +me. I felt as if I had never seen a smile before in my life. +I thought of it after I left you. It made me restless.”</p> +<p>“It did all that?” came her voice, unsteady, gentle, +and incredulous.</p> +<p>“If you had not smiled as you did, perhaps I should not have +come out here tonight,” he said, with his playful earnestness +of tone. “It was your triumph.”</p> +<p>He felt her lips touch his lightly, and the next moment she was gone. +Her white dress gleamed in the distance, and then the opaque darkness +of the house seemed to swallow it. Heyst waited a little before +he went the same way, round the comer, up the steps of the veranda, +and into his room, where he lay down at last - not to sleep, but to +go over in his mind all that had been said at their meeting.</p> +<p>“It’s exactly true about that smile,” he thought. +There he had spoken the truth to her; and about her voice, too. +For the rest - what must be must be.</p> +<p>A great wave of heat passed over him. He turned on his back, +flung his arms crosswise on the broad, hard bed, and lay still, open-eyed +under the mosquito net, till daylight entered his room, brightened swiftly, +and turned to unfailing sunlight. He got up then, went to a small +looking-glass hanging on the wall, and stared at himself steadily. +It was not a new-born vanity which induced this long survey. He +felt so strange that he could not resist the suspicion of his personal +appearance having changed during the night. What he saw in the +glass, however, was the man he knew before. It was almost a disappointment +- a belittling of his recent experience. And then he smiled at +his naïveness; for, being over five and thirty years of age, he +ought to have known that in most cases the body is the unalterable mask +of the soul, which even death itself changes but little, till it is +put out of sight where no changes matter any more, either to our friends +or to our enemies.</p> +<p>Heyst was not conscious of either friends or of enemies. It +was the very essence of his life to be a solitary achievement, accomplished +not by hermit-like withdrawal with its silence and immobility, but by +a system of restless wandering, by the detachment of an impermanent +dweller amongst changing scenes. In this scheme he had perceived +the means of passing through life without suffering and almost without +a single care in the world - invulnerable because elusive.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER THREE</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>For fifteen years Heyst had wandered, invariably courteous and unapproachable, +and in return was generally considered a “queer chap.” +He had started off on these travels of his after the death of his father, +an expatriated Swede who died in London, dissatisfied with his country +and angry with all the world, which had instinctively rejected his wisdom.</p> +<p>Thinker, stylist, and man of the world in his time, the elder Heyst +had begun by coveting all the joys, those of the great and those of +the humble, those of the fools and those of the sages. For more +than sixty years he had dragged on this painful earth of ours the most +weary, the most uneasy soul that civilization had ever fashioned to +its ends of disillusion and regret. One could not refuse him a +measure of greatness, for he was unhappy in a way unknown to mediocre +souls. His mother Heyst had never known, but he kept his father’s +pale, distinguished face in affectionate memory. He remembered +him mainly in an ample blue dressing-gown in a large house of a quiet +London suburb. For three years, after leaving school at the age +of eighteen, he had lived with the elder Heyst, who was then writing +his last book. In this work, at the end of his life, he claimed +for mankind that right to absolute moral and intellectual liberty of +which he no longer believed them worthy.</p> +<p>Three years of such companionship at that plastic and impressionable +age were bound to leave in the boy a profound mistrust of life. +The young man learned to reflect, which is a destructive process, a +reckoning of the cost. It is not the clear-sighted who lead the +world. Great achievements are accomplished in a blessed, warm +mental fog, which the pitiless cold blasts of the father’s analysis +had blown away from the son.</p> +<p>“I’ll drift,” Heyst had said to himself deliberately.</p> +<p>He did not mean intellectually or sentimentally or morally. +He meant to drift altogether and literally, body and soul, like a detached +leaf drifting in the wind-currents under the immovable trees of a forest +glade; to drift without ever catching on to anything.</p> +<p>“This shall be my defence against life,” he had said +to himself with a sort of inward consciousness that for the son of his +father there was no other worthy alternative.</p> +<p>He became a waif and stray, austerely, from conviction, as others +do through drink, from vice, from some weakness of character - with +deliberation, as others do in despair. This, stripped of its facts, +had been Heyst’s life up to that disturbing night. Next +day, when he saw the girl called Alma, she managed to give him a glance +of frank tenderness, quick as lightning and leaving a profound impression, +a secret touch on the heart. It was in the grounds of the hotel, +about tiffin time, while the Ladies of the orchestra were strolling +back to their pavilion after rehearsal, or practice, or whatever they +called their morning musical exercises in the hall. Heyst, returning +from the town, where he had discovered that there would be difficulties +in the way of getting away at once, was crossing the compound, disappointed +and worried. He had walked almost unwittingly into the straggling +group of Zangiacomo’s performers. It was a shock to him, +on coming out of his brown study, to find the girl so near to him, as +if one waking suddenly should see the figure of his dream turned into +flesh and blood. She did not raise her shapely head, but her glance +was no dream thing. It was real, the most real impression of his +detached existence - so far.</p> +<p>Heyst had not acknowledged it in any way, though it seemed to him +impossible that its effect on him should not be visible to anyone who +happened to be looking on. And there were several men on the veranda, +steady customers of Schomberg’s table d’hôte, gazing +in his direction - at the ladies of the orchestra, in fact. Heyst’s +dread arose, not out of shame or timidity, but from his fastidiousness. +On getting amongst them, however, he noticed no signs of interest or +astonishment in their faces, any more than if they had been blind men. +Even Schomberg himself, who had to make way for him at the top of the +stairs, was completely unperturbed, and continued the conversation he +was carrying on with a client.</p> +<p>Schomberg, indeed, had observed “that Swede” talking +with the girl in the intervals. A crony of his had nudged him; +and he had thought that it was so much the better; the silly fellow +would keep everybody else off. He was rather pleased than otherwise +and watched them out of the corner of his eye with a malicious enjoyment +of the situation - a sort of Satanic glee. For he had little doubt +of his personal fascination, and still less of his power to get hold +of the girl, who seemed too ignorant to know how to help herself, and +who was worse than friendless, since she had for some reason incurred +the animosity of Mrs. Zangiacomo, a woman with no conscience. +The aversion she showed him as far as she dared (for it is not always +safe for the helpless to display the delicacy of their sentiments), +Schomberg pardoned on the score of feminine conventional silliness. +He had told Alma, as an argument, that she was a clever enough girl +to see that she could do no better than to put her trust in a man of +substance, in the prime of life, who knew his way about. But for +the excited trembling of his voice, and the extraordinary way in which +his eyes seemed to be starting out of his crimson, hirsute countenance, +such speeches had every character of calm, unselfish advice - which, +after the manner of lovers, passed easily into sanguine plans for the +future.</p> +<p>“We’ll soon get rid of the old woman,” he whispered +to her hurriedly, with panting ferocity. “Hang her! +I’ve never cared for her. The climate don’t suit her; +I shall tell her to go to her people in Europe. She will have +to go, too! I will see to it. <i>Eins</i>, <i>zwei</i>, +march! And then we shall sell this hotel and start another somewhere +else.”</p> +<p>He assured her that he didn’t care what he did for her sake; +and it was true. Forty-five is the age of recklessness for many +men, as if in defiance of the decay and death waiting with open arms +in the sinister valley at the bottom of the inevitable hill. Her +shrinking form, her downcast eyes, when she had to listen to him, cornered +at the end of an empty corridor, he regarded as signs of submission +to the overpowering force of his will, the recognition of his personal +fascinations. For every age is fed on illusions, lest men should +renounce life early and the human race come to an end.</p> +<p>It’s easy to imagine Schomberg’s humiliation, his shocked +fury, when he discovered that the girl who had for weeks resisted his +attacks, his prayers, and his fiercest protestations, had been snatched +from under his nose by “that Swede,” apparently without +any trouble worth speaking of. He refused to believe the fact. +He would have it, at first, that the Zangiacomos, for some unfathomable +reason, had played him a scurvy trick, but when no further doubt was +possible, he changed his view of Heyst. The despised Swede became +for Schomberg the deepest, the most dangerous, the most hateful of scoundrels. +He could not believe that the creature he had coveted with so much force +and with so little effect, was in reality tender, docile to her impulse, +and had almost offered herself to Heyst without a sense of guilt, in +a desire of safety, and from a profound need of placing her trust where +her woman’s instinct guided her ignorance. Nothing would +serve Schomberg but that she must have been circumvented by some occult +exercise of force or craft, by the laying of some subtle trap. +His wounded vanity wondered ceaselessly at the means “that Swede” +had employed to seduce her away from a man like him - Schomberg - as +though those means were bound to have been extraordinary, unheard of, +inconceivable. He slapped his forehead openly before his customers; +he would sit brooding in silence or else would burst out unexpectedly +declaiming against Heyst without measure, discretion, or prudence, with +swollen features and an affectation of outraged virtue which could not +have deceived the most childlike of moralists for a moment - and greatly +amused his audience.</p> +<p>It became a recognized entertainment to go and hear his abuse of +Heyst, while sipping iced drinks on the veranda of the hotel. +It was, in a manner, a more successful draw than the Zangiacomo concerts +had ever been - intervals and all. There was never any difficulty +in starting the performer off. Anybody could do it, by almost +any distant allusion. As likely as not he would start his endless +denunciations in the very billiard-room where Mrs. Schomberg sat enthroned +as usual, swallowing her sobs, concealing her tortures of abject humiliation +and terror under her stupid, set, everlasting grin, which, having been +provided for her by nature, was an excellent mask, in as much as nothing +- not even death itself, perhaps - could tear it away.</p> +<p>But nothing lasts in this world, at least without changing its physiognomy. +So, after a few weeks, Schomberg regained his outward calm, as if his +indignation had dried up within him. And it was time. He +was becoming a bore with his inability to talk of anything else but +Heyst’s unfitness to be at large, Heyst’s wickedness, his +wiles, his astuteness, and his criminality. Schomberg no longer +pretended to despise him. He could not have done it. After +what had happened he could not pretend, even to himself. But his +bottled-up indignation was fermenting venomously. At the time +of his immoderate loquacity one of his customers, an elderly man, had +remarked one evening:</p> +<p>“If that ass keeps on like this, he will end by going crazy.”</p> +<p>And this belief was less than half wrong. Schomberg had Heyst +on the brain. Even the unsatisfactory state of his affairs, which +had never been so unpromising since he came out East directly after +the Franco-Prussian War, he referred to some subtly noxious influence +of Heyst. It seemed to him that he could never be himself again +till he had got even with that artful Swede. He was ready to swear +that Heyst had ruined his life. The girl so unfairly, craftily, +basely decoyed away would have inspired him to success in a new start. +Obviously Mrs. Schomberg, whom he terrified by savagely silent moods +combined with underhand, poisoned glances, could give him no inspiration. +He had grown generally neglectful, but with a partiality for reckless +expedients, as if he did not care when and how his career as a hotel-keeper +was to be brought to an end. This demoralized state accounted +for what Davidson had observed on his last visit to the Schomberg establishment, +some two months after Heyst’s secret departure with the girl to +the solitude of Samburan.</p> +<p>The Schomberg of a few years ago - the Schomberg of the Bangkok days, +for instance, when he started the first of his famed table d’hôte +dinners - would never have risked anything of the sort. His genius +ran to catering, “white man for white men” and to the inventing, +elaborating, and retailing of scandalous gossip with asinine unction +and impudent delight. But now his mind was perverted by the pangs +of wounded vanity and of thwarted passion. In this state of moral +weakness Schomberg allowed himself to be corrupted.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER FOUR</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The business was done by a guest who arrived one fine morning by +mail-boat - immediately from Celebes, having boarded her in Macassar, +but generally, Schomberg understood, from up China Sea way; a wanderer +clearly, even as Heyst was, but not alone and of quite another kind.</p> +<p>Schomberg, looking up from the stern-sheets of his steam-launch, +which he used for boarding passenger ships on arrival, discovered a +dark sunken stare plunging down on him over the rail of the first-class +part of the deck. He was no great judge of physiognomy. +Human beings, for him, were either the objects of scandalous gossip +or else recipients of narrow strips of paper, with proper bill-heads +stating the name of his hotel - “W. Schomberg, proprietor, accounts +settled weekly.”</p> +<p>So in the clean-shaven, extremely thin face hanging over the mail-boat’s +rail Schomberg saw only the face of a possible “account.” +The steam-launches of other hotels were also alongside, but he obtained +the preference.</p> +<p>“You are Mr. Schomberg, aren’t you?” the face asked +quite unexpectedly.</p> +<p>“I am at your service,” he answered from below; for business +is business, and its forms and formulas must be observed, even if one’s +manly bosom is tortured by that dull rage which succeeds the fury of +baffled passion, like the glow of embers after a fierce blaze.</p> +<p>Presently the possessor of the handsome but emaciated face was seated +beside Schomberg in the stern-sheets of the launch. His body was +long and loose-jointed, his slender fingers, intertwined, clasped the +leg resting on the knee, as he lolled back in a careless yet tense attitude. +On the other side of Schomberg sat another passenger, who was introduced +by the clean-shaven man as -</p> +<p>“My secretary. He must have the room next to mine.”</p> +<p>“We can manage that easily for you.”</p> +<p>Schomberg steered with dignity, staring straight ahead, but very +much interested by these two promising “accounts.” +Their belongings, a couple of large leather trunks browned by age and +a few smaller packages, were piled up in the bows. A third individual +- a nondescript, hairy creature - had modestly made his way forward +and had perched himself on the luggage. The lower part of his +physiognomy was over-developed; his narrow and low forehead, unintelligently +furrowed by horizontal wrinkles, surmounted wildly hirsute cheeks and +a flat nose with wide, baboon-like nostrils. There was something +equivocal in the appearance of his shaggy, hair-smothered humanity. +He, too, seemed to be a follower of the clean-shaven man, and apparently +had travelled on deck with native passengers, sleeping under the awnings. +His broad, squat frame denoted great strength. Grasping the gunwales +of the launch, he displayed a pair of remarkably long arms, terminating +in thick, brown hairy paws of simian aspect.</p> +<p>“What shall we do with the fellow of mine?” the chief +of the party asked Schomberg. “There must be a boarding-house +somewhere near the port - some grog-shop where they could let him have +a mat to sleep on?”</p> +<p>Schomberg said there was a place kept by a Portuguese half-caste.</p> +<p>“A servant of yours?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Well, he hangs on to me. He is an alligator-hunter. +I picked him up in Colombia, you know. Ever been in Colombia?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Schomberg, very much surprised. “An +alligator-hunter? Funny trade! Are you coming from Colombia, +then?”</p> +<p>“Yes, but I have been coming for a long time. I come +from a good many places. I am travelling west, you see.”</p> +<p>“For sport, perhaps?” suggested Schomberg.</p> +<p>“Yes. Sort of sport. What do you say to chasing +the sun?”</p> +<p>“I see - a gentleman at large,” said Schomberg, watching +a sailing canoe about to cross his bow, and ready to clear it by a touch +of the helm.</p> +<p>The other passenger made himself heard suddenly.</p> +<p>“Hang these native craft! They always get in the way.”</p> +<p>He was a muscular, short man with eyes that gleamed and blinked, +a harsh voice, and a round, toneless, pock-marked face ornamented by +a thin, dishevelled moustache, sticking out quaintly under the tip of +a rigid nose. Schomberg made the reflection that there was nothing +secretarial about him. Both he and his long, lank principal wore +the usual white suit of the tropics, cork helmets, pipe-clayed white +shoes - all correct. The hairy nondescript creature perched on +their luggage in the bow had a check shirt and blue dungaree trousers. +He gazed in their direction from forward in an expectant, trained-animal +manner.</p> +<p>“You spoke to me first,” said Schomberg in his manly +tones. “You were acquainted with my name. Where did +you hear of me, gentlemen, may I ask?”</p> +<p>“In Manila,” answered the gentleman at large, readily. +“From a man with whom I had a game of cards one evening in the +Hotel Castille.”</p> +<p>“What man? I’ve no friends in Manila that I know +of,” wondered Schomberg with a severe frown.</p> +<p>“I can’t tell you his name. I’ve clean forgotten +it; but don’t you worry. He was anything but a friend of +yours. He called you all the names he could think of. He +said you set a lot of scandal going about him once, somewhere - in Bangkok, +I think. Yes, that’s it. You were running a table +d’hôte in Bangkok at one time, weren’t you?”</p> +<p>Schomberg, astounded by the turn of the information, could only throw +out his chest more and exaggerate his austere Lieutenant-of-the-Reserve +manner. A table d’hôte? Yes, certainly. +He always - for the sake of white men. And here in this place, +too? Yes, in this place, too.</p> +<p>“That’s all right, then.” The stranger turned +his black, cavernous, mesmerizing glance away from the bearded Schomberg, +who sat gripping the brass tiller in a sweating palm. “Many +people in the evening at your place?”</p> +<p>Schomberg had recovered somewhat.</p> +<p>“Twenty covers or so, take one day with another,” he +answered feelingly, as befitted a subject on which he was sensitive. +“Ought to be more, if only people would see that it’s for +their own good. Precious little profit I get out of it. +You are partial to tables d’hôte, gentlemen?”</p> +<p>The new guest made answer that he liked a hotel where one could find +some local people in the evening. It was infernally dull otherwise. +The secretary, in sign of approval, emitted a grunt of astonishing ferocity, +as if proposing to himself to eat the local people. All this sounded +like a longish stay, thought Schomberg, satisfied under his grave air; +till, remembering the girl snatched away from him by the last guest +who had made a prolonged stay in his hotel, he ground his teeth so audibly +that the other two looked at him in wonder. The momentary convulsion +of his florid physiognomy seemed to strike them dumb. They exchanged +a quick glance. Presently the clean-shaven man fired out another +question in his curt, unceremonious manner:</p> +<p>“You have no women in your hotel, eh?”</p> +<p>“Women!” Schomberg exclaimed indignantly, but also as +if a little frightened. “What on earth do you mean by women? +What women? There’s Mrs. Schomberg, of course,” he +added, suddenly appeased, with lofty indifference.</p> +<p>“If she knows how to keep her place, then it will do. +I can’t stand women near me. They give me the horrors,” +declared the other. “They are a perfect curse!”</p> +<p>During this outburst the secretary wore a savage grin. The +chief guest closed his sunken eyes, as if exhausted, and leaned the +back of his head against the stanchion of the awning. In this +pose, his long, feminine eyelashes were very noticeable, and his regular +features, sharp line of the jaw, and well-cut chin were brought into +prominence, giving him a used-up, weary, depraved distinction. +He did not open his eyes till the steam-launch touched the quay. +Then he and the other man got ashore quickly, entered a carriage, and +drove away to the hotel, leaving Schomberg to look after their luggage +and take care of their strange companion. The latter, looking +more like a performing bear abandoned by his show men than a human being, +followed all Schomberg’s movements step by step, close behind +his back, muttering to himself in a language that sounded like some +sort of uncouth Spanish. The hotel-keeper felt uncomfortable till +at last he got rid of him at an obscure den where a very clean, portly +Portuguese half-caste, standing serenely in the doorway, seemed to understand +exactly how to deal with clients of every kind. He took from the +creature the strapped bundle it had been hugging closely through all +its peregrinations in that strange town, and cut short Schomberg’s +attempts at explanation by a most confident -</p> +<p>“I comprehend very well, sir.”</p> +<p>“It’s more than I do,” thought Schomberg, going +away thankful at being relieved of the alligator-hunter’s company. +He wondered what these fellows were, without being able to form a guess +of sufficient probability. Their names he learned that very day +by direct inquiry “to enter in my books,” he explained in +his formal military manner, chest thrown out, beard very much in evidence.</p> +<p>The shaven man, sprawling in a long chair, with his air of withered +youth, raised his eyes languidly.</p> +<p>“My name? Oh, plain Mr. Jones - put that down - a gentleman +at large. And this is Ricardo.” The pock-marked man, +lying prostrate in another long chair, made a grimace, as if something +had tickled the end of his nose, but did not come out of his supineness. +“Martin Ricardo, secretary. You don’t want any more +of our history, do you? Eh, what? Occupation? Put +down, well - tourists. We’ve been called harder names before +now; it won’t hurt our feelings. And that fellow of mine +- where did you tuck him away? Oh, he will be all right. +When he wants anything he’ll take it. He’s Peter. +Citizen of Colombia. Peter, Pedro - I don’t know that he +ever had any other name. Pedro, alligator hunter. Oh, yes +- I’ll pay his board with the half-caste. Can’t help +myself. He’s so confoundedly devoted to me that if I were +to give him the sack he would be at my throat. Shall I tell you +how I killed his brother in the wilds of Colombia? Well, perhaps +some other time - it’s a rather long story. What I shall +always regret is that I didn’t kill him, too. I could have +done it without any extra trouble then; now it’s too late. +Great nuisance; but he’s useful sometimes. I hope you are +not going to put all this in your book?”</p> +<p>The offhand, hard manner and the contemptuous tone of “plain +Mr. Jones” disconcerted Schomberg utterly. He had never +been spoken to like this in his life. He shook his head in silence +and withdrew, not exactly scared - though he was in reality of a timid +disposition under his manly exterior - but distinctly mystified and +impressed.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER FIVE</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Three weeks later, after putting his cash-box away in the safe which +filled with its iron bulk a corner of their room, Schomberg turned towards +his wife, but without looking at her exactly, and said:</p> +<p>“I must get rid of these two. It won’t do!”</p> +<p>Mrs. Schomberg had entertained that very opinion from the first; +but she had been broken years ago into keeping her opinions to herself. +Sitting in her night attire in the light of a single candle, she was +careful not to make a sound, knowing from experience that her very assent +would be resented. With her eyes she followed the figure of Schomberg, +clad in his sleeping suit, and moving restlessly about the room.</p> +<p>He never glanced her way, for the reason that Mrs. Schomberg, in +her night attire, looked the most unattractive object in existence - +miserable, insignificant, faded, crushed, old. And the contrast +with the feminine form he had ever in his mind’s eye made his +wife’s appearance painful to his aesthetic sense.</p> +<p>Schomberg walked about swearing and fuming for the purpose of screwing +his courage up to the sticking point.</p> +<p>“Hang me if I ought not to go now, at once, this minute, into +his bedroom, and tell him to be off - him and that secretary of his +- early in the morning. I don’t mind a round game of cards, +but to make a decoy of my table d’hôte - my blood boils! +He came here because some lying rascal in Manila told him I kept a table +d’hôte.”</p> +<p>He said these things, not for Mrs. Schomberg’s information, +but simply thinking aloud, and trying to work his fury up to a point +where it would give him courage enough to face “plain Mr. Jones.”</p> +<p>“Impudent overbearing, swindling sharper,” he went on. +“I have a good mind to - ”</p> +<p>He was beside himself in his lurid, heavy, Teutonic manner, so unlike +the picturesque, lively rage of the Latin races; and though his eyes +strayed about irresolutely, yet his swollen, angry features awakened +in the miserable woman over whom he had been tyrannizing for years a +fear for his precious carcass, since the poor creature had nothing else +but that to hold on to in the world. She knew him well; but she +did not know him altogether. The last thing a woman will consent +to discover in a man whom she loves, or on whom she simply depends, +is want of courage. And, timid in her comer, she ventured to say +pressingly:</p> +<p>“Be careful, Wilhelm! Remember the knives and revolvers +in their trunks.”</p> +<p>In guise of thanks for that anxious reminder, he swore horribly in +the direction of her shrinking person. In her scanty nightdress, +and barefooted, she recalled a mediæval penitent being reproved +for her sins in blasphemous terms. Those lethal weapons were always +present to Schomberg’s mind. Personally, he had never seen +them. His part, ten days after his guests’ arrival, had +been to lounge in manly, careless attitudes on the veranda - keeping +watch - while Mrs. Schomberg, provided with a bunch of assorted keys, +her discoloured teeth chattering and her globular eyes absolutely idiotic +with fright, was “going through” the luggage of these strange +clients. Her terrible Wilhelm had insisted on it.</p> +<p>“I’ll be on the look-out, I tell you,” he said. +“I shall give you a whistle when I see them coming back. +You couldn’t whistle. And if he were to catch you at it, +and chuck you out by the scruff of the neck, it wouldn’t hurt +you much; but he won’t touch a woman. Not he! He has +told me so. Affected beast. I must find out something about +their little game, and so there’s an end of it. Go in! +Go now! Quick march!”</p> +<p>It had been an awful job; but she did go in, because she was much +more afraid of Schomberg than of any possible consequences of the act. +Her greatest concern was lest no key of the bunch he had provided her +with should fit the locks. It would have been such a disappointment +for Wilhelm. However, the trunks, she found, had been left open; +but her investigation did not last long. She was frightened of +firearms, and generally of all weapons, not from personal cowardice, +but as some women are, almost superstitiously, from an abstract horror +of violence and murder. She was out again on the veranda long +before Wilhelm had any occasion for a warning whistle. The instinctive, +motiveless fear being the most difficult to overcome, nothing could +induce her to return to her investigations, neither threatening growls +nor ferocious hisses, nor yet a poke or two in the ribs.</p> +<p>“Stupid female!” muttered the hotel-keeper, perturbed +by the notion of that armoury in one of his bedrooms. This was +from no abstract sentiment, with him it was constitutional. “Get +out of my sight,” he snarled. “Go and dress yourself +for the table d’hôte.”</p> +<p>Left to himself, Schomberg had meditated. What the devil did +this mean? His thinking processes were sluggish and spasmodic; +but suddenly the truth came to him.</p> +<p>“By heavens, they are desperadoes!” he thought.</p> +<p>Just then he beheld “plain Mr. Jones” and his secretary +with the ambiguous name of Ricardo entering the grounds of the hotel. +They had been down to the port on some business, and now were returning; +Mr. Jones lank, spare, opening his long legs with angular regularity +like a pair of compasses, the other stepping out briskly by his side. +Conviction entered Schomberg’s heart. They <i>were</i> two +desperadoes - no doubt about it. But as the funk which he experienced +was merely a general sensation, he managed to put on his most severe +Officer-of-the-Reserve manner, long before they had closed with him.</p> +<p>“Good morning, gentlemen.”</p> +<p>Being answered with derisive civility, he became confirmed in his +sudden conviction of their desperate character. The way Mr. Jones +turned his hollow eyes on one, like an incurious spectre, and the way +the other, when addressed, suddenly retracted his lips and exhibited +his teeth without looking round - here was evidence enough to settle +that point. Desperadoes! They passed through the billiard-room, +inscrutably mysterious, to the back of the house, to join their violated +trunks.</p> +<p>“Tiffin bell will ring in five minutes, gentlemen.” +Schomberg called after them, exaggerating the deep manliness of his +tone.</p> +<p>He had managed to upset himself very much. He expected to see +them come back infuriated and begin to bully him with an odious lack +of restraint. Desperadoes! However they didn’t; they +had not noticed anything unusual about their trunks and Schomberg recovered +his composure and said to himself that he must get rid of this deadly +incubus as soon as practicable. They couldn’t possibly want +to stay very long; this was not the town - the colony - for desperate +characters. He shrank from action. He dreaded any kind of +disturbance - “fracas” he called it - in his hotel. +Such things were not good for business. Of course, sometimes one +had to have a “fracas;” but it had been a comparatively +trifling task to seize the frail Zangiacomo - whose bones were no larger +than a chicken’s - round the ribs, lift him up bodily, dash him +to the ground, and fall on him. It had been easy. The wretched, +hook-nosed creature lay without movement, buried under its purple beard.</p> +<p>Suddenly, remembering the occasion of that “fracas,” +Schomberg groaned with the pain as of a hot coal under his breastbone, +and gave himself up to desolation. Ah, if he only had that girl +with him he would have been masterful and resolute and fearless - fight +twenty desperadoes - care for nobody on earth! Whereas the possession +of Mrs. Schomberg was no incitement to a display of manly virtues. +Instead of caring for no one, he felt that he cared for nothing. +Life was a hollow sham; he wasn’t going to risk a shot through +his lungs or his liver in order to preserve its integrity. It +had no savour - damn it!</p> +<p>In his state of moral decomposition, Schomberg, master as he was +of the art of hotel-keeping, and careful of giving no occasion for criticism +to the powers regulating that branch of human activity, let things take +their course; though he saw very well where that course was tending. +It began first with a game or two after dinner - for the drinks, apparently +- with some lingering customer, at one of the little tables ranged against +the walls of the billiard-room. Schomberg detected the meaning +of it at once. “That’s what it was! This was +what they were! And, moving about restlessly (at that time his +morose silent period had set in), he cast sidelong looks at the game; +but he said nothing. It was not worth while having a row with +men who were so overbearing. Even when money appeared in connection +with these postprandial games, into which more and more people were +being drawn, he still refrained from raising the question; he was reluctant +to draw unduly the attention of “plain Mr. Jones” and of +the equivocal Ricardo, to his person. One evening, however, after +the public rooms of the hotel had become empty, Schomberg made an attempt +to grapple with the problem in an indirect way.</p> +<p>In a distant corner the tired China boy dozed on his heels, his back +against the wall. Mrs. Schomberg had disappeared, as usual, between +ten and eleven. Schomberg walked about slowly in and out of the +room and the veranda, thoughtful, waiting for his two guests to go to +bed. Then suddenly he approached them, militarily, his chest thrown +out, his voice curt and soldierly.</p> +<p>“Hot night, gentlemen.”</p> +<p>Mr Jones, lolling back idly in a chair, looked up. Ricardo, +as idle, but more upright, made no sign.</p> +<p>“Won’t you have a drink with me before retiring?” +went on Schomberg, sitting down by the little table.</p> +<p>“By all means,” said Mr. Jones lazily.</p> +<p>Ricardo showed his teeth in a strange, quick grin. Schomberg +felt painfully how difficult it was to get in touch with these men, +both so quiet, so deliberate, so menacingly unceremonious. He +ordered the Chinaman to bring in the drinks. His purpose was to +discover how long these guests intended to stay. Ricardo displayed +no conversational vein, but Mr. Jones appeared communicative enough. +His voice somehow matched his sunken eyes. It was hollow without +being in the least mournful; it sounded distant, uninterested, as though +he were speaking from the bottom of a well. Schomberg learned +that he would have the privilege of lodging and boarding these gentlemen +for at least a month more. He could not conceal his discomfiture +at this piece of news.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter? Don’t you like to have +people in your house?” asked plain Mr. Jones languidly. +“I should have thought the owner of a hotel would be pleased.”</p> +<p>He lifted his delicate and beautifully pencilled eyebrows. +Schomberg muttered something about the locality being dull and uninteresting +to travellers - nothing going on - too quiet altogether, but he only +provoked the declaration that quiet had its charm sometimes, and even +dullness was welcome as a change.</p> +<p>“We haven’t had time to be dull for the last three years,” +added plain Mr. Jones, his eyes fixed darkly on Schomberg whom he further +more invited to have another drink, this time with him, and not to worry +himself about things he did not understand; and especially not to be +inhospitable - which in a hotel-keeper is highly unprofessional.</p> +<p>“I don’t understand,” grumbled Schomberg. +“Oh, yes, I understand perfectly well. I - ”</p> +<p>“You are frightened,” interrupted Mr. Jones. “What +is the matter?”</p> +<p>“I don’t want any scandal in my place. That’s +what’s the matter.”</p> +<p>Schomberg tried to face the situation bravely, but that steady, black +stare affected him. And when he glanced aside uncomfortably, he +met Ricardo’s grin uncovering a lot of teeth, though the man seemed +absorbed in his thoughts all the time.</p> +<p>“And, moreover,” went on Mr. Jones in that distant tone +of his, “you can’t help yourself. Here we are and +here we stay. Would you try to put us out? I dare say you +could do it; but you couldn’t do it without getting hurt - very +badly hurt. We can promise him that, can’t we, Martin?”</p> +<p>The secretary retracted his lips and looked up sharply at Schomberg, +as if only too anxious to leap upon him with teeth and claws.</p> +<p>Schomberg managed to produce a deep laugh.</p> +<p>“Ha! Ha! Ha!”</p> +<p>Mr Jones closed his eyes wearily, as if the light hurt them, and +looked remarkably like a corpse for a moment. This was bad enough; +but when he opened them again, it was almost a worse trial for Schomberg’s +nerves. The spectral intensity of that glance, fixed on the hotel-keeper +(and this was most frightful) without any definite expression, seemed +to dissolve the last grain of resolution in his character.</p> +<p>“You don’t think, by any chance, that you have to do +with ordinary people, do you?” inquired Mr. Jones, in his lifeless +manner, which seemed to imply some sort of menace from beyond the grave.</p> +<p>“He’s a gentleman,” testified Martin Ricardo with +a sudden snap of the lips, after which his moustaches stirred by themselves +in an odd, feline manner.</p> +<p>“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of that,” said plain Mr. +Jones, while Schomberg, dumb and planted heavily in his chair looked +from one to the other, leaning forward a little. “Of course +I am that; but Ricardo attaches too much importance to a social advantage. +What I mean, for instance, is that he, quiet and inoffensive as you +see him sitting here, would think nothing of setting fire to this house +of entertainment of yours. It would blaze like a box of matches. +Think of that! It wouldn’t advance your affairs much, would +it? - whatever happened to us.”</p> +<p>“Come, come gentlemen,” remonstrated Schomberg, in a +murmur. “This is very wild talk!”</p> +<p>“And you have been used to deal with tame people, haven’t +you? But we aren’t tame. We once kept a whole angry +town at bay for two days, and then we got away with our plunder. +It was in Venezuela. Ask Martin here - he can tell you.”</p> +<p>Instinctively Schomberg looked at Ricardo, who only passed the tip +of his tongue over his lips with an uncanny sort of gusto, but did not +offer to begin.</p> +<p>“Well, perhaps it would be a rather long story,” Mr. +Jones conceded after a short silence.</p> +<p>“I have no desire to hear it, I am sure,” said Schomberg. +“This isn’t Venezuela. You wouldn’t get away +from here like that. But all this is silly talk of the worst sort. +Do you mean to say you would make deadly trouble for the sake of a few +guilders that you and that other” - eyeing Ricardo suspiciously, +as one would look at a strange animal - “gentleman can win of +an evening? Isn’t as if my customers were a lot of rich +men with pockets full of cash. I wonder you take so much trouble +and risk for so little money.”</p> +<p>Schomberg’s argument was met by Mr. Jones’s statement +that one must do something to kill time. Killing time was not +forbidden. For the rest, being in a communicative mood, Mr. Jones +said languidly and in a voice indifferent, as if issuing from a tomb, +that he depended on himself, as if the world were still one great, wild +jungle without law. Martin was something like that, too - for +reasons of his own.</p> +<p>All these statements Ricardo confirmed by short, inhuman grins. +Schomberg lowered his eyes, for the sight of these two men intimidated +him; but he was losing patience.</p> +<p>“Of course, I could see at once that you were two desperate +characters - something like what you say. But what would you think +if I told you that I am pretty near as desperate as you two gentlemen? +‘Here’s that Schomberg has an easy time running his hotel,’ +people think; and yet it seems to me I would just as soon let you rip +me open and burn the whole show as not. There!”</p> +<p>A low whistle was heard. It came from Ricardo, and was derisive. +Schomberg, breathing heavily, looked on the floor. He was really +desperate. Mr. Jones remained languidly sceptical.</p> +<p>“Tut, tut! You have a tolerable business. You are +perfectly tame; you - ” He paused, then added in a tone +of disgust: “You have a wife.”</p> +<p>Schomberg tapped the floor angrily with his foot and uttered an indistinct, +laughing curse.</p> +<p>“What do you mean by flinging that damned trouble at my head?” +he cried. “I wish you would carry her off with you some +where to the devil! I wouldn’t run after you.”</p> +<p>The unexpected outburst affected Mr. Jones strangely. He had +a horrified recoil, chair and all, as if Schomberg had thrust a wriggling +viper in his face.</p> +<p>“What’s this infernal nonsense?” he muttered thickly. +“What do you mean? How dare you?”</p> +<p>Ricardo chuckled audibly.</p> +<p>“I tell you I am desperate,” Schomberg repeated. +“I am as desperate as any man ever was. I don’t care +a hang what happens to me!”</p> +<p>“Well, then” - Mr. Jones began to speak with a quietly +threatening effect, as if the common words of daily use had some other +deadly meaning to his mind - “well, then, why should you make +yourself ridiculously disagreeable to us? If you don’t care, +as you say, you might just as well let us have the key of that music-shed +of yours for a quiet game; a modest bank - a dozen candles or so. +It would be greatly appreciated by your clients, as far as I can judge +from the way they betted on a game of écarté I had with +that fair, baby-faced man - what’s his name? They just yearn +for a modest bank. And I am afraid Martin here would take it badly +if you objected; but of course you won’t. Think of the calls +for drinks!”</p> +<p>Schomberg, raising his eyes, at last met the gleams in two dark caverns +under Mr. Jones’s devilish eyebrows, directed upon him impenetrably. +He shuddered as if horrors worse than murder had been lurking there, +and said, nodding towards Ricardo:</p> +<p>“I dare say he wouldn’t think twice about sticking me, +if he had you at his back! I wish I had sunk my launch, and gone +to the bottom myself in her, before I boarded the steamer you came by. +Ah, well, I’ve been already living in hell for weeks, so you don’t +make much difference. I’ll let you have the concert-room +- and hang the consequences. But what about the boy on late duty? +If he sees the cards and actual money passing, he will be sure to blab, +and it will be all over the town in no time.”</p> +<p>A ghastly smile stirred the lips of Mr. Jones.</p> +<p>“Ah, I see you want to make a success of it. Very good. +That’s the way to get on. Don’t let it disturb you. +You chase all the Chinamen to bed early, and we’ll get Pedro here +every evening. He isn’t the conventional waiter’s +cut, but he will do to run to and fro with the tray, while you sit here +from nine to eleven serving out drinks and gathering the money.”</p> +<p>“There will be three of them now,” thought the unlucky +Schomberg.</p> +<p>But Pedro, at any rate, was just a simple, straightforward brute, +if a murderous one. There was no mystery about him, nothing uncanny, +no suggestion of a stealthy, deliberate wildcat turned into a man, or +of an insolent spectre on leave from Hades, endowed with skin and bones +and a subtle power of terror. Pedro with his fangs, his tangled +beard, and queer stare of his little bear’s eyes was, by comparison, +delightfully natural. Besides, Schomberg could no longer help +himself.</p> +<p>“That will do very well,” he asserted mournfully. +“But if you gentlemen, if you had turned up here only three months +ago - ay, less than three months ago - you would have found somebody +very different from what I am now to talk to you. It’s true. +What do you think of that?”</p> +<p>“I scarcely know what to think. I should think it was +a lie. You were probably as tame three months ago as you are now. +You were born tame, like most people in the world.”</p> +<p>Mr Jones got up spectrally, and Ricardo imitated him with a snarl +and a stretch. Schomberg, in a brown study, went on, as if to +himself:</p> +<p>“There has been an orchestra here - eighteen women.”</p> +<p>Mr Jones let out an exclamation of dismay, and looked about as if +the walls around him and the whole house had been infected with plague. +Then he became very angry, and swore violently at Schomberg for daring +to bring up such subjects. The hotel-keeper was too much surprised +to get up. He gazed from his chair at Mr. Jones’s anger, +which had nothing spectral in it but was not the more comprehensible +for that.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter?” he stammered out. “What +subject? Didn’t you hear me say it was an orchestra? +There’s nothing wrong in that. Well, there was a girl amongst +them - ” Schomberg’s eyes went stony; he clasped his +hands in front of his breast with such force that his knuckles came +out white. “Such a girl! Tame, am I? I would +have kicked everything to pieces about me for her. And she, of +course . . . I am in the prime of life . . . then a fellow bewitched +her - a vagabond, a false, bring, swindling, underhand, stick-at-nothing +brute. Ah!”</p> +<p>His entwined fingers cracked as he tore his hands apart, flung out +his arms, and leaned his forehead on them in a passion of fury. +The other two looked at his shaking back - the attenuated Mr. Jones +with mingled scorn and a sort of fear, Ricardo with the expression of +a cat which sees a piece of fish in the pantry out of reach. Schomberg +flung himself backwards. He was dry-eyed, but he gulped as if +swallowing sobs.</p> +<p>“No wonder you can do with me what you like. You have +no idea - just let me tell you of my trouble - ”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to know anything of your beastly trouble,” +said Mr. Jones, in his most lifelessly positive voice.</p> +<p>He stretched forth an arresting hand, and, as Schomberg remained +open-mouthed, he walked out of the billiard-room in all the uncanniness +of his thin shanks. Ricardo followed at his leader’s heels; +but he showed his teeth to Schomberg over his shoulder.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER SIX</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>From that evening dated those mysterious but significant phenomena +in Schomberg’s establishment which attracted Captain Davidson’s +casual notice when he dropped in, placid yet astute, in order to return +Mrs. Schomberg’s Indian shawl. And strangely enough, they +lasted some considerable time. It argued either honesty and bad +luck or extraordinary restraint on the part of “plain Mr. Jones +and Co.” in their discreet operations with cards.</p> +<p>It was a curious and impressive sight, the inside of Schomberg’s +concert-hall, encumbered at one end by a great stack of chairs piled +up on and about the musicians’ platform, and lighted at the other +by two dozen candles disposed about a long trestle table covered with +green cloth. In the middle, Mr. Jones, a starved spectre turned +into a banker, faced Ricardo, a rather nasty, slow-moving cat turned +into a croupier. By contrast, the other faces round that table, +anything between twenty and thirty, must have looked like collected +samples of intensely artless, helpless humanity - pathetic in their +innocent watch for the small turns of luck which indeed might have been +serious enough for them. They had no notice to spare for the hairy +Pedro, carrying a tray with the clumsiness of a creature caught in the +woods and taught to walk on its hind legs.</p> +<p>As to Schomberg, he kept out of the way. He remained in the +billiard-room, serving out drinks to the unspeakable Pedro with an air +of not seeing the growling monster, of not knowing where the drinks +went, of ignoring that there was such a thing as a music-room over there +under the trees within fifty yards of the hotel. He submitted +himself to the situation with a low-spirited stoicism compounded of +fear and resignation. Directly the party had broken up, (he could +see dark shapes of the men drifting singly and in knots through the +gate of the compound), he would withdraw out of sight behind a door +not quit closed, in order to avoid meeting his two extraordinary guests; +but he would watch through the crack their contrasted forms pass through +the billiard-room and disappear on their way to bed. Then he would +hear doors being slammed upstairs; and a profound silence would fall +upon the whole house, upon his hotel appropriated, haunted by those +insolently outspoken men provided with a whole armoury of weapons in +their trunks. A profound silence. Schomberg sometimes could +not resist the notion that he must be dreaming. Shuddering, he +would pull himself together, and creep out, with movements strangely +inappropriate to the Lieutenant-of-the-Reserve bearing by which he tried +to keep up his self-respect before the world.</p> +<p>A great loneliness oppressed him. One after another he would +extinguish the lamps, and move softly towards his bedroom, where Mrs. +Schomberg waited for him - no fit companion for a man of his ability +and “in the prime of life.” But that life, alas, was +blighted. He felt it; and never with such force as when on opening +the door he perceived that woman sitting patiently in a chair, her toes +peeping out under the edge of her night-dress, an amazingly small amount +of hair on her head drooping on the long stalk of scraggy neck, with +that everlasting scared grin showing a blue tooth and meaning nothing +- not even real fear. For she was used to him.</p> +<p>Sometimes he was tempted to screw the head off the stalk. He +imagined himself doing it - with one hand, a twisting movement. +Not seriously, of course. Just a simple indulgence for his exasperated +feelings. He wasn’t capable of murder. He was certain +of that. And, remembering suddenly the plain speeches of Mr. Jones, +he would think: “I suppose I am too tame for that” - quite +unaware that he had murdered the poor woman morally years ago. +He was too unintelligent to have the notion of such a crime. Her +bodily presence was bitterly offensive, because of its contrast with +a very different feminine image. And it was no use getting rid +of her. She was a habit of years, and there would be nothing to +put in her place. At any rate, he could talk to that idiot half +the night if he chose.</p> +<p>That night he had been vapouring before her as to his intention to +face his two guests and, instead of that inspiration he needed, had +merely received the usual warning: “Be careful, Wilhelm.” +He did not want to be told to be careful by an imbecile female. +What he needed was a pair of woman’s arms which, flung round his +neck, would brace him up for the encounter. Inspire him, he called +it to himself.</p> +<p>He lay awake a long time; and his slumbers, when they came, were +unsatisfactory and short. The morning light had no joy for his +eyes. He listened dismally to the movements in the house. +The Chinamen were unlocking and flinging wide the doors of the public +rooms which opened on the veranda. Horrors! Another poisoned +day to get through somehow! The recollection of his resolve made +him feel actually sick for a moment. First of all the lordly, +abandoned attitudes of Mr. Jones disconcerted him. Then there +was his contemptuous silence. Mr. Jones never addressed himself +to Schomberg with any general remarks, never opened his lips to him +unless to say “Good morning” - two simple words which, uttered +by that man, seemed a mockery of a threatening character. And, +lastly, it was not a frank physical fear he inspired - for as to that, +even a cornered rat will fight - but a superstitious shrinking awe, +something like an invincible repugnance to seek speech with a wicked +ghost. That it was a daylight ghost surprisingly angular in his +attitudes, and for the most part spread out on three chairs, did not +make it any easier. Daylight only made him a more weird, a more +disturbing and unlawful apparition. Strangely enough in the evening +when he came out of his mute supineness, this unearthly side of him +was less obtrusive. At the gaming-table, when actually handling +the cards, it was probably sunk quite out of sight; but Schomberg, having +made up his mind in ostrich-like fashion to ignore what was going on, +never entered the desecrated music-room. He had never seen Mr. +Jones in the exercise of his vocation - or perhaps it was only his trade.</p> +<p>“I will speak to him tonight,” Schomberg said to himself, +while he drank his morning tea, in pyjamas, on the veranda, before the +rising sun had topped the trees of the compound, and while the undried +dew still lay silvery on the grass, sparkled on the blossoms of the +central flower-bed, and darkened the yellow gravel of the drive. +“That’s what I’ll do. I won’t keep out +of sight tonight. I shall come out and catch him as he goes to +bed carrying the cash-box.”</p> +<p>After all, what was the fellow but common desperado? Murderous? +Oh, yes; murderous enough, perhaps - and the muscles of Schomberg’s +stomach had a quivering contraction under his airy attire. But +even a common desperado would think twice or, more likely, a hundred +times, before openly murdering an inoffensive citizen in a civilized, +European-ruled town. He jerked his shoulders. Of course! +He shuddered again, and paddled back to his room to dress himself. +His mind was made up, and he would think no more about it; but still +he had his doubts. They grew and unfolded themselves with the +progress of the day, as some plants do. At times they made him +perspire more than usual, and they did away with the possibility of +his afternoon siesta. After turning over on his couch more than +a dozen times, he gave up this mockery of repose, got up, and went downstairs.</p> +<p>It was between three and four o’clock, the hour of profound +peace. The very flowers seemed to doze on their stalks set with +sleepy leaves. Not even the air stirred, for the sea-breeze was +not due till later. The servants were out of sight, catching naps +in the shade somewhere behind the house. Mrs. Schomberg in a dim +up-stair room with closed jalousies, was elaborating those two long +pendant ringlets which were such a feature of her hairdressing for her +afternoon duties. At that time no customers ever troubled the +repose of the establishment. Wandering about his premises in profound +solitude, Schomberg recoiled at the door of the billiard-room, as if +he had seen a snake in his path. All alone with the billiards, +the bare little tables, and a lot of untenanted chairs, Mr. Secretary +Ricardo sat near the wall, performing with lightning rapidity something +that looked like tricks with his own personal pack of cards, which he +always carried about in his pocket. Schomberg would have backed +out quietly if Ricardo had not turned his head. Having been seen, +the hotel-keeper elected to walk in as the lesser risk of the two. +The consciousness of his inwardly abject attitude towards these men +caused him always to throw his chest out and assume a severe expression. +Ricardo watched his approach, clasping the pack of cards in both hands.</p> +<p>“You want something, perhaps?” suggested Schomberg in +his lieutenant-of-the-Reserve voice.</p> +<p>Ricardo shook his head in silence and looked expectant. With +him Schomberg exchanged at least twenty words every day. He was +infinitely more communicative than his patron. At times he looked +very much like an ordinary human being of his class; and he seemed to +be in an amiable mood at that moment. Suddenly spreading some +ten cards face downward in the form of a fan, he thrust them towards +Schomberg.</p> +<p>“Come, man, take one quick!”</p> +<p>Schomberg was so surprised that he took one hurriedly, after a very +perceptible start. The eyes of Martin Ricardo gleamed phosphorescent +in the half-light of the room screened from the heat and glare of the +tropics.</p> +<p>“That’s the king of hearts you’ve got,” he +chuckled, showing his teeth in a quick flash.</p> +<p>Schomberg, after looking at the card, admitted that it was, and laid +it down on the table.</p> +<p>“I can make you take any card I like nine times out of ten,” +exulted the secretary, with a strange curl of his lips and a green flicker +in his raised eyes.</p> +<p>Schomberg looked down at him dumbly. For a few seconds neither +of them stirred; then Ricardo lowered his glance, and, opening his fingers, +let the whole pack fall on the table. Schomberg sat down. +He sat down because of the faintness in his legs, and for no other reason. +His mouth was dry. Having sat down, he felt that he must speak. +He squared his shoulders in parade style.</p> +<p>“You are pretty good at that sort of thing,” he said.</p> +<p>“Practice makes perfect,” replied the secretary.</p> +<p>His precarious amiability made it impossible for Schomberg to get +away. Thus, from his very timidity, the hotel-keeper found himself +engaged in a conversation the thought of which filled him with apprehension. +It must be said, in justice to Schomberg, that he concealed his funk +very creditably. The habit of throwing out his chest and speaking +in a severe voice stood him in good stead. With him, too, practice +made perfect; and he would probably have kept it up to the end, to the +very last moment, to the ultimate instant of breaking strain which would +leave him grovelling on the floor. To add to his secret trouble, +he was at a loss what to say. He found nothing else but the remark:</p> +<p>“I suppose you are fond of cards.”</p> +<p>“What would you expect?” asked Ricardo in a simple, philosophical +tone. “It is likely I should not be?” Then, +with sudden fire: “Fond of cards? Ay, passionately!”</p> +<p>The effect of this outburst was augmented by the quiet lowering of +the eyelids, by a reserved pause as though this had been a confession +of another kind of love. Schomberg cudgelled his brains for a +new topic, but he could not find one. His usual scandalous gossip +would not serve this turn. That desperado did not know anyone +anywhere within a thousand miles. Schomberg was almost compelled +to keep to the subject.</p> +<p>“I suppose you’ve always been so - from your early youth.”</p> +<p>Ricardo’s eyes remained cast down. His fingers toyed +absently with the pack on the table.</p> +<p>“I don’t know that it was so early. I first got +in the way of it playing for tobacco - in forecastles of ships, you +know - common sailor games. We used to spend whole watches below +at it, round a chest, under a slush lamp. We would hardly spare +the time to get a bite of salt horse - neither eat nor sleep. +We could hardly stand when the watches were mustered on deck. +Talk of gambling!” He dropped the reminiscent tone to add +the information, “I was bred to the sea from a boy, you know.”</p> +<p>Schomberg had fallen into a reverie, but without losing the sense +of impending calamity. The next words he heard were:</p> +<p>“I got on all right at sea, too. Worked up to be mate. +I was mate of a schooner - a yacht, you might call her - a special good +berth too, in the Gulf of Mexico, a soft job that you don’t run +across more than once in a lifetime. Yes, I was mate of her when +I left the sea to follow him.”</p> +<p>Ricardo tossed up his chin to indicate the room above; from which +Schomberg, his wits painfully aroused by this reminder of Mr. Jones’s +existence, concluded that the latter had withdrawn into his bedroom. +Ricardo, observing him from under lowered eyelids, went on:</p> +<p>“It so happened that we were shipmates.”</p> +<p>“Mr Jones, you mean? Is he a sailor too?”</p> +<p>Ricardo raised his eyelids at that.</p> +<p>“He’s no more Mr. Jones than you are,” he said +with obvious pride. “He a sailor! That just shows +your ignorance. But there! A foreigner can’t be expected +to know any better. I am an Englishman, and I know a gentleman +at sight. I should know one drunk, in the gutter, in jail, under +the gallows. There’s a something - it isn’t exactly +the appearance, it’s a - no use me trying to tell you. You +ain’t an Englishman, and if you were, you wouldn’t need +to be told.”</p> +<p>An unsuspected stream of loquacity had broken its dam somewhere deep +within the man, had diluted his fiery blood and softened his pitiless +fibre. Schomberg experienced mingled relief and apprehension, +as if suddenly an enormous savage cat had begun to wind itself about +his legs in inexplicable friendliness. No prudent man under such +circumstances would dare to stir. Schomberg didn’t stir. +Ricardo assumed an easy attitude, with an elbow on the table. +Schomberg squared his shoulders afresh.</p> +<p>“I was employed, in that there yacht - schooner, whatever you +call it - by ten gentlemen at once. That surprises you, eh? +Yes, yes, ten. Leastwise there were nine of them gents good enough +in their way, and one downright gentleman, and that was . . . ”</p> +<p>Ricardo gave another upward jerk of his chin as much as to say: He! +The only one.</p> +<p>“And no mistake,” he went on. “I spotted +him from the first day. How? Why? Ay, you may ask. +Hadn’t seen that many gentlemen in my life. Well, somehow +I did. If you were an Englishman, you would - ”</p> +<p>“What was your yacht?” Schomberg interrupted as impatiently +as he dared; for this harping on nationality jarred on his already tried +nerves. “What was the game?”</p> +<p>“You have a headpiece on you! Game! ’Xactly. +That’s what it was - the sort of silliness gentlemen will get +up among themselves to play at adventure. A treasure-hunting expedition. +Each of them put down so much money, you understand, to buy the schooner. +Their agent in the city engaged me and the skipper. The greatest +secrecy and all that. I reckon he had a twinkle in his eye all +the time - and no mistake. But that wasn’t our business. +Let them bust their money as they like. The pity of it was that +so little of it came our way. Just fair pay and no more. +And damn any pay, much or little, anyhow - that’s what I say!”</p> +<p>He blinked his eyes greenishly in the dim light. The heat seemed +to have stilled everything in the world but his voice. He swore +at large, abundantly, in snarling undertones, it was impossible to say +why, then calmed down as inexplicably, and went on, as a sailor yarns.</p> +<p>“At first there were only nine of them adventurous sparks, +then, just a day or two before the sailing date, he turned up. +Heard of it somehow, somewhere - I would say from some woman, if I didn’t +know him as I do. He would give any woman a ten-mile berth. +He can’t stand them. Or maybe in a flash bar. Or maybe +in one of them grand clubs in Pall Mall. Anyway, the agent netted +him in all right - cash down, and only about four and twenty hours for +him to get ready; but he didn’t miss his ship. Not he! +You might have called it a pier-head jump - for a gentleman. I +saw him come along. Know the West India Docks, eh?”</p> +<p>Schomberg did not know the West India Docks. Ricardo looked +at him pensively for a while, and then continued, as if such ignorance +had to be disregarded.</p> +<p>“Our tug was already alongside. Two loafers were carrying +his dunnage behind him. I told the dockman at our moorings to +keep all fast for a minute. The gangway was down already; but +he made nothing of it. Up he jumps, one leap, swings his long +legs over the rail, and there he is on board. They pass up his +swell dunnage, and he puts his hand in his trousers pocket and throws +all his small change on the wharf for them chaps to pick up. They +were still promenading that wharf on all fours when we cast off. +It was only then that he looked at me - quietly, you know; in a slow +way. He wasn’t so thin then as he is now; but I noticed +he wasn’t so young as he looked - not by a long chalk. He +seemed to touch me inside somewhere. I went away pretty quick +from there; I was wanted forward anyhow. I wasn’t frightened. +What should I be frightened for? I only felt touched - on the +very spot. But Jee-miny, if anybody had told me we should be partners +before the year was out - well, I would have - ”</p> +<p>He swore a variety of strange oaths, some common, others quaintly +horrible to Schomberg’s ears, and all mere innocent exclamations +of wonder at the shifts and changes of human fortune. Schomberg +moved slightly in his chair. But the admirer and partner of “plain +Mr. Jones” seemed to have forgotten Schomberg’s existence +for the moment. The stream of ingenuous blasphemy - some of it +in bad Spanish - had run dry, and Martin Ricardo, connoisseur in gentlemen, +sat dumb with a stony gaze as if still marvelling inwardly at the amazing +elections, conjunctions, and associations of events which influence +man’s pilgrimage on this earth.</p> +<p>At last Schomberg spoke tentatively:</p> +<p>“And so the - the gentleman, up there, talked you over into +leaving a good berth?”</p> +<p>Ricardo started.</p> +<p>“Talked me over! Didn’t need to talk me over. +Just beckoned to me, and that was enough. By that time we were +in the Gulf of Mexico. One night we were lying at anchor, close +to a dry sandbank - to this day I am not sure where it was - off the +Colombian coast or thereabouts. We were to start digging the next +morning, and all hands had turned in early, expecting a hard day with +the shovels. Up he comes, and in his quiet, tired way of speaking +- you can tell a gentleman by that as much as by anything else almost +- up he comes behind me and says, just like that into my ear, in a manner: +‘Well, what do you think of our treasure hunt now?’</p> +<p>“I didn’t even turn my head; ’xactly as I stood, +I remained, and I spoke no louder than himself:</p> +<p>“‘If you want to know, sir, it’s nothing but just +damned tom-foolery.’</p> +<p>“We had, of course, been having short talks together at one +time or another during the passage. I dare say he had read me +like a book. There ain’t much to me, except that I have +never been tame, even when walking the pavement and cracking jokes and +standing drinks to chums - ay, and to strangers, too. I would +watch them lifting their elbows at my expense, or splitting their side +at my fun - I <i>can</i> be funny when I like, you bet!”</p> +<p>A pause for self-complacent contemplation of his own fun and generosity +checked the flow of Ricardo’s speech. Schomberg was concerned +to keep within bounds the enlargement of his eyes, which he seemed to +feel growing bigger in his head.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes,” he whispered hastily.</p> +<p>“I would watch them and think: ‘You boys don’t +know who I am. If you did - !’ With girls, too. +Once I was courting a girl. I used to kiss her behind the ear +and say to myself: ‘If you only knew who’s kissing you, +my dear, you would scream and bolt!’ Ha! ha! Not that +I wanted to do them any harm; but I felt the power in myself. +Now, here we sit, friendly like, and that’s all right. You +aren’t in my way. But I am not friendly to you. I +just don’t care. Some men do say that; but I really don’t. +You are no more to me one way or another than that fly there. +Just so. I’d squash you or leave you alone. I don’t +care what I do.”</p> +<p>If real force of character consists in overcoming our sudden weaknesses, +Schomberg displayed plenty of that quality. At the mention of +the fly, he re-enforced the severe dignity of his attitude as one inflates +a collapsing toy balloon with a great effort of breath. The easy-going, +relaxed attitude of Ricardo was really appalling.</p> +<p>“That’s so,” he went on. “I am that +sort of fellow. You wouldn’t think it, would you? +No. You have to be told. So I am telling you, and I dare +say you only half believe it. But you can’t say to yourself +that I am drunk, stare at me as you may. I haven’t had anything +stronger than a glass of iced water all day. Takes a real gentleman +to see through a fellow. Oh, yes - he spotted me. I told +you we had a few talks at sea about one thing or another. And +I used to watch him down the skylight, playing cards in the cuddy with +the others. They had to pass the time away somehow. By the +same token he caught me at it once, and it was then that I told him +I was fond of cards - and generally lucky in gambling, too. Yes, +he had sized me up. Why not? A gentleman’s just like +any other man - and something more.”</p> +<p>It flashed through Schomberg’s mind: that these two were indeed +well matched in their enormous dissimilarity, identical souls in different +disguises.</p> +<p>“Says he to me” - Ricardo started again in a gossiping +manner - ‘I’m packed up. It’s about time to +go, Martin.’</p> +<p>“It was the first time he called me Martin. Says I:</p> +<p>“‘Is that it, sir?’</p> +<p>“‘You didn’t think I was after that sort of treasure, +did you? I wanted to clear out from home quietly. It’s +a pretty expensive way of getting a passage across, but it has served +my turn.’</p> +<p>“I let him know very soon that I was game for anything, from +pitch and toss to wilful murder, in his company.</p> +<p>“‘Wilful murder?’ says he in his quiet way. +‘What the deuce is that? What are you talking about? +People do get killed sometimes when they get in one’s way, but +that’s self-defence - you understand?’</p> +<p>“I told him I did. And then I said I would run below +for a minute, to ram a few of my things into a sailor’s bag I +had. I’ve never cared for a lot of dunnage; I believed in +going about flying light when I was at sea. I came back and found +him strolling up and down the deck, as if he were taking a breath of +fresh air before turning in, like any other evening.</p> +<p>“‘Ready?’</p> +<p>“‘Yes, sir.’</p> +<p>“He didn’t even look at me. We had had a boat in +the water astern ever since we came to anchor in the afternoon. +He throws the stump of his cigar overboard.</p> +<p>“‘Can you get the captain out on deck?’ he asks.</p> +<p>“That was the last thing in the world I should have thought +of doing. I lost my tongue for a moment.</p> +<p>“‘I can try,’ says I.</p> +<p>“‘Well, then, I am going below. You get him up +and keep him with you till I come back on deck. Mind! Don’t +let him go below till I return.’</p> +<p>“I could not help asking why he told me to rouse a sleeping +man, when we wanted everybody on board to sleep sweetly till we got +clear of the schooner. He laughs a little and says that I didn’t +see all the bearings of this business.</p> +<p>“‘Mind,’ he says, ‘don’t let him leave +you till you see me come up again.’ He puts his eyes close +to mine. ‘Keep him with you at all costs.’</p> +<p>“‘And that means?’ says I.</p> +<p>“‘All costs to him - by every possible or impossible +means. I don’t want to be interrupted in my business down +below. He would give me lots of trouble. I take you with +me to save myself trouble in various circumstances; and you’ve +got to enter on your work right away.’</p> +<p>“‘Just so, sir,’ says I; and he slips down the +companion.</p> +<p>“With a gentleman you know at once where you are; but it was +a ticklish job. The skipper was nothing to me one way or another, +any more than you are at this moment, Mr. Schomberg. You may light +your cigar or blow your brains out this minute, and I don’t care +a hang which you do, both or neither. To bring the skipper up +was easy enough. I had only to stamp on the deck a few times over +his head. I stamped hard. But how to keep him up when he +got there?</p> +<p>“‘Anything the matter; Mr. Ricardo?’ I heard his +voice behind me.</p> +<p>“There he was, and I hadn’t thought of anything to say +to him; so I didn’t turn round. The moonlight was brighter +than many a day I could remember in the North Sea.</p> +<p>“‘Why did you call me? What are you staring at +out there, Mr. Ricardo?’</p> +<p>“He was deceived by my keeping my back to him. I wasn’t +staring at anything, but his mistake gave me a notion.</p> +<p>“‘I am staring at something that looks like a canoe over +there,’ I said very slowly.</p> +<p>“The skipper got concerned at once. It wasn’t any +danger from the inhabitants, whoever they were.</p> +<p>“‘Oh, hang it!’ says he. ‘That’s +very unfortunate.’ He had hoped that the schooner being +on the coast would not get known so very soon. ‘Dashed awkward, +with the business we’ve got in hand, to have a lot of niggers +watching operations. But are you certain this is a canoe?’</p> +<p>“‘It may be a drift-log,’ I said; ‘but I +thought you had better have a look with your own eyes. You may +make it out better than I can.’</p> +<p>“His eyes weren’t anything as good as mine. But +he says:</p> +<p>“‘Certainly. Certainly. You did quite right.’</p> +<p>“And it’s a fact I had seen some drift-logs at sunset. +I saw what they were then and didn’t trouble my head about them, +forgot all about it till that very moment. Nothing strange in +seeing drift-logs off a coast like that; and I’m hanged if the +skipper didn’t make one out in the wake of the moon. Strange +what a little thing a man’s life hangs on sometimes - a single +word! Here you are, sitting unsuspicious before me, and you may +let out something unbeknown to you that would settle your hash. +Not that I have any ill-feeling. I have no feelings. If +the skipper had said, ‘O, bosh!’ and had turned his back +on me, he would not have gone three steps towards his bed; but he stood +there and stared. And now the job was to get him off the deck +when he was no longer wanted there.</p> +<p>“‘We are just trying to make out if that object there +is a canoe or a log,’ says he to Mr. Jones.</p> +<p>“Mr Jones had come up, lounging as carelessly as when he went +below. While the skipper was jawing about boats and drifting logs. +I asked by signs, from behind, if I hadn’t better knock him on +the head and drop him quietly overboard. The night was slipping +by, and we had to go. It couldn’t be put off till next night +no more. No. No more. And do you know why?”</p> +<p>Schomberg made a slight negative sign with his head. This direct +appeal annoyed him, jarred on the induced quietude of a great talker +forced into the part of a listener and sunk in it as a man sinks into +slumber. Mr. Ricardo struck a note of scorn.</p> +<p>“Don’t know why? Can’t you guess? No? +Because the boss had got hold of the skipper’s cash-box by then. +See?”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER SEVEN</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“A common thief!”</p> +<p>Schomberg bit his tongue just too late, and woke up completely as +he saw Ricardo retract his lips in a cat-like grin; but the companion +of “plain Mr. Jones” didn’t alter his comfortable, +gossiping attitude.</p> +<p>“Garn! What if he did want to see his money back, like +any tame shopkeeper, hash-seller, gin-slinger, or ink-spewer does? +Fancy a mud turtle like you trying to pass an opinion on a gentleman! +A gentleman isn’t to be sized up so easily. Even I ain’t +up to it sometimes. For instance, that night, all he did was to +waggle his finger at me. The skipper stops his silly chatter, +surprised.</p> +<p>“‘Eh? What’s the matter?’ asks he.</p> +<p>“The matter! It was his reprieve - that’s what +was the matter.</p> +<p>“‘O, nothing, nothing,’ says my gentleman. +‘You are perfectly right. A log - nothing but a log.’</p> +<p>“Ha, ha! Reprieve, I call it, because if the skipper +had gone on with his silly argument much longer he would have had to +be knocked out of the way. I could hardly hold myself in on account +of the precious minutes. However, his guardian angel put it into +his head to shut up and go back to his bed. I was ramping mad +about the lost time.”</p> +<p>“‘Why didn’t you let me give him one on his silly +coconut sir?’ I asks.</p> +<p>“‘No ferocity, no ferocity,’ he says, raising his +finger at me as calm as you please.</p> +<p>“You can’t tell how a gentleman takes that sort of thing. +They don’t lost their temper. It’s bad form. +You’ll never see him lose his temper - not for anybody to see +anyhow. Ferocity ain’t good form, either - that much I’ve +learned by this time, and more, too. I’ve had that schooling +that you couldn’t tell by my face if I meant to rip you up the +next minute - as of course I could do in less than a jiffy. I +have a knife up the leg of my trousers.”</p> +<p>“You haven’t!” exclaimed Schomberg incredulously.</p> +<p>Mr Ricardo was as quick as lightning in changing his lounging, idle +attitude for a stooping position, and exhibiting the weapon with one +jerk at the left leg of his trousers. Schomberg had just a view +of it, strapped to a very hairy limb, when Mr. Ricardo, jumping up, +stamped his foot to get the trouser-leg down, and resumed his careless +pose with one elbow on the table.</p> +<p>“It’s a more handy way to carry a tool than you would +think,” he went on, gazing abstractedly into Schomberg’s +wide-open eyes. “Suppose some little difference comes up +during a game. Well, you stoop to pick up a dropped card, and +when you come up - there you are ready to strike, or with the thing +up you sleeve ready to throw. Or you just dodge under the table +when there’s some shooting coming. You wouldn’t believe +the damage a fellow with a knife under the table can do to ill-conditioned +skunks that want to raise trouble, before they begin to understand what +the screaming’s about, and make a bolt - those that can, that +is.”</p> +<p>The roses of Schomberg’s cheek at the root of his chestnut +beard faded perceptibly. Ricardo chuckled faintly.</p> +<p>“But no ferocity - no ferocity! A gentleman knows. +What’s the good of getting yourself into a state? And no +shirking necessity, either. No gentleman ever shirks. What +I learn I don’t forget. Why! We gambled on the plains, +with a damn lot of cattlemen in ranches; played fair, mind - and then +had to fight for our winnings afterwards as often as not. We’ve +gambled on the hills and in the valleys and on the sea-shore, and out +of sight of land - mostly fair. Generally it’s good enough. +We began in Nicaragua first, after we left that schooner and her fool +errand. There were one hundred and twenty-seven sovereigns and +some Mexican dollars in that skipper’s cash-box. Hardly +enough to knock a man on the head for from behind, I must confess; but +that the skipper had a narrow escape the governor himself could not +deny afterwards.</p> +<p>“‘Do you want me to understand, sir, that you mind there +being one life more or less on this earth?’ I asked him, a few +hours after we got away.</p> +<p>“‘Certainly not,’ says he.</p> +<p>“‘Well, then, why did you stop me?’</p> +<p>“‘There’s a proper way of doing things. You’ll +have to learn to be correct. There’s also unnecessary exertion. +That must be avoided, too - if only for the look of the thing.’ +A gentleman’s way of putting things to you - and no mistake!</p> +<p>“At sunrise we got into a creek, to lie hidden in case the +treasure hunt party had a mind to take a spell hunting for us. +And dash me if they didn’t! We saw the schooner away out, +running to leeward, with ten pairs of binoculars sweeping the sea, no +doubt on all sides. I advised the governor to give her time to +beat back again before we made a start. So we stayed up that creek +something like ten days, as snug as can be. On the seventh day +we had to kill a man, though - the brother of this Pedro here. +They were alligator-hunters, right enough. We got our lodgings +in their hut. Neither the boss nor I could <i>habla Español</i> +- speak Spanish, you know - much then. Dry bank, nice shade, jolly +hammocks, fresh fish, good game, everything lovely. The governor +chucked them a few dollars to begin with; but it was like boarding with +a pair of savage apes, anyhow. By and by we noticed them talking +a lot together. They had twigged the cash-box, and the leather +portmanteaus, and my bag - a jolly lot of plunder to look at. +They must have been saying to each other:</p> +<p>“‘No one’s ever likely to come looking for these +two fellows, who seem to have fallen from the moon. Let’s +cut their throats.’</p> +<p>“Why, of course! Clear as daylight. I didn’t +need to spy one of them sharpening a devilish long knife behind some +bushes, while glancing right and left with his wild eyes, to know what +was in the wind. Pedro was standing by, trying the edge of another +long knife. They thought we were away on our lookout at the mouth +of the river, as was usual with us during the day. Not that we +expected to see much of the schooner, but it was just as well to make +certain, if possible; and then it was cooler out of the woods, in the +breeze. Well, the governor was there right enough, lying comfortable +on a rug, where he could watch the offing, but I had gone back to the +hut to get a chew of tobacco out of my bag. I had not broken myself +of the habit then, and I couldn’t be happy unless I had a lump +as big as a baby’s fist in my cheek.”</p> +<p>At the cannibalistic comparison, Schomberg muttered a faint, sickly +“don’t.” Ricardo hitched himself up in his seat +and glanced down his outstretched legs complacently.</p> +<p>“I am tolerably light on my feet, as a general thing,” +he went on. “Dash me if I don’t think I could drop +a pinch of salt on a sparrow’s tail, if I tried. Anyhow, +they didn’t hear me. I watched them two brown, hairy brutes +not ten yards off. All they had on was white linen drawers rolled +up on their thighs. Not a word they said to each other. +Antonio was down on his thick hams, busy rubbing a knife on a flat stone; +Pedro was leaning against a small tree and passing his thumb along the +edge of his blade. I got away quieter than a mouse, you bet.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t say anything to the boss then. He was +leaning on his elbow on his rug, and didn’t seem to want to be +spoken to. He’s like that - sometimes that familiar you +might think he would eat out of your hand, and at others he would snub +you sharper than a devil - but always quiet. Perfect gentleman, +I tell you. I didn’t bother him, then; but I wasn’t +likely to forget them two fellows, so businesslike with their knives. +At that time we had only one revolver between us two - the governor’s +six-shooter, but loaded only in five chambers; and we had no more cartridges. +He had left the box behind in a drawer in his cabin. Awkward! +I had nothing but an old clasp-knife - no good at all for anything serious.</p> +<p>“In the evening we four sat round a bit of fire outside the +sleeping-shed, eating broiled fish off plantain leaves, with roast yams +for bread - the usual thing. The governor and I were on one side, +and these two beauties cross-legged on the other, grunting a word or +two to each other, now and then, hardly human speech at all, and their +eyes down, fast on the ground. For the last three days we couldn’t +get them to look us in the face. Presently I began to talk to +the boss quietly, just as I am talking to you now, careless like, and +I told him all I had observed. He goes on picking up pieces of +fish and putting them into his mouth as calm as anything. It’s +a pleasure to have anything to do with a gentleman. Never looked +across at them once.</p> +<p>“‘And now,’ says I, yawning on purpose, ‘we’ve +got to stand watch at night, turn about, and keep our eyes skinned all +day, too, and mind we don’t get jumped upon suddenly.’</p> +<p>“‘It’s perfectly intolerable,’ says the governor. +‘And you with no weapon of any sort!’</p> +<p>“‘I mean to stick pretty close to you, sir, from this +on, if you don’t mind,’ says I.</p> +<p>“He just nods the least bit, wipes his fingers on the plantain +leaf, puts his hand behind his back, as if to help himself to rise from +the ground, snatches his revolver from under his jacket and plugs a +bullet plumb centre into Mr. Antonio’s chest. See what it +is to have to do with a gentleman. No confounded fuss, and things +done out of hand. But he might have tipped me a wink or something. +I nearly jumped out of my skin. Scared ain’t in it! +I didn’t even know who had fired. Everything had been so +still just before that the bang of the shot seemed the loudest noise +I had ever heard. The honourable Antonio pitches forward - they +always do, towards the shot; you must have noticed that yourself - yes, +he pitches forward on to the embers, and all that lot of hair on his +face and head flashes up like a pinch of gunpowder. Greasy, I +expect; always scraping the fat off them alligators’ hides - ”</p> +<p>“Look here,” exclaimed Schomberg violently, as if trying +to burst some invisible bonds, “do you mean to say that all this +happened?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Ricardo coolly. “I am making it +all up as I go along, just to help you through the hottest part of the +afternoon. So down he pitches his nose on the red embers, and +up jumps our handsome Pedro and I at the same time, like two Jacks-in-the-box. +He starts to bolt away, with his head over his shoulder, and I, hardly +knowing what I was doing, spring on his back. I had the sense +to get my hands round his neck at once, and it’s about all I could +do to lock my fingers tight under his jaw. You saw the beauty’s +neck, didn’t you? Hard as iron, too. Down we both +went. Seeing this the governor puts his revolver in his pocket.</p> +<p>“‘Tie his legs together, sir,’ I yell. ‘I’m +trying to strangle him.’</p> +<p>“There was a lot of their fibre-lines lying about. I +gave him a last squeeze and then got up.</p> +<p>“‘I might have shot you,’ says the governor, quite +concerned.</p> +<p>“‘But you are glad to have saved a cartridge, sir,’ +I tell him.</p> +<p>“My jump did save it. It wouldn’t have done to +let him get away in the dark like that, and have the beauty dodging +around in the bushes, perhaps, with the rusty flint-lock gun they had. +The governor owned up that the jump was the correct thing.</p> +<p>“‘But he isn’t dead,’ says he, bending over +him.</p> +<p>“Might as well hope to strangle an ox. We made haste +to tie his elbows back, and then, before he came to himself, we dragged +him to a small tree, sat him up, and bound him to it, not by the waist +but by the neck - some twenty turns of small line round his throat and +the trunk, finished off with a reef-knot under his ear. Next thing +we did was to attend to the honourable Antonio, who was making a great +smell frizzling his face on the red coals. We pushed and rolled +him into the creek, and left the rest to the alligators.</p> +<p>“I was tired. That little scrap took it out of me something +awful. The governor hadn’t turned a hair. That’s +where a gentleman has the pull of you. He don’t get excited. +No gentleman does - or hardly ever. I fell asleep all of a sudden +and left him smoking by the fire I had made up, his railway rug round +his legs, as calm as if he were sitting in a first-class carriage. +We hardly spoke ten words to each other after it was over, and from +that day to this we have never talked of the business. I wouldn’t +have known he remembered it if he hadn’t alluded to it when talking +with you the other day - you know, with regard to Pedro.”</p> +<p>“It surprised you, didn’t it? That’s why +I am giving you this yarn of how he came to be with us, like a sort +of dog - dashed sight more useful, though. You know how he can +trot around with trays? Well, he could bring down an ox with his +fist, at a word from the boss, just as cleverly. And fond of the +governor! Oh, my word! More than any dog is of any man.”</p> +<p>Schomberg squared his chest.</p> +<p>“Oh, and that’s one of the things I wanted to mention +to Mr. Jones,” he said. “It’s unpleasant to +have that fellow round the house so early. He sits on the stairs +at the back for hours before he is needed here, and frightens people +so that the service suffers. The Chinamen - ”</p> +<p>Ricardo nodded and raised his hand.</p> +<p>“When I first saw him he was fit to frighten a grizzly bear, +let alone a Chinaman. He’s become civilized now to what +he once was. Well, that morning, first thing on opening my eyes, +I saw him sitting there, tied up by the neck to the tree. He was +blinking. We spend the day watching the sea, and we actually made +out the schooner working to windward, which showed that she had given +us up. Good! When the sun rose again, I took a squint at +our Pedro. He wasn’t blinking. He was rolling his +eyes, all white one minute and black the next, and his tongue was hanging +out a yard. Being tied up short by the neck like this would daunt +the arch devil himself - in time - in time, mind! I don’t +know but that even a real gentleman would find it difficult to keep +a stiff lip to the end. Presently we went to work getting our +boat ready. I was busying myself setting up the mast, when the +governor passes the remark:</p> +<p>“‘I think he wants to say something.’</p> +<p>“I had heard a sort of croaking going on for some time, only +I wouldn’t take any notice; but then I got out of the boat and +went up to him, with some water. His eyes were red - red and black +and half out of his head. He drank all the water I gave him, but +he hadn’t much to say for himself. I walked back to the +governor.</p> +<p>“‘He asks for a bullet in his head before we go,’ +I said. I wasn’t at all pleased.</p> +<p>“‘Oh, that’s out of the question altogether,’ +says the governor.</p> +<p>“He was right there. Only four shots left, and ninety +miles of wild coast to put behind us before coming to the first place +where you could expect to buy revolver cartridges.</p> +<p>“‘Anyhow,’ I tells him, ‘he wants to be killed +some way or other, as a favour.’</p> +<p>“And then I go on setting up the boat’s mast. I +didn’t care much for the notion of butchering a man bound hand +and foot and fastened by the neck besides. I had a knife then +- the honourable Antonio’s knife; and that knife is this knife.</p> +<p>Ricardo gave his leg a resounding slap.</p> +<p>“First spoil in my new life,” he went on with harsh joviality. +“The dodge of carrying it down there I learned later. I +carried it stuck in my belt that day. No, I hadn’t much +stomach for the job; but when you work with a gentleman of the real +right sort you may depend on your feelings being seen through your skin. +Says the governor suddenly:</p> +<p>“‘It may even be looked upon as his right’ - you +hear a gentleman speaking there? - ‘but what do you think of taking +him with us in the boat?’</p> +<p>“And the governor starts arguing that the beggar would be useful +in working our way along the coast. We could get rid of him before +coming to the first place that was a little civilized. I didn’t +want much talking over. Out I scrambled from the boat.</p> +<p>“‘Ay, but will he be manageable, sir?’</p> +<p>“‘Oh, yes. He’s daunted. Go on, cut +him loose - I take the responsibility.’</p> +<p>“‘Right you are, sir.’</p> +<p>“He sees me come along smartly with his brother’s knife +in my hand - I wasn’t thinking how it looked from his side of +the fence, you know - and jiminy, it nearly killed him! He stared +like a crazed bullock and began to sweat and twitch all over, something +amazing. I was so surprised, that I stopped to look at him. +The drops were pouring over his eyebrows, down his beard, off his nose +- and he gurgled. Then it struck me that he couldn’t see +what was in my mind. By favour or by right he didn’t like +to die when it came to it; not in that way, anyhow. When I stepped +round to get at the lashing, he let out a sort of soft bellow. +Thought I was going to stick him from behind, I guess. I cut all +the turns with one slash, and he went over on his side, flop, and started +kicking with his tied legs. Laugh! I don’t know what +there was so funny about it, but I fairly shouted. What between +my laughing and his wriggling, I had a job in cutting him free. +As soon as he could feel his limbs he makes for the bank, where the +governor was standing, crawls up to him on his hands and knees, and +embraces his legs. Gratitude, eh? You could see that being +allowed to live suited that chap down to the ground. The governor +gets his legs away from him gently and just mutters to me:</p> +<p>“‘Let’s be off. Get him into the boat.’</p> +<p>“It was not difficult,” continued Ricardo, after eyeing +Schomberg fixedly for a moment. “He was ready enough to +get into the boat, and - here he is. He would let himself be chopped +into small pieces - with a smile, mind; with a smile! - for the governor. +I don’t know about him doing that much for me; but pretty near, +pretty near. I did the tying up and the untying, but he could +see who was the boss. And then he knows a gentleman. A dog +knows a gentleman - any dog. It’s only some foreigners that +don’t know; and nothing can teach them, either.”</p> +<p>“And you mean to say,” asked Schomberg, disregarding +what might have been annoying for himself in the emphasis of the final +remark, “you mean to say that you left steady employment at good +wages for a life like this?”</p> +<p>“There!” began Ricardo quietly. “That’s +just what a man like you would say. You are that tame! I +follow a gentleman. That ain’t the same thing as to serve +an employer. They give you wages as they’d fling a bone +to a dog, and they expect you to be grateful. It’s worse +than slavery. You don’t expect a slave that’s bought +for money to be grateful. And if you sell your work - what is +it but selling your own self? You’ve got so many days to +live and you sell them one after another. Hey? Who can pay +me enough for my life? Ay! But they throw at you your week’s +money and expect you to say ‘thank you’ before you pick +it up.”</p> +<p>He mumbled some curses, directed at employers generally, as it seemed, +then blazed out:</p> +<p>“Work be damned! I ain’t a dog walking on its hind +legs for a bone; I am a man who’s following a gentleman. +There’s a difference which you will never understand, Mr. Tame +Schomberg.”</p> +<p>He yawned slightly. Schomberg, preserving a military stiffness +reinforced by a slight frown, had allowed his thoughts to stray away. +They were busy detailing the image of a young girl - absent - gone - +stolen from him. He became enraged. There was that rascal +looking at him insolently. If the girl had not been shamefully +decoyed away from him, he would not have allowed anyone to look at him +insolently. He would have made nothing of hitting that rogue between +the eyes. Afterwards he would have kicked the other without hesitation. +He saw himself doing it; and in sympathy with this glorious vision Schomberg’s +right foot, and arm moved convulsively.</p> +<p>At this moment he came out of his sudden reverie to note with alarm +the wide-awake curiosity of Mr. Ricardo’s stare.</p> +<p>“And so you go like this about the world, gambling,” +he remarked inanely, to cover his confusion. But Ricardo’s +stare did not change its character, and he continued vaguely:</p> +<p>“Here and there and everywhere.” He pulled himself +together, squared his shoulders. “Isn’t it very precarious?” +he said firmly.</p> +<p>The word precarious - seemed to be effective, because Ricardo’s +eyes lost their dangerously interested expression.</p> +<p>“No, not so bad,” Ricardo said, with indifference. +“It’s my opinion that men will gamble as long as they have +anything to put on a card. Gamble? That’s nature. +What’s life itself? You never know what may turn up. +The worst of it is that you never can tell exactly what sort of cards +you are holding yourself. What’s trumps? - that is the question. +See? Any man will gamble if only he’s given a chance, for +anything or everything. You too - ”</p> +<p>“I haven’t touched a card now for twenty years,” +said Schomberg in an austere tone.</p> +<p>“Well, if you got your living that way you would be no worse +than you are now, selling drinks to people - beastly beer and spirits, +rotten stuff fit to make an old he-goat yell if you poured it down its +throat. Pooh! I can’t stand the confounded liquor. +Never could. A whiff of neat brandy in a glass makes me feel sick. +Always did. If everybody was like me, liquor would be going a-begging. +You think it’s funny in a man, don’t you?”</p> +<p>Schomberg made a vague gesture of toleration. Ricardo hitched +up his chair and settled his elbow afresh on the table.</p> +<p>“French siros I must say I do like. Saigon’s the +place for them. I see you have siros in the bar. Hang me +if I ain’t getting dry, conversing like this with you. Come, +Mr. Schomberg, be hospitable, as the governor says.”</p> +<p>Schomberg rose and walked with dignity to the counter. His +footsteps echoed loudly on the floor of polished boards. He took +down a bottle, labelled “<i>Sirop de Groseille</i>.” +The little sounds he made, the clink of glass, the gurgling of the liquid, +the pop of the soda-water cork had a preternatural sharpness. +He came back carrying a pink and glistening tumbler. Mr. Ricardo +had followed his movements with oblique, coyly expectant yellow eyes, +like a cat watching the preparation of a saucer of milk, and the satisfied +sound after he had drunk might have been a slightly modified form of +purring, very soft and deep in his throat. It affected Schomberg +unpleasantly as another example of something inhuman in those men wherein +lay the difficulty of dealing with them. A spectre, a cat, an +ape - there was a pretty association for a mere man to remonstrate with, +he reflected with an inward shudder; for Schomberg had been overpowered, +as it were, by his imagination, and his reason could not react against +that fanciful view of his guests. And it was not only their appearance. +The morals of Mr. Ricardo seemed to him to be pretty much the morals +of a cat. Too much. What sort of argument could a mere man +offer to a . . . or to a spectre, either! What the morals of a +spectre could be, Schomberg had no idea. Something dreadful, no +doubt. Compassion certainly had no place in them. As to +the ape - well, everybody knew what an ape was. It had no morals. +Nothing could be more hopeless.</p> +<p>Outwardly, however, having picked up the cigar which he had laid +aside to get the drink, with his thick fingers, one of them ornamented +by a gold ring, Schomberg smoked with moody composure. Facing +him, Ricardo blinked slowly for a time, then closed his eyes altogether, +with the placidity of the domestic cat dozing on the hearth-rug. +In another moment he opened them very wide, and seemed surprised to +see Schomberg there.</p> +<p>“You’re having a very slack time today, aren’t +you?” he observed. “But then this whole town is confoundedly +slack, anyhow; and I’ve never faced such a slack party at a table +before. Come eleven o’clock, they begin to talk of breaking +up. What’s the matter with them? Want to go to bed +so early, or what?”</p> +<p>“I reckon you don’t lose a fortune by their wanting to +go to bed,” said Schomberg, with sombre sarcasm.</p> +<p>“No,” admitted Ricardo, with a grin that stretched his +thin mouth from ear to ear, giving a sudden glimpse of his white teeth. +“Only, you see, when I once start, I would play for nuts, for +parched peas, for any rubbish. I would play them for their souls. +But these Dutchmen aren’t any good. They never seem to get +warmed up properly, win or lose. I’ve tried them both ways, +too. Hang them for a beggarly, bloodless lot of animated cucumbers!”</p> +<p>“And if anything out of the way was to happen, they would be +just as cool in locking you and your gentleman up,” Schomberg +snarled unpleasantly.</p> +<p>“Indeed!” said Ricardo slowly, taking Schomberg’s +measure with his eyes. “And what about you?”</p> +<p>“You talk mighty big,” burst out the hotel-keeper. +“You talk of ranging all over the world, and doing great things, +and taking fortune by the scruff of the neck, but here you stick at +this miserable business!”</p> +<p>“It isn’t much of a lay - that’s a fact,” +admitted Ricardo unexpectedly.</p> +<p>Schomberg was red in the face with audacity.</p> +<p>“I call it paltry,” he spluttered.</p> +<p>“That’s how it looks. Can’t call it anything +else.” Ricardo seemed to be in an accommodating mood. +“I should be ashamed of it myself, only you see the governor is +subject to fits - ”</p> +<p>“Fits!” Schomberg cried out, but in a low tone. +“You don’t say so!” He exulted inwardly, as +if this disclosure had in some way diminished the difficulty of the +situation. “Fits! That’s a serious thing, isn’t +it? You ought to take him to the civil hospital - a lovely place.”</p> +<p>Ricardo nodded slightly, with a faint grin.</p> +<p>“Serious enough. Regular fits of laziness, I call them. +Now and then he lays down on me like this, and there’s no moving +him. If you think I like it, you’re a long way out. +Generally speaking, I can talk him over. I know how to deal with +a gentleman. I am no daily-bread slave. But when he has +said, ‘Martin, I am bored,’ then look out! There’s +nothing to do but to shut up, confound it!”</p> +<p>Schomberg, very much cast down, had listened open-mouthed.</p> +<p>“What’s the cause of it?” he asked. “Why +is he like this? I don’t understand.”</p> +<p>“I think I do,” said Ricardo. “A gentleman, +you know, is not such a simple person as you or I; and not so easy to +manage, either. If only I had something to lever him out with!”</p> +<p>“What do you mean, to lever him out with?” muttered Schomberg +hopelessly.</p> +<p>Ricardo was impatient with this denseness.</p> +<p>“Don’t you understand English? Look here! +I couldn’t make this billiard table move an inch if I talked to +it from now till the end of days - could I? Well, the governor +is like that, too, when the fits are on him. He’s bored. +Nothing’s worthwhile, nothing’s good enough, that’s +mere sense. But if I saw a capstan bar lying about here, I would +soon manage to shift that billiard table of yours a good many inches. +And that’s all there is to it.”</p> +<p>He rose noiselessly, stretched himself, supple and stealthy, with +curious sideways movements of his head and unexpected elongations of +his thick body, glanced out of the corners of his eyes in the direction +of the door, and finally leaned back against the table, folding his +arms on his breast comfortably, in a completely human attitude.</p> +<p>“That’s another thing you can tell a gentleman by - his +freakishness. A gentleman ain’t accountable to nobody, any +more than a tramp on the roads. He ain’t got to keep time. +The governor got like this once in a one-horse Mexican pueblo on the +uplands, away from everywhere. He lay all day long in a dark room +- ”</p> +<p>“Drunk?” This word escaped Schomberg by inadvertence +at which he became frightened. But the devoted secretary seemed +to find it natural.</p> +<p>“No, that never comes on together with this kind of fit. +He just lay there full length on a mat, while a ragged, bare-legged +boy that he had picked up in the street sat in the <i>patio</i>, between +two oleanders near the open door of his room, strumming on a guitar +and singing <i>tristes</i> to him from morning to night. You know +<i>tristes</i> - twang, twang, twang, aouh, hoo! Chroo, yah!”</p> +<p>Schomberg uplifted his hands in distress. This tribute seemed +to flatter Ricardo. His mouth twitched grimly.</p> +<p>“Like that - enough to give colic to an ostrich, eh? +Awful. Well, there was a cook there who loved me - an old fat, +Negro woman with spectacles. I used to hide in the kitchen and +turn her to, to make me <i>dulces</i> - sweet things, you know, mostly +eggs and sugar - to pass the time away. I am like a kid for sweet +things. And, by the way, why don’t you ever have a pudding +at your tablydott, Mr. Schomberg? Nothing but fruit, morning, +noon, and night. Sickening! What do you think a fellow is +- a wasp?”</p> +<p>Schomberg disregarded the injured tone.</p> +<p>“And how long did that fit, as you call it, last?” he +asked anxiously.</p> +<p>“Weeks, months, years, centuries, it seemed to me,” returned +Mr. Ricardo with feeling. “Of an evening the governor would +stroll out into the <i>sala</i> and fritter his life away playing cards +with the <i>juez</i> of the place - a little Dago with a pair of black +whiskers - ekarty, you know, a quick French game, for small change. +And the <i>comandante</i>, a one-eyed, half-Indian, flat-nosed ruffian, +and I, we had to stand around and bet on their hands. It was awful!”</p> +<p>“Awful,” echoed Schomberg, in a Teutonic throaty tone +of despair. “Look here, I need your rooms.”</p> +<p>“To be sure. I have been thinking that for some time +past,” said Ricardo indifferently.</p> +<p>“I was mad when I listened to you. This must end!”</p> +<p>“I think you are mad yet,” said Ricardo, not even unfolding +his arms or shifting his attitude an inch. He lowered his voice +to add: “And if I thought you had been to the police, I would +tell Pedro to catch you round the waist and break your fat neck by jerking +your head backward - snap! I saw him do it to a big buck nigger +who was flourishing a razor in front of the governor. It can be +done. You hear a low crack, that’s all - and the man drops +down like a limp rag.”</p> +<p>Not even Ricardo’s head, slightly inclined on the left shoulder, +had moved; but when he ceased the greenish irises which had been staring +out of doors glided into the corners of his eyes nearest to Schomberg +and stayed there with a coyly voluptuous expression.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER EIGHT</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Schomberg felt desperation, that lamentable substitute for courage, +ooze out of him. It was not so much the threat of death as the +weirdly circumstantial manner of its declaration which affected him. +A mere “I’ll murder you,” however ferocious in tone, +and earnest, in purpose, he could have faced; but before this novel +mode of speech and procedure, his imagination being very sensitive to +the unusual, he collapsed as if indeed his moral neck had been broken +- snap!</p> +<p>“Go to the police? Of course not. Never dreamed +of it. Too late now. I’ve let myself be mixed up in +this. You got my consent while I wasn’t myself. I +explained it to you at the time.”</p> +<p>Ricardo’s eye glided gently off Schomberg to stare far away.</p> +<p>“Ay! Some trouble with a girl. But that’s +nothing to us.”</p> +<p>“Naturally. What I say is, what’s the good of all +that savage talk to me?” A bright argument occurred to him. +“It’s out of proportion; for even if I were fool enough +to go to the police now, there’s nothing serious to complain about. +It would only mean deportation for you. They would put you on +board the first west-bound steamer to Singapore.” He had +become animated. “Out of this to the devil,” he added +between his teeth for his own private satisfaction.</p> +<p>Ricardo made no comment, and gave no sign of having heard a single +word. This discouraged Schomberg, who had looked up hopefully.</p> +<p>“Why do you want to stick here?” he cried. “It +can’t pay you people to fool around like this. Didn’t +you worry just now about moving your governor? Well, the police +would move him for you; and from Singapore you can go on to the east +coast of Africa.”</p> +<p>“I’ll be hanged if the fellow isn’t up to that +silly trick!” was Ricardo’s comment, spoken in an ominous +tone which recalled Schomberg to the realities of his position.</p> +<p>“No! No!” he protested. “It’s +a manner of speaking. Of course I wouldn’t.”</p> +<p>“I think that trouble about the girl has really muddled your +brains, Mr. Schomberg. Believe me, you had better part friends +with us; for, deportation or no deportation, you’ll be seeing +one of us turning up before long to pay you off for any nasty dodge +you may be hatching in that fat head of yours.”</p> +<p>“<i>Gott im Himmel</i>!” groaned Schomberg. “Will +nothing move him out? Will he stop here immer - I mean always? +Suppose I were to make it worth your while, couldn’t you - ”</p> +<p>“No,” Ricardo interrupted. “I couldn’t, +unless I had something to lever him out with. I’ve told +you that before.”</p> +<p>“An inducement?” muttered Schomberg.</p> +<p>“Ay. The east coast of Africa isn’t good enough. +He told me the other day that it will have to wait till he is ready +for it; and he may not be ready for a long time, because the east coast +can’t run away, and no one is likely to run off with it.”</p> +<p>These remarks, whether considered as truisms or as depicting Mr. +Jones’s mental state, were distinctly discouraging to the long-suffering +Schomberg; but there is truth in the well-known saying that places the +darkest hour before the dawn. The sound of words, apart from the +context, has its power; and these two words, ‘run off,’ +had a special affinity to the hotel-keeper’s, haunting idea. +It was always present in his brain, and now it came forward evoked by +a purely fortuitous expression. No, nobody could run off with +a continent; but Heyst had run off with the girl!</p> +<p>Ricardo could have had no conception of the cause of Schomberg’s +changed expression. Yet it was noticeable enough to interest him +so much that he stopped the careless swinging of his leg and said, looking +at the hotel-keeper:</p> +<p>“There’s not much use arguing against that sort of talk +- is there?”</p> +<p>Schomberg was not listening.</p> +<p>“I could put you on another track,” he said slowly, and +stopped, as if suddenly choked by an unholy emotion of intense eagerness +combined with fear of failure. Ricardo waited, attentive, yet +not without a certain contempt.</p> +<p>“On the track of a man!” Schomberg uttered convulsively, +and paused again, consulting his rage and his conscience.</p> +<p>“The man in the moon, eh?” suggested Ricardo, in a jeering +murmur.</p> +<p>Schomberg shook his head.</p> +<p>“It would be nearly as safe to rook him as if he were the Man +in the moon. You go and try. It isn’t so very far.”</p> +<p>He reflected. These men were thieves and murderers as well +as gamblers. Their fitness for purposes of vengeance was appallingly +complete. But he preferred not to think of it in detail. +He put it to himself summarily that he would be paying Heyst out and +would, at the same time, relieve himself of these men’s oppression. +He had only to let loose his natural gift for talking scandalously about +his fellow creatures. And in this case his great practice in it +was assisted by hate, which, like love, has an eloquence of its own. +With the utmost ease he portrayed for Ricardo, now seriously attentive, +a Heyst fattened by years of private and public rapines, the murderer +of Morrison, the swindler of many shareholders, a wonderful mixture +of craft and impudence, of deep purposes and simple wiles, of mystery +and futility. In this exercise of his natural function Schomberg +revived, the colour coming back to his face, loquacious, florid, eager, +his manliness set off by the military bearing.</p> +<p>“That’s the exact story. He was seen hanging about +this part of the world for years, spying into everybody’s business: +but I am the only one who has seen through him from the first - contemptible, +double-faced, stick-at-nothing, dangerous fellow.”</p> +<p>“Dangerous, is he?”</p> +<p>Schomberg came to himself at the sound of Ricardo’s voice.</p> +<p>“Well, you know what I mean,” he said uneasily. +“A lying, circumventing, soft-spoken, polite, stuck-up rascal. +Nothing open about him.”</p> +<p>Mr Ricardo had slipped off the table, and was prowling about the +room in an oblique, noiseless manner. He flashed a grin at Schomberg +in passing, and a snarling:</p> +<p>“Ah! H’m!”</p> +<p>“Well, what more dangerous do you want?” argued Schomberg. +“He’s in no way a fighting man, I believe,” he added +negligently.</p> +<p>“And you say he has been living alone there?”</p> +<p>“Like the man in the moon,” answered Schomberg readily. +“There’s no one that cares a rap what becomes of him. +He has been lying low, you understand, after bagging all that plunder.</p> +<p>“Plunder, eh? Why didn’t he go home with it?” +inquired Ricardo.</p> +<p>The henchman of plain Mr. Jones was beginning to think that this +was something worth looking into. And he was pursuing truth in +the manner of men of sounder morality and purer intentions than his +own; that is he pursued it in the light of his own experience and prejudices. +For facts, whatever their origin (and God only knows where they come +from), can be only tested by our own particular suspicions. Ricardo +was suspicious all round. Schomberg, such is the tonic of recovered +self-esteem, Schomberg retorted fearlessly:</p> +<p>“Go home? Why don’t you go home? To hear +your talk, you must have made a pretty considerable pile going round +winning people’s money. You ought to be ready by this time.”</p> +<p>Ricardo stopped to look at Schomberg with surprise.</p> +<p>“You think yourself very clever, don’t you?” he +said.</p> +<p>Schomberg just then was so conscious of being clever that the snarling +irony left him unmoved. There was positively a smile in his noble +Teutonic beard, the first smile for weeks. He was in a felicitous +vein.</p> +<p>“How do you know that he wasn’t thinking of going home? +As a matter of fact, he was on his way home.”</p> +<p>“And how do I know that you are not amusing yourself by spinning +out a blamed fairy tale?” interrupted Ricardo roughly. “I +wonder at myself listening to the silly rot!”</p> +<p>Schomberg received this turn of temper unmoved. He did not +require to be very subtly observant to notice that he had managed to +arouse some sort of feeling, perhaps of greed, in Ricardo’s breast.</p> +<p>“You won’t believe me? Well! You can ask +anybody that comes here if that - that Swede hadn’t got as far +as this house on his way home. Why should he turn up here if not +for that? You ask anybody.”</p> +<p>“Ask, indeed!” returned the other. “Catch +me asking at large about a man I mean to drop on! Such jobs must +be done on the quiet - or not at all.”</p> +<p>The peculiar intonation of the last phrase touched the nape of Schomberg’s +neck with a chill. He cleared his throat slightly and looked away +as though he had heard something indelicate. Then, with a jump +as it were:</p> +<p>“Of course he didn’t tell me. Is it likely? +But haven’t I got eyes? Haven’t I got my common sense +to tell me? I can see through people. By the same token, +he called on the Tesmans. Why did he call on the Tesmans two days +running, eh? You don’t know? You can’t tell?”</p> +<p>He waited complacently till Ricardo had finished swearing quite openly +at him for a confounded chatterer, and then went on:</p> +<p>“A fellow doesn’t go to a counting-house in business +hours for a chat about the weather, two days running. Then why? +To close his account with them one day, and to get his money out the +next! Clear, what?”</p> +<p>Ricardo, with his trick of looking one way and moving another approached +Schomberg slowly.</p> +<p>“To get his money?” he purred.</p> +<p>“<i>Gewiss</i>,” snapped Schomberg with impatient superiority. +“What else? That is, only the money he had with the Tesmans. +What he has buried or put away on the island, devil only knows. +When you think of the lot of hard cash that passed through that man’s +hands, for wages and stores and all that - and he’s just a cunning +thief, I tell you.” Ricardo’s hard stare discomposed +the hotel-keeper, and he added in an embarrassed tone: “I mean +a common, sneaking thief - no account at all. And he calls himself +a Swedish baron, too! Tfui!”</p> +<p>“He’s a baron, is he? That foreign nobility ain’t +much,” commented Mr. Ricardo seriously. “And then +what? He hung about here!”</p> +<p>“Yes, he hung about,” said Schomberg, making a wry mouth. +“He - hung about. That’s it. Hung - ”</p> +<p>His voice died out. Curiosity was depicted in Ricardo’s +countenance.</p> +<p>“Just like that; for nothing? And then turned about and +went back to that island again?”</p> +<p>“And went back to that island again,” Schomberg echoed +lifelessly, fixing his gaze on the floor.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter with you?” asked Ricardo with +genuine surprise. “What is it?”</p> +<p>Schomberg, without looking up, made an impatient gesture. His +face was crimson, and he kept it lowered. Ricardo went back to +the point.</p> +<p>“Well, but how do you account for it? What was his reason? +What did he go back to the island for?”</p> +<p>“Honeymoon!” spat out Schomberg viciously.</p> +<p>Perfectly still, his eyes downcast, he suddenly, with no preliminary +stir, hit the table with his fist a blow which caused the utterly unprepared +Ricardo to leap aside. And only then did Schomberg look up with +a dull, resentful expression.</p> +<p>Ricardo stared hard for a moment, spun on his heel, walked to the +end of the room, came back smartly, and muttered a profound “Ay! +Ay!” above Schomberg’s rigid head. That the hotel-keeper +was capable of a great moral effort was proved by a gradual return of +his severe, Lieutenant-of-the-Reserve manner.</p> +<p>“Ay, ay!” repeated Ricardo more deliberately than before, +and as if after a further survey of the circumstances, “I wish +I hadn’t asked you, or that you had told me a lie. It don’t +suit me to know that there’s a woman mixed up in this affair. +What’s she like? It’s the girl you - ”</p> +<p>“Leave off!” muttered Schomberg, utterly pitiful behind +his stiff military front.</p> +<p>“Ay, ay!” Ricardo ejaculated for the third time, more +and more enlightened and perplexed. “Can’t bear to +talk about it - so bad as that? And yet I would bet she isn’t +a miracle to look at.”</p> +<p>Schomberg made a gesture as if he didn’t know, as if he didn’t +care. Then he squared his shoulders and frowned at vacancy.</p> +<p>“Swedish baron - h’m!” Ricardo continued meditatively. +“I believe the governor would think that business worth looking +up, quite, if I put it to him properly. The governor likes a duel, +if you will call it so; but I don’t know a man that can stand +up to him on the square. Have you ever seen a cat play with a +mouse? It’s a pretty sight!”</p> +<p>Ricardo, with his voluptuously gleaming eyes and the coy expression, +looked so much like a cat that Schomberg would have felt all the alarm +of a mouse if other feelings had not had complete possession of his +breast.</p> +<p>“There are no lies between you and me,” he said, more +steadily than he thought he could speak.</p> +<p>“What’s the good now? He funks women. In +that Mexican pueblo where we lay grounded on our beef-bones, so to speak, +I used to go to dances of an evening. The girls there would ask +me if the English <i>caballero</i> in the <i>posada</i> was a monk in +disguise, or if he had taken a vow to the <i>sancissima madre</i> not +to speak to a woman, or whether - You can imagine what fairly free-spoken +girls will ask when they come to the point of not caring what they say; +and it used to vex me. Yes, the governor funks facing women.”</p> +<p>“One woman?” interjected Schomberg in guttural tones.</p> +<p>“One may be more awkward to deal with than two, or two hundred, +for that matter. In a place that’s full of women you needn’t +look at them unless you like; but if you go into a room where there +is only one woman, young or old, pretty or ugly, you have got to face +her. And, unless you are after her, then - the governor is right +enough - she’s in the way.”</p> +<p>“Why notice them?” muttered Schomberg. “What +can they do?”</p> +<p>“Make a noise, if nothing else,” opined Mr. Ricardo curtly, +with the distaste of a man whose path is a path of silence; for indeed, +nothing is more odious than a noise when one is engaged in a weighty +and absorbing card game. “Noise, noise, my friend,” +he went on forcibly; “confounded screeching about something or +other, and I like it no more than the governor does. But with +the governor there’s something else besides. He can’t +stand them at all.”</p> +<p>He paused to reflect on this psychological phenomenon, and as no +philosopher was at hand to tell him that there is no strong sentiment +without some terror, as there is no real religion without a little fetishism, +he emitted his own conclusion, which surely could not go to the root +of the matter.</p> +<p>“I’m hanged if I don’t think they are to him what +liquor is to me. Brandy - pah!”</p> +<p>He made a disgusted face, and produced a genuine shudder. Schomberg +listened to him in wonder. It looked as if the very scoundrelism, +of that - that Swede would protect him; the spoil of his iniquity standing +between the thief and the retribution.</p> +<p>“That’s so, old buck.” Ricardo broke the +silence after contemplating Schomberg’s mute dejection with a +sort of sympathy. “I don’t think this trick will work.”</p> +<p>“But that’s silly,” whispered the man deprived +of the vengeance which he had seemed already to hold in his hand, by +a mysterious and exasperating idiosyncrasy.</p> +<p>“Don’t you set yourself to judge a gentleman.” +Ricardo without anger administered a moody rebuke. “Even +I can’t understand the governor thoroughly. And I am an +Englishman and his follower. No, I don’t think I care to +put it before him, sick as I am of staying here.”</p> +<p>Ricardo could not be more sick of staying than Schomberg was of seeing +him stay. Schomberg believed so firmly in the reality of Heyst +as created by his own power of false inferences, of his hate, of his +love of scandal, that he could not contain a stifled cry of conviction +as sincere as most of our convictions, the disguised servants of our +passions, can appear at a supreme moment.</p> +<p>“It would have been like going to pick up a nugget of a thousand +pounds, or two or three times as much, for all I know. No trouble, +no - ”</p> +<p>“The petticoat’s the trouble,” Ricardo struck in.</p> +<p>He had resumed his noiseless, feline, oblique prowling, in which +an observer would have detected a new character of excitement, such +as a wild animal of the cat species, anxious to make a spring, might +betray. Schomberg saw nothing. It would probably have cheered +his drooping spirits; but in a general way he preferred not to look +at Ricardo. Ricardo, however, with one of his slanting, gliding, +restless glances, observed the bitter smile on Schomberg’s bearded +lips - the unmistakable smile of ruined hopes.</p> +<p>“You are a pretty unforgiving sort of chap,” he said, +stopping for a moment with an air of interest. “Hang me +if I ever saw anybody look so disappointed! I bet you would send +black plague to that island if you only knew how - eh, what? Plague +too good for them? Ha, ha, ha!”</p> +<p>He bent down to stare at Schomberg who sat unstirring with stony +eyes and set features, and apparently deaf to the rasping derision of +that laughter so close to his red fleshy ear.</p> +<p>“Black plague too good for them, ha, ha!” Ricardo +pressed the point on the tormented hotel-keeper. Schomberg kept +his eyes down obstinately.</p> +<p>“I don’t wish any harm to the girl - ” he muttered.</p> +<p>“But did she bolt from you? A fair bilk? Come!”</p> +<p>“Devil only knows what that villainous Swede had done to her +- what he promised her, how he frightened her. She couldn’t +have cared for him, I know.” Schomberg’s vanity clung +to the belief in some atrocious, extraordinary means of seduction employed +by Heyst. “Look how he bewitched that poor Morrison,” +he murmured.</p> +<p>“Ah, Morrison - got all his money, what?”</p> +<p>“Yes - and his life.”</p> +<p>“Terrible fellow, that Swedish baron! How is one to get +at him?”</p> +<p>Schomberg exploded.</p> +<p>“Three against one! Are you shy? Do you want me +to give you a letter of introduction?”</p> +<p>“You ought to look at yourself in a glass,” Ricardo said +quietly. “Dash me if you don’t get a stroke of some +kind presently. And this is the fellow who says women can do nothing! +That one will do for you, unless you manage to forget her.”</p> +<p>“I wish I could,” Schomberg admitted earnestly. +“And it’s all the doing of that Swede. I don’t +get enough sleep, Mr. Ricardo. And then, to finish me off, you +gentlemen turn up . . . as if I hadn’t enough worry.”</p> +<p>“That’s done you good,” suggested the secretary +with ironic seriousness. “Takes your mind off that silly +trouble. At your age too.”</p> +<p>He checked himself, as if in pity, and changing his tone:</p> +<p>“I would really like to oblige you while doing a stroke of +business at the same time.”</p> +<p>“A good stroke,” insisted Schomberg, as if it were mechanically. +In his simplicity he was not able to give up the idea which had entered +his head. An idea must be driven out by another idea, and with +Schomberg ideas were rare and therefore tenacious. “Minted +gold,” he murmured with a sort of anguish.</p> +<p>Such an expressive combination of words was not without effect upon +Ricardo. Both these men were amenable to the influence of verbal +suggestions. The secretary of “plain Mr. Jones” sighed +and murmured.</p> +<p>“Yes. But how is one to get at it?”</p> +<p>“Being three to one,” said Schomberg, “I suppose +you could get it for the asking.”</p> +<p>“One would think the fellow lived next door,” Ricardo +growled impatiently. “Hang it all, can’t you understand +a plain question? I have asked you the way.”</p> +<p>Schomberg seemed to revive.</p> +<p>“The way?”</p> +<p>The torpor of deceived hopes underlying his superficial changes of +mood had been pricked by these words which seemed pointed with purpose.</p> +<p>“The way is over the water, of course,” said the hotel-keeper. +“For people like you, three days in a good, big boat is nothing. +It’s no more than a little outing, a bit of a change. At +this season the Java Sea is a pond. I have an excellent, safe +boat - a ship’s life-boat - carry thirty, let alone three, and +a child could handle her. You wouldn’t get a wet face at +this time of the year. You might call it a pleasure-trip.”</p> +<p>“And yet, having this boat, you didn’t go after her yourself +- or after him? Well, you are a fine fellow for a disappointed +lover.”</p> +<p>Schomberg gave a start at the suggestion.</p> +<p>“I am not three men,” he said sulkily, as the shortest +answer of the several he could have given.</p> +<p>“Oh, I know your sort,” Ricardo let fall negligently. +“You are like most people - or perhaps just a little more peaceable +than the rest of the buying and selling gang that bosses this rotten +show. Well, well, you respectable citizen,” he went on, +“let us go thoroughly into the matter.”</p> +<p>When Schomberg had been made to understand that Mr. Jones’s +henchman was ready to discuss, in his own words, “this boat of +yours, with courses and distances,” and such concrete matters +of no good augury to that villainous Swede, he recovered his soldierly +bearing, squared his shoulders, and asked in his military manner:</p> +<p>“You wish, then, to proceed with the business?”</p> +<p>Ricardo nodded. He had a great mind to, he said. A gentleman +had to be humoured as much as possible; but he must be managed, too, +on occasions, for his own good. And it was the business of the +right sort of “follower” to know the proper time and the +proper methods of that delicate part of his duty. Having exposed +this theory Ricardo proceeded to the application.</p> +<p>“I’ve never actually lied to him,” he said, “and +I ain’t going to now. I shall just say nothing about the +girl. He will have to get over the shock the best he can. +Hang it all! Too much humouring won’t do here.”</p> +<p>“Funny thing,” Schomberg observed crisply.</p> +<p>“Is it? Ay, you wouldn’t mind taking a woman by +the throat in some dark corner and nobody by, I bet!”</p> +<p>Ricardo’s dreadful, vicious, cat-like readiness to get his +claws out at any moment startled Schomberg as usual. But it was +provoking too.</p> +<p>“And you?” he defended himself. “Don’t +you want me to believe you are up to anything?”</p> +<p>“I, my boy? Oh, yes. I am not that gentleman; neither +are you. Take ’em by the throat or chuck ’em under +the chin is all one to me - almost,” affirmed Ricardo, with something +obscurely ironical in his complacency. “Now, as to this +business. A three days’ jaunt in a good boat isn’t +a thing to frighten people like us. You are right, so far; but +there are other details.”</p> +<p>Schomberg was ready enough to enter into details. He explained +that he had a small plantation, with a fairly habitable hut on it, on +Madura. He proposed that his guest should start from town in his +boat, as if going for an excursion to that rural spot. The custom-house +people on the quay were used to see his boat go off on such trips.</p> +<p>From Madura, after some repose and on a convenient day, Mr. Jones +and party would make the real start. It would all be plain sailing. +Schomberg undertook to provision the boat. The greatest hardship +the voyagers need apprehend would be a mild shower of rain. At +that season of the year there were no serious thunderstorms.</p> +<p>Schomberg’s heart began to thump as he saw himself nearing +his vengeance. His speech was thick but persuasive.</p> +<p>“No risk at all - none whatever.”</p> +<p>Ricardo dismissed these assurances of safety with an impatient gesture. +He was thinking of other risks.</p> +<p>“The getting away from here is all right; but we may be sighted +at sea, and that may bring awkwardness later on. A ship’s +boat with three white men in her, knocking about out of sight of land, +is bound to make talk. Are we likely to be seen on our way?”</p> +<p>“No, unless by native craft,” said Schomberg.</p> +<p>Ricardo nodded, satisfied. Both these white men looked on native +life as a mere play of shadows. A play of shadows the dominant +race could walk through unaffected and disregarded in the pursuit of +its incomprehensible aims and needs. No. Native craft did +not count, of course. It was an empty, solitary part of the sea, +Schomberg expounded further. Only the Ternate mail-boat crossed +that region about the eighth of every month, regularly - nowhere near +the island though. Rigid, his voice hoarse, his heart thumping, +his mind concentrated on the success of his plan, the hotel-keeper multiplied +words, as if to keep as many of them as possible between himself and +the murderous aspect of his purpose.</p> +<p>“So, if you gentlemen depart from my plantation quietly at +sunset on the eighth - always best to make a start at night, with a +land breeze - it’s a hundred to one - What am I saying? - it’s +a thousand to one that no human eye will see you on the passage. +All you’ve got to do is keep her heading north-east for, say, +fifty hours; perhaps not quite so long. There will always be draft +enough to keep a boat moving; you may reckon on that; and then - ”</p> +<p>The muscles about his waist quivered under his clothes with eagerness, +with impatience, and with something like apprehension, the true nature +of which was not clear to him. And he did not want to investigate +it. Ricardo regarded him steadily, with those dry eyes of his +shining more like polished stones than living tissue.</p> +<p>“And then what?” he asked.</p> +<p>“And then - why, you will astonish <i>der herr baron</i> - +ha, ha!”</p> +<p>Schomberg seemed to force the words and the laugh out of himself +in a hoarse bass.</p> +<p>“And you believe he has all that plunder by him?” asked +Ricardo, rather perfunctorily, because the fact seemed to him extremely +probable when looked at all round by his acute mind.</p> +<p>Schomberg raised his hands and lowered them slowly.</p> +<p>“How can it be otherwise? He was going home, he was on +his way, in this hotel. Ask people. Was it likely he would +leave it behind him?”</p> +<p>Ricardo was thoughtful. Then, suddenly raising his head, he +remarked:</p> +<p>“Steer north-east for fifty hours, eh? That’s not +much of a sailing direction. I’ve heard of a port being +missed before on better information. Can’t you say what +sort of landfall a fellow may expect? But I suppose you have never +seen that island yourself?”</p> +<p>Schomberg admitted that he had not seen it, in a tone in which a +man congratulates himself on having escaped the contamination of an +unsavoury experience. No, certainly not. He had never had +any business to call there. But what of that? He could give +Mr. Ricardo as good a sea-mark as anybody need wish for. He laughed +nervously. Miss it! He defied anyone that came within forty +miles of it to miss the retreat of that villainous Swede.</p> +<p>“What do you think of a pillar of smoke by day and a loom of +fire at night? There’s a volcano in full blast near that +island - enough to guide almost a blind man. What more do you +want? An active volcano to steer by?”</p> +<p>These last words he roared out exultingly, then jumped up and glared. +The door to the left of the bar had swung open, and Mrs. Schomberg, +dressed for duty, stood facing him down the whole length of the room. +She clung to the handle for a moment, then came in and glided to her +place, where she sat down to stare straight before her, as usual.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h2>PART THREE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER ONE</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Tropical nature had been kind to the failure of the commercial enterprise. +The desolation of the headquarters of the Tropical Belt Coal Company +had been screened from the side of the sea; from the side where prying +eyes - if any were sufficiently interested, either in malice or in sorrow +- could have noted the decaying bones of that once sanguine enterprise.</p> +<p>Heyst had been sitting among the bones buried so kindly in the grass +of two wet seasons’ growth. The silence of his surroundings, +broken only by such sounds as a distant roll of thunder, the lash of +rain through the foliage of some big trees, the noise of the wind tossing +the leaves of the forest, and of the short seas breaking against the +shore, favoured rather than hindered his solitary meditation.</p> +<p>A meditation is always - in a white man, at least - more or less +an interrogative exercise. Heyst meditated in simple terms on +the mystery of his actions; and he answered himself with the honest +reflection:</p> +<p>“There must be a lot of the original Adam in me, after all.”</p> +<p>He reflected, too, with the sense of making a discovery, that his +primeval ancestor is not easily suppressed. The oldest voice in +the world is just the one that never ceases to speak. If anybody +could have silenced its imperative echoes, it should have been Heyst’s +father, with his contemptuous, inflexible negation of all effort; but +apparently he could not. There was in the son a lot of that first +ancestor who, as soon as he could uplift his muddy frame from the celestial +mould, started inspecting and naming the animals of that paradise which +he was so soon to lose.</p> +<p>Action - the first thought, or perhaps the first impulse, on earth! +The barbed hook, baited with the illusions of progress, to bring out +of the lightless void the shoals of unnumbered generations!</p> +<p>“And I, the son of my father, have been caught too, like the +silliest fish of them all.” Heyst said to himself.</p> +<p>He suffered. He was hurt by the sight of his own life, which +ought to have been a masterpiece of aloofness. He remembered always +his last evening with his father. He remembered the thin features, +the great mass of white hair, and the ivory complexion. A five-branched +candlestick stood on a little table by the side of the easy chair. +They had been talking a long time. The noises of the street had +died out one by one, till at last, in the moonlight, the London houses +began to look like the tombs of an unvisited, unhonoured, cemetery of +hopes.</p> +<p>He had listened. Then, after a silence, he had asked - for +he was really young then:</p> +<p>“Is there no guidance?”</p> +<p>His father was in an unexpectedly soft mood on that night, when the +moon swam in a cloudless sky over the begrimed shadows of the town.</p> +<p>“You still believe in something, then?” he said in a +clear voice, which had been growing feeble of late. “You +believe in flesh and blood, perhaps? A full and equable contempt +would soon do away with that, too. But since you have not attained +to it, I advise you to cultivate that form of contempt which is called +pity. It is perhaps the least difficult - always remembering that +you, too, if you are anything, are as pitiful as the rest, yet never +expecting any pity for yourself.”</p> +<p>“What is one to do, then?” sighed the young man, regarding +his father, rigid in the high-backed chair.</p> +<p>“Look on - make no sound,” were the last words of the +man who had spent his life in blowing blasts upon a terrible trumpet +which filled heaven and earth with ruins, while mankind went on its +way unheeding.</p> +<p>That very night he died in his bed, so quietly that they found him +in his usual attitude of sleep, lying on his side, one hand under his +cheek, and his knees slightly bent. He had not even straightened +his legs.</p> +<p>His son buried the silenced destroyer of systems, of hopes, of beliefs. +He observed that the death of that bitter contemner of life did not +trouble the flow of life’s stream, where men and women go by thick +as dust, revolving and jostling one another like figures cut out of +cork and weighted with lead just sufficiently to keep them in their +proudly upright posture.</p> +<p>After the funeral, Heyst sat alone, in the dusk, and his meditation +took the form of a definite vision of the stream, of the fatuously jostling, +nodding, spinning figures hurried irresistibly along, and giving no +sign of being aware that the voice on the bank had been suddenly silenced +. . . Yes. A few obituary notices generally insignificant and +some grossly abusive. The son had read them all with mournful +detachment.</p> +<p>“This is the hate and rage of their fear,” he thought +to himself, “and also of wounded vanity. They shriek their +little shriek as they fly past. I suppose I ought to hate him +too . . . ”</p> +<p>He became aware of his eyes being wet. It was not that the +man was his father. For him it was purely a matter of hearsay +which could not in itself cause this emotion. No! It was +because he had looked at him so long that he missed him so much. +The dead man had kept him on the bank by his side. And now Heyst +felt acutely that he was alone on the bank of the stream. In his +pride he determined not to enter it.</p> +<p>A few slow tears rolled down his face. The rooms, filling with +shadows, seemed haunted by a melancholy, uneasy presence which could +not express itself. The young man got up with a strange sense +of making way for something impalpable that claimed possession, went +out of the house, and locked the door. A fortnight later he started +on his travels - to “look on and never make a sound.”</p> +<p>The elder Heyst had left behind him a little money and a certain +quantity of movable objects, such as books, tables, chairs, and pictures, +which might have complained of heartless desertion after many years +of faithful service; for there is a soul in things. Heyst, our +Heyst, had often thought of them, reproachful and mute, shrouded and +locked up in those rooms, far away in London with the sounds of the +street reaching them faintly, and sometimes a little sunshine, when +the blinds were pulled up and the windows opened from time to time in +pursuance of his original instructions and later reminders. It +seemed as if in his conception of a world not worth touching, and perhaps +not substantial enough to grasp, these objects familiar to his childhood +and his youth, and associated with the memory of an old man, were the +only realities, something having an absolute existence. He would +never have them sold, or even moved from the places they occupied when +he looked upon them last. When he was advised from London that +his lease had expired, and that the house, with some others as like +it as two peas, was to be demolished, he was surprisingly distressed.</p> +<p>He had entered by then the broad, human path of inconsistencies. +Already the Tropical Belt Coal Company was in existence. He sent +instructions to have some of the things sent out to him at Samburan, +just as any ordinary, credulous person would have done. They came, +torn out from their long repose - a lot of books, some chairs and tables, +his father’s portrait in oils, which surprised Heyst by its air +of youth, because he remembered his father as a much older man; a lot +of small objects, such as candlesticks, inkstands, and statuettes from +his father’s study, which surprised him because they looked so +old and so much worn.</p> +<p>The manager of the Tropical Belt Coal Company, unpacking them on +the veranda in the shade besieged by a fierce sunshine, must have felt +like a remorseful apostate before these relics. He handled them +tenderly; and it was perhaps their presence there which attached him +to the island when he woke up to the failure of his apostasy. +Whatever the decisive reason, Heyst had remained where another would +have been glad to be off. The excellent Davidson had discovered +the fact without discovering the reason, and took a humane interest +in Heyst’s strange existence, while at the same time his native +delicacy kept him from intruding on the other’s whim of solitude. +He could not possibly guess that Heyst, alone on the island, felt neither +more nor less lonely than in any other place, desert or populous. +Davidson’s concern was, if one may express it so, the danger of +spiritual starvation; but this was a spirit which had renounced all +outside nourishment, and was sustaining itself proudly on its own contempt +of the usual coarse ailments which life offers to the common appetites +of men.</p> +<p>Neither was Heyst’s body in danger of starvation, as Schomberg +had so confidently asserted. At the beginning of the company’s +operations the island had been provisioned in a manner which had outlasted +the need. Heyst did not need to fear hunger; and his very loneliness +had not been without some alleviation. Of the crowd of imported +Chinese labourers, one at least had remained in Samburan, solitary and +strange, like a swallow left behind at the migrating season of his tribe.</p> +<p>Wang was not a common coolie. He had been a servant to white +men before. The agreement between him and Heyst consisted in the +exchange of a few words on the day when the last batch of the mine coolies +was leaving Samburan. Heyst, leaning over the balustrade of the +veranda, was looking on, as calm in appearance as though he had never +departed from the doctrine that this world, for the wise, is nothing +but an amusing spectacle. Wang came round the house, and standing +below, raised up his yellow, thin face.</p> +<p>“All finished?” he asked. Heyst nodded slightly +from above, glancing towards the jetty. A crowd of blue-clad figures +with yellow faces and calves was being hustled down into the boats of +the chartered steamer lying well out, like a painted ship on a painted +sea; painted in crude colours, without shadows, without feeling, with +brutal precision.</p> +<p>“You had better hurry up if you don’t want to be left +behind.”</p> +<p>But the Chinaman did not move.</p> +<p>“We stop,” he declared. Heyst looked down at him +for the first time.</p> +<p>“You want to stop here?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“What were you? What was your work here?”</p> +<p>“Mess-loom boy.”</p> +<p>“Do you want to stay with me here as my boy?” inquired +Heyst, surprised.</p> +<p>The Chinaman unexpectedly put on a deprecatory expression, and said, +after a marked pause:</p> +<p>“Can do.”</p> +<p>“You needn’t,” said Heyst, “unless you like. +I propose to stay on here - it may be for a very long time. I +have no power to make you go if you wish to remain, but I don’t +see why you should.”</p> +<p>“Catchee one piecee wife,” remarked Wang unemotionally, +and marched off, turning his back on the wharf and the great world beyond, +represented by the steamer waiting for her boats.</p> +<p>Heyst learned presently that Wang had persuaded one of the women +of Alfuro village, on the west shore of the island, beyond the central +ridge, to come over to live with him in a remote part of the company’s +clearing. It was a curious case, inasmuch as the Alfuros, having +been frightened by the sudden invasion of Chinamen, had blocked the +path over the ridge by felling a few trees, and had kept strictly on +their own side. The coolies, as a body, mistrusting the manifest +mildness of these harmless fisher-folk, had kept to their lines, without +attempting to cross the island. Wang was the brilliant exception. +He must have been uncommonly fascinating, in a way that was not apparent +to Heyst, or else uncommonly persuasive. The woman’s services +to Heyst were limited to the fact that she had anchored Wang to the +spot by her charms, which remained unknown to the white man, because +she never came near the houses. The couple lived at the edge of +the forest, and she could sometimes be seen gazing towards the bungalow +shading her eyes with her hand. Even from a distance she appeared +to be a shy, wild creature, and Heyst, anxious not to try her primitive +nerves unduly, scrupulously avoided that side of the clearing in his +strolls.</p> +<p>The day - or rather the first night - after his hermit life began, +he was aware of vague sounds of revelry in that direction. Emboldened +by the departure of the invading strangers, some Alfuros, the woman’s +friends and relations, had ventured over the ridge to attend something +in the nature of a wedding feast. Wang had invited them. +But this was the only occasion when any sound louder than the buzzing +of insects had troubled the profound silence of the clearing. +The natives were never invited again. Wang not, only knew how +to live according to conventional proprieties, but had strong personal +views as to the manner of arranging his domestic existence. After +a time Heyst perceived that Wang had annexed all the keys. Any +keys left lying about vanished after Wang had passed that way. +Subsequently some of them - those that did not belong to the store-rooms +and the empty bungalows, and could not be regarded as the common property +of this community of two - were returned to Heyst, tied in a bunch with +a piece of string. He found them one morning lying by the side +of his plate. He had not been inconvenienced by their absence, +because he never locked up anything in the way of drawers and boxes. +Heyst said nothing. Wang also said nothing. Perhaps he had +always been a taciturn man; perhaps he was influenced by the genius +of the locality, which was certainly that of silence. Till Heyst +and Morrison had landed in Black Diamond Bay, and named it, that side +of Samburan had hardly ever heard the sound of human speech. It +was easy to be taciturn with Heyst, who had plunged himself into an +abyss of meditation over books, and remained in it till the shadow of +Wang falling across the page, and the sound of a rough, low voice uttering +the Malay word “<i>makan</i>,” would force him to climb +out to a meal.</p> +<p>Wang in his native province in China might have been an aggressively, +sensitively genial person; but in Samburan he had clothed himself in +a mysterious stolidity and did not seem to resent not being spoken to +except in single words, at a rate which did not average half a dozen +per day. And he gave no more than he got. It is to be presumed +that if he suffered he made up for it with the Alfuro woman. He +always went back to her at the first fall of dusk, vanishing from the +bungalow suddenly at this hour, like a sort of topsy-turvy, day-hunting, +Chinese ghost with a white jacket and a pigtail. Presently, giving +way to a Chinaman’s ruling passion, he could be observed breaking +the ground near his hut, between the mighty stumps of felled trees, +with a miner’s pickaxe. After a time, he discovered a rusty +but serviceable spade in one of the empty store-rooms, and it is to +be supposed that he got on famously; but nothing of it could be seen, +because he went to the trouble of pulling to pieces one of the company’s +sheds in order to get materials for making a high and very close fence +round his patch, as if the growing of vegetables were a patented process, +or an awful and holy mystery entrusted to the keeping of his race.</p> +<p>Heyst, following from a distance the progress of Wang’s gardening +and of these precautions - there was nothing else to look at - was amused +at the thought that he, in his own person, represented the market for +its produce. The Chinaman had found several packets of seeds in +the store-rooms, and had surrendered to an irresistible impulse to put +them into the ground. He would make his master pay for the vegetables +which he was raising to satisfy his instinct. And, looking silently +at the silent Wang going about his work in the bungalow in his unhasty, +steady way; Heyst envied the Chinaman’s obedience to his instincts, +the powerful simplicity of purpose which made his existence appear almost +automatic in the mysterious precision of its facts.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER TWO</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>During his master’s absence at Sourabaya, Wang had busied himself +with the ground immediately in front of the principal bungalow. +Emerging from the fringe of grass growing across the shore end of the +coal-jetty, Heyst beheld a broad, clear space, black and level, with +only one or two clumps of charred twigs, where the flame had swept from +the front of his house to the nearest trees of the forest.</p> +<p>“You took the risk of firing the grass?” Heyst asked.</p> +<p>Wang nodded. Hanging on the arm of the white man before whom +he stood was the girl called Alma; but neither from the Chinaman’s +eyes nor from his expression could anyone have guessed that he was in +the slightest degree aware of the fact.</p> +<p>“He has been tidying the place in his labour-saving way,” +explained Heyst, without looking at the girl, whose hand rested on his +forearm. “He’s the whole establishment, you see. +I told you I hadn’t even a dog to keep me company here.”</p> +<p>Wang had marched off towards the wharf.</p> +<p>“He’s like those waiters in that place,” she said. +That place was Schomberg’s hotel.</p> +<p>“One Chinaman looks very much like another,” Heyst remarked. +“We shall find it useful to have him here. This is the house.”</p> +<p>They faced, at some distance, the six shallow steps leading up to +the veranda. The girl had abandoned Heyst’s arm.</p> +<p>“This is the house,” he repeated.</p> +<p>She did not offer to budge away from his side, but stood staring +fixedly at the steps, as if they had been something unique and impracticable. +He waited a little, but she did not move.</p> +<p>“Don’t you want to go in?” he asked, without turning +his head to look at her. “The sun’s too heavy to stand +about here.” He tried to overcome a sort of fear, a sort +of impatient faintness, and his voice sounded rough. “You +had better go in,” he concluded.</p> +<p>They both moved then, but at the foot of the stairs Heyst stopped, +while the girl went on rapidly, as if nothing could stop her now. +She crossed the veranda swiftly, and entered the twilight of the big +central room opening upon it, and then the deeper twilight of the room +beyond. She stood still in the dusk, in which her dazzled eyes +could scarcely make out the forms of objects, and sighed a sigh of relief. +The impression of the sunlight, of sea and sky, remained with her like +a memory of a painful trial gone through - done with at last!</p> +<p>Meanwhile Heyst had walked back slowly towards the jetty; but he +did not get so far as that. The practical and automatic Wang had +got hold of one of the little trucks that had been used for running +baskets of coal alongside ships. He appeared pushing it before +him, loaded lightly with Heyst’s bag and the bundle of the girl’s +belongings, wrapped in Mrs. Schomberg’s shawl. Heyst turned +about and walked by the side of the rusty rails on which the truck ran. +Opposite the house Wang stopped, lifted the bag to his shoulder, balanced +it carefully, and then took the bundle in his hand.</p> +<p>“Leave those things on the table in the big room - understand?”</p> +<p>“Me savee,” grunted Wang, moving off.</p> +<p>Heyst watched the Chinaman disappear from the veranda. It was +not till he had seen Wang come out that he himself entered the twilight +of the big room. By that time Wang was out of sight at the back +of the house, but by no means out of hearing. The Chinaman could +hear the voice of him who, when there were many people there, was generally +referred to as “Number One.” Wang was not able to +understand the words, but the tone interested him.</p> +<p>“Where are you?” cried Number One.</p> +<p>Then Wang heard, much more faint, a voice he had never heard before +- a novel impression which he acknowledged by cocking his head slightly +to one side.</p> +<p>“I am here - out of the sun.”</p> +<p>The new voice sounded remote and uncertain. Wang heard nothing +more, though he waited for some time, very still, the top of his shaven +poll exactly level with the floor of the back veranda. His face +meanwhile preserved an inscrutable immobility. Suddenly he stooped +to pick up the lid of a deal candle-box which was lying on the ground +by his foot. Breaking it up with his fingers, he directed his +steps towards the cook-shed, where, squatting on his heels, he proceeded +to kindle a small fire under a very sooty kettle, possibly to make tea. +Wang had some knowledge of the more superficial rites and ceremonies +of white men’s existence, otherwise so enigmatically remote to +his mind, and containing unexpected possibilities of good and evil, +which had to be watched for with prudence and care.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER THREE</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>That morning, as on all the others of the full tale of mornings since +his return with the girl to Samburan, Heyst came out on the veranda +and spread his elbows on the railing, in an easy attitude of proprietorship. +The bulk of the central ridge of the island cut off the bungalow from +sunrises, whether glorious or cloudy, angry or serene. The dwellers +therein were debarred from reading early the fortune of the new-born +day. It sprang upon them in its fulness with a swift retreat of +the great shadow when the sun, clearing the ridge, looked down, hot +and dry, with a devouring glare like the eye of an enemy. But +Heyst, once the Number One of this locality, while it was comparatively +teeming with mankind, appreciated the prolongation of early coolness, +the subdued, lingering half-light, the faint ghost of the departed night, +the fragrance of its dewy, dark soul captured for a moment longer between +the great glow of the sky and the intense blaze of the uncovered sea.</p> +<p>It was naturally difficult for Heyst to keep his mind from dwelling +on the nature and consequences of this, his latest departure from the +part of an unconcerned spectator. Yet he had retained enough of +his wrecked philosophy to prevent him from asking himself consciously +how it would end. But at the same time he could not help being +temperamentally, from long habit and from set purpose, a spectator still, +perhaps a little less naïve but (as he discovered with some surprise) +not much more far sighted than the common run of men. Like the +rest of us who act, all he could say to himself, with a somewhat affected +grimness, was:</p> +<p>“We shall see!”</p> +<p>This mood of grim doubt intruded on him only when he was alone. +There were not many such moments in his day now; and he did not like +them when they came. On this morning he had no time to grow uneasy. +Alma came out to join him long before the sun, rising above the Samburan +ridge, swept the cool shadow of the early morning and the remnant of +the night’s coolness clear off the roof under which they had dwelt +for more than three months already. She came out as on other mornings. +He had heard her light footsteps in the big room - the room where he +had unpacked the cases from London; the room now lined with the backs +of books halfway up on its three sides. Above the cases the fine +matting met the ceiling of tightly stretched white calico. In +the dusk and coolness nothing gleamed except the gilt frame of the portrait +of Heyst’s father, signed by a famous painter, lonely in the middle +of a wall.</p> +<p>Heyst did not turn round.</p> +<p>“Do you know what I was thinking of?” he asked.</p> +<p>“No,” she said. Her tone betrayed always a shade +of anxiety, as though she were never certain how a conversation with +him would end. She leaned on the guard-rail by his side.</p> +<p>“No,” she repeated. “What was it?” +She waited. Then, rather with reluctance than shyness, she asked:</p> +<p>“Were you thinking of me?”</p> +<p>“I was wondering when you would come out,” said Heyst, +still without looking at the girl - to whom, after several experimental +essays in combining detached letters and loose syllables, he had given +the name of Lena.</p> +<p>She remarked after a pause:</p> +<p>“I was not very far from you.”</p> +<p>“Apparently you were not near enough for me.”</p> +<p>“You could have called if you wanted me,” she said. +“And I wasn’t so long doing my hair.”</p> +<p>“Apparently it was too long for me.”</p> +<p>“Well, you were thinking of me, anyhow. I am glad of +it. Do you know, it seems to me, somehow, that if you were to +stop thinking of me I shouldn’t be in the world at all!”</p> +<p>He turned round and looked at her. She often said things which +surprised him. A vague smile faded away on her lips before his +scrutiny.</p> +<p>“What is it?” he asked. “It is a reproach?”</p> +<p>“A reproach! Why, how could it be?” she defended +herself.</p> +<p>“Well, what did it mean?” he insisted.</p> +<p>“What I said - just what I said. Why aren’t you +fair?”</p> +<p>“Ah, this is at least a reproach!”</p> +<p>She coloured to the roots of her hair.</p> +<p>“It looks as if you were trying to make out that I am disagreeable,” +she murmured. “Am I? You will make me afraid to open +my mouth presently. I shall end by believing I am no good.”</p> +<p>Her head drooped a little. He looked at her smooth, low brow, +the faintly coloured checks, and the red lips parted slightly, with +the gleam of her teeth within.</p> +<p>“And then I won’t be any good,” she added with +conviction. “That I won’t! I can only be what +you think I am.”</p> +<p>He made a slight movement. She put her hand on his arm, without +raising her head, and went on, her voice animated in the stillness of +her body:</p> +<p>“It is so. It couldn’t be any other way with a +girl like me and a man like you. Here we are, we two alone, and +I can’t even tell where we are.”</p> +<p>“A very well-known spot of the globe,” Heyst uttered +gently. “There must have been at least fifty thousand circulars +issued at the time - a hundred and fifty thousand, more likely. +My friend was looking after that, and his ideas were large and his belief +very strong. Of us two it was he who had the faith. A hundred +and fifty thousand, certainly.”</p> +<p>“What is it you mean?” she asked in a low tone.</p> +<p>“What should I find fault with you for?” Heyst went on. +“For being amiable, good, gracious - and pretty?”</p> +<p>A silence fell. Then she said:</p> +<p>“It’s all right that you should think that of me. +There’s no one here to think anything of us, good or bad.”</p> +<p>The rare timbre of her voice gave a special value to what she uttered. +The indefinable emotion which certain intonations gave him, he was aware, +was more physical than moral. Every time she spoke to him she +seemed to abandon to him something of herself - something excessively +subtle and inexpressible, to which he was infinitely sensible, which +he would have missed horribly if she were to go away. While he +was looking into her eyes she raised her bare forearm, out of the short +sleeve, and held it in the air till he noticed it and hastened to pose +his great bronze moustaches on the whiteness of the skin. Then +they went in.</p> +<p>Wang immediately appeared in front, and, squatting on his heels, +began to potter mysteriously about some plants at the foot of the veranda. +When Heyst and the girl came out again, the Chinaman had gone in his +peculiar manner, which suggested vanishing out of existence rather than +out of sight, a process of evaporation rather than of movement. +They descended the steps, looking at each other, and started off smartly +across the cleared ground; but they were not ten yards away when, without +perceptible stir or sound, Wang materialized inside the empty room. +The Chinaman stood still with roaming eyes, examining the walls as if +for signs, for inscriptions; exploring the floor as if for pitfalls, +for dropped coins. Then he cocked his head slightly at the profile +of Heyst’s father, pen in hand above a white sheet of paper on +a crimson tablecloth; and, moving forward noiselessly, began to clear +away the breakfast things.</p> +<p>Though he proceeded without haste, the unerring precision of his +movements, the absolute soundlessness of the operation, gave it something +of the quality of a conjuring trick. And, the trick having been +performed, Wang vanished from the scene, to materialize presently in +front of the house. He materialized walking away from it, with +no visible or guessable intention; but at the end of some ten paces +he stopped, made a half turn, and put his hand up to shade his eyes. +The sun had topped the grey ridge of Samburan. The great morning +shadow was gone; and far away in the devouring sunshine Wang was in +time to see Number One and the woman, two remote white specks against +the sombre line of the forest. In a moment they vanished. +With the smallest display of action, Wang also vanished from the sunlight +of the clearing.</p> +<p>Heyst and Lena entered the shade of the forest path which crossed +the island, and which, near its highest point had been blocked by felled +trees. But their intention was not to go so far. After keeping +to the path for some distance, they left it at a point where the forest +was bare of undergrowth, and the trees, festooned with creepers, stood +clear of one another in the gloom of their own making. Here and +there great splashes of light lay on the ground. They moved, silent +in the great stillness, breathing the calmness, the infinite isolation, +the repose of a slumber without dreams. They emerged at the upper +limit of vegetation, among some rocks; and in a depression of the sharp +slope, like a small platform, they turned about and looked from on high +over the sea, lonely, its colour effaced by sunshine, its horizon a +heat mist, a mere unsubstantial shimmer in the pale and blinding infinity +overhung by the darker blaze of the sky.</p> +<p>“It makes my head swim,” the girl murmured, shutting +her eyes and putting her hand on his shoulder.</p> +<p>Heyst, gazing fixedly to the southward, exclaimed:</p> +<p>“Sail ho!”</p> +<p>A moment of silence ensued.</p> +<p>“It must be very far away,” he went on. “I +don’t think you could see it. Some native craft making for +the Moluccas, probably. Come, we mustn’t stay here.”</p> +<p>With his arm round her waist, he led her down a little distance, +and they settled themselves in the shade; she, seated on the ground, +he a little lower, reclining at her feet.</p> +<p>“You don’t like to look at the sea from up there?” +he said after a time.</p> +<p>She shook her head. That empty space was to her the abomination +of desolation. But she only said again:</p> +<p>“It makes my head swim.”</p> +<p>“Too big?” he inquired.</p> +<p>“Too lonely. It makes my heart sink, too,” she +added in a low voice, as if confessing a secret.</p> +<p>“I’m am afraid,” said Heyst, “that you would +be justified in reproaching me for these sensations. But what +would you have?”</p> +<p>His tone was playful, but his eyes, directed at her face, were serious. +She protested.</p> +<p>“I am not feeling lonely with you - not a bit. It is +only when we come up to that place, and I look at all that water and +all that light - ”</p> +<p>“We will never come here again, then,” he interrupted +her.</p> +<p>She remained silent for a while, returning his gaze till he removed +it.</p> +<p>“It seems as if everything that there is had gone under,” +she said.</p> +<p>“Reminds you of the story of the deluge,” muttered the +man, stretched at her feet and looking at them. “Are you +frightened at it?”</p> +<p>“I should be rather frightened to be left behind alone. +When I say, I, of course I mean we.”</p> +<p>“Do you?” . . . Heyst remained silent for a while. +“The vision of a world destroyed,” he mused aloud. +“Would you be sorry for it?”</p> +<p>“I should be sorry for the happy people in it,” she said +simply.</p> +<p>His gaze travelled up her figure and reached her face, where he seemed +to detect the veiled glow of intelligence, as one gets a glimpse of +the sun through the clouds.</p> +<p>“I should have thought it’s they specially who ought +to have been congratulated. Don’t you?”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes - I understand what you mean; but there were forty +days before it was all over.”</p> +<p>“You seem to be in possession of all the details.”</p> +<p>Heyst spoke just to say something rather than to gaze at her in silence. +She was not looking at him.</p> +<p>“Sunday school,” she murmured. “I went regularly +from the time I was eight till I was thirteen. We lodged in the +north of London, off Kingsland Road. It wasn’t a bad time. +Father was earning good money then. The woman of the house used +to pack me off in the afternoon with her own girls. She was a +good woman. Her husband was in the post office. Sorter or +something. Such a quiet man. He used to go off after supper +for night-duty, sometimes. Then one day they had a row, and broke +up the home. I remember I cried when we had to pack up all of +a sudden and go into other lodgings. I never knew what it was, +though - ”</p> +<p>“The deluge,” muttered Heyst absently.</p> +<p>He felt intensely aware of her personality, as if this were the first +moment of leisure he had found to look at her since they had come together. +The peculiar timbre of her voice, with its modulations of audacity and +sadness, would have given interest to the most inane chatter. +But she was no chatterer. She was rather silent, with a capacity +for immobility, an upright stillness, as when resting on the concert +platform between the musical numbers, her feet crossed, her hands reposing +on her lap. But in the intimacy of their life her grey, unabashed +gaze forced upon him the sensation of something inexplicable reposing +within her; stupidity or inspiration, weakness or force - or simply +an abysmal emptiness, reserving itself even in the moments of complete +surrender.</p> +<p>During a long pause she did not look at him. Then suddenly, +as if the word “deluge” had stuck in her mind, she asked, +looking up at the cloudless sky:</p> +<p>“Does it ever rain here?”</p> +<p>“There is a season when it rains almost every day,” said +Heyst, surprised. “There are also thunderstorms. We +once had a ‘mud-shower.’”</p> +<p>“Mud-shower?”</p> +<p>“Our neighbour there was shooting up ashes. He sometimes +clears his red-hot gullet like that; and a thunderstorm came along at +the same time. It was very messy; but our neighbour is generally +well behaved - just smokes quietly, as he did that day when I first +showed you the smudge in the sky from the schooner’s deck. +He’s a good-natured, lazy fellow of a volcano.”</p> +<p>“I saw a mountain smoking like that before,” she said, +staring at the slender stem of a tree-fern some dozen feet in front +of her. “It wasn’t very long after we left England +- some few days, though. I was so ill at first that I lost count +of days. A smoking mountain - I can’t think how they called +it.”</p> +<p>“Vesuvius, perhaps,” suggested Heyst.</p> +<p>“That’s the name.”</p> +<p>“I saw it, too, years, ages ago,” said Heyst.</p> +<p>“On your way here?”</p> +<p>“No, long before I ever thought of coming into this part of +the world. I was yet a boy.”</p> +<p>She turned and looked at him attentively, as if seeking to discover +some trace of that boyhood in the mature face of the man with the hair +thin at the top and the long, thick moustaches. Heyst stood the +frank examination with a playful smile, hiding the profound effect these +veiled grey eyes produced - whether on his heart or on his nerves, whether +sensuous or spiritual, tender or irritating, he was unable to say.</p> +<p>“Well, princess of Samburan,” he said at last, “have +I found favour in your sight?”</p> +<p>She seemed to wake up, and shook her head.</p> +<p>“I was thinking,” she murmured very low.</p> +<p>“Thought, action - so many snares! If you begin to think +you will be unhappy.”</p> +<p>“I wasn’t thinking of myself!” she declared with +a simplicity which took Heyst aback somewhat.</p> +<p>“On the lips of a moralist this would sound like a rebuke,” +he said, half seriously; “but I won’t suspect you of being +one. Moralists and I haven’t been friends for many years.”</p> +<p>She had listened with an air of attention.</p> +<p>“I understood you had no friends,” she said. “I +am pleased that there’s nobody to find fault with you for what +you have done. I like to think that I am in no one’s way.”</p> +<p>Heyst would have said something, but she did not give him time. +Unconscious of the movement he made she went on:</p> +<p>“What I was thinking to myself was, why are you here?”</p> +<p>Heyst let himself sink on his elbow again.</p> +<p>“If by ‘you’ you mean ‘we’ - well, +you know why we are here.”</p> +<p>She bent her gaze down at him.</p> +<p>“No, it isn’t that. I meant before - all that time +before you came across me and guessed at once that I was in trouble, +with no one to turn to. And you know it was desperate trouble +too.”</p> +<p>Her voice fell on the last words, as if she would end there; but +there was something so expectant in Heyst’s attitude as he sat +at her feet, looking up at her steadily, that she continued, after drawing +a short, quick breath:</p> +<p>“It was, really. I told you I had been worried before +by bad fellows. It made me unhappy, disturbed - angry, too. +But oh, how I hated, hated, <i>hated</i> that man!”</p> +<p>“That man” was the florid Schomberg with the military +bearing, benefactor of white men (‘decent food to eat in decent +company’) - mature victim of belated passion. The girl shuddered. +The characteristic harmoniousness of her face became, as it were, decomposed +for an instant. Heyst was startled.</p> +<p>“Why think of it now?” he cried.</p> +<p>“It’s because I was cornered that time. It wasn’t +as before. It was worse, ever so much. I wished I could +die of my fright - and yet it’s only now that I begin to understand +what a horror it might have been. Yes, only now, since we - ”</p> +<p>Heyst stirred a little.</p> +<p>“Came here,” he finished.</p> +<p>Her tenseness relaxed, her flushed face went gradually back to its +normal tint.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she said indifferently, but at the same time she +gave him a stealthy glance of passionate appreciation; and then her +face took on a melancholy cast, her whole figure drooped imperceptibly.</p> +<p>“But you were coming back here anyhow?” she asked.</p> +<p>“Yes. I was only waiting for Davidson. Yes, I was +coming back here, to these ruins - to Wang, who perhaps did not expect +to see me again. It’s impossible to guess at the way that +Chinaman draws his conclusions, and how he looks upon one.”</p> +<p>“Don’t talk about him. He makes me feel uncomfortable. +Talk about yourself!”</p> +<p>“About myself? I see you are still busy with the mystery +of my existence here; but it isn’t at all mysterious. Primarily +the man with the quill pen in his hand in that picture you so often +look at is responsible for my existence. He is also responsible +for what my existence is, or rather has been. He was a great man +in his way. I don’t know much of his history. I suppose +he began like other people; took fine words for good, ringing coin and +noble ideals for valuable banknotes. He was a great master of +both, himself, by the way. Later he discovered - how am I to explain +it to you? Suppose the world were a factory and all mankind workmen +in it. Well, he discovered that the wages were not good enough. +That they were paid in counterfeit money.”</p> +<p>“I see!” the girl said slowly.</p> +<p>“Do you?”</p> +<p>Heyst, who had been speaking as if to himself, looked up curiously.</p> +<p>“It wasn’t a new discovery, but he brought his capacity +for scorn to bear on it. It was immense. It ought to have +withered this globe. I don’t know how many minds he convinced. +But my mind was very young then, and youth I suppose can be easily seduced +- even by a negation. He was very ruthless, and yet he was not +without pity. He dominated me without difficulty. A heartless +man could not have done so. Even to fools he was not utterly merciless. +He could be indignant, but he was too great for flouts and jeers. +What he said was not meant for the crowd; it could not be; and I was +flattered to find myself among the elect. They read his books, +but I have heard his living word. It was irresistible. It +was as if that mind were taking me into its confidence, giving me a +special insight into its mastery of despair. Mistake, no doubt. +There is something of my father in every man who lives long enough. +But they don’t say anything. They can’t. They +wouldn’t know how, or perhaps, they wouldn’t speak if they +could. Man on this earth is an unforeseen accident which does +not stand close investigation. However, that particular man died +as quietly as a child goes to sleep. But, after listening to him, +I could not take my soul down into the street to fight there. +I started off to wander about, an independent spectator - if that is +possible.”</p> +<p>For a long time the girl’s grey eyes had been watching his +face. She discovered that, addressing her, he was really talking +to himself. Heyst looked up, caught sight of her as it were, and +caught himself up, with a low laugh and a change of tone.</p> +<p>“All this does not tell you why I ever came here. Why, +indeed? It’s like prying into inscrutable mysteries which +are not worth scrutinizing. A man drifts. The most successful +men have drifted into their successes. I don’t want to tell +you that this is a success. You wouldn’t believe me if I +did. It isn’t; neither is it the ruinous failure it looks. +It proves nothing, unless perhaps some hidden weakness in my character +- and even that is not certain.”</p> +<p>He looked fixedly at her, and with such grave eyes that she felt +obliged to smile faintly at him, since she did not understand what he +meant. Her smile was reflected, still fainter, on his lips.</p> +<p>“This does not advance you much in your inquiry,” he +went on. “And in truth your question is unanswerable; but +facts have a certain positive value, and I will tell you a fact. +One day I met a cornered man. I use the word because it expresses +the man’s situation exactly, and because you just used it yourself. +You know what that means?”</p> +<p>“What do you say?” she whispered, astounded. “A +man!”</p> +<p>Heyst laughed at her wondering eyes.</p> +<p>“No! No! I mean in his own way.”</p> +<p>“I knew very well it couldn’t be anything like that,” +she observed under her breath.</p> +<p>“I won’t bother you with the story. It was a custom-house +affair, strange as it may sound to you. He would have preferred +to be killed outright - that is, to have his soul dispatched to another +world, rather than to be robbed of his substance, his very insignificant +substance, in this. I saw that he believed in another world because, +being cornered, as I have told you, he went down on his knees and prayed. +What do you think of that?”</p> +<p>Heyst paused. She looked at him earnestly.</p> +<p>“You didn’t make fun of him for that?” she said.</p> +<p>Heyst made a brusque movement of protest</p> +<p>“My dear girl, I am not a ruffian,” he cried. Then, +returning to his usual tone: “I didn’t even have to conceal +a smile. Somehow it didn’t look a smiling matter. +No, it was not funny; it was rather pathetic; he was so representative +of an the past victims of the Great Joke. But it is by folly alone +that the world moves, and so it is a respectable thing upon the whole. +And besides, he was what one would call a good man. I don’t +mean especially because he had offered up a prayer. No! +He was really a decent fellow, he was quite unfitted for this world, +he was a failure, a good man cornered - a sight for the gods; for no +decent mortal cares to look at that sort.” A thought seemed +to occur to him. He turned his face to the girl. “And +you, who have been cornered too - did you think of offering a prayer?”</p> +<p>Neither her eyes nor a single one of her features moved the least +bit. She only let fall the words:</p> +<p>“I am not what they call a good girl.”</p> +<p>“That sounds evasive,” said Heyst after a short silence. +“Well, the good fellow did pray and after he had confessed to +it I was struck by the comicality of the situation. No, don’t +misunderstand me - I am not alluding to his act, of course. And +even the idea of Eternity, Infinity, Omnipotence, being called upon +to defeat the conspiracy of two miserable Portuguese half-castes did +not move my mirth. From the point of view of the supplicant, the +danger to be conjured was something like the end of the world, or worse. +No! What captivated my fancy was that I, Axel Heyst, the most +detached of creatures in this earthly captivity, the veriest tramp on +this earth, an indifferent stroller going through the world’s +bustle - that I should have been there to step into the situation of +an agent of Providence. <i>I</i>, a man of universal scorn and +unbelief . . . ”</p> +<p>“You are putting it on,” she interrupted in her seductive +voice, with a coaxing intonation.</p> +<p>“No. I am not like that, born or fashioned, or both. +I am not for nothing the son of my father, of that man in the painting. +I am he, all but the genius. And there is even less in me than +I make out, because the very scorn is falling away from me year after +year. I have never been so amused as by that episode in which +I was suddenly called to act such an incredible part. For a moment +I enjoyed it greatly. It got him out of his corner, you know.”</p> +<p>“You saved a man for fun - is that what you mean? Just +for fun?”</p> +<p>“Why this tone of suspicion?” remonstrated Heyst. +“I suppose the sight of this particular distress was disagreeable +to me. What you call fun came afterwards, when it dawned on me +that I was for him a walking, breathing, incarnate proof of the efficacy +of prayer. I was a little fascinated by it - and then, could I +have argued with him? You don’t argue against such evidence, +and besides it would have looked as if I had wanted to claim all the +merit. Already his gratitude was simply frightful. Funny +position, wasn’t it? The boredom came later, when we lived +together on board his ship. I had, in a moment of inadvertence, +created for myself a tie. How to define it precisely I don’t +know. One gets attached in a way to people one has done something +for. But is that friendship? I am not sure what it was. +I only know that he who forms a tie is lost. The germ of corruption +has entered into his soul.”</p> +<p>Heyst’s tone was light, with the flavour of playfulness which +seasoned all his speeches and seemed to be of the very essence of his +thoughts. The girl he had come across, of whom he had possessed +himself, to whose presence he was not yet accustomed, with whom he did +not yet know how to live; that human being so near and still so strange, +gave him a greater sense of his own reality than he had ever known in +all his life.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER FOUR</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>With her knees drawn up, Lena rested her elbows on them and held +her head in both her hands.</p> +<p>“Are you tired of sitting here?” Heyst asked.</p> +<p>An almost imperceptible negative movement of the head was all the +answer she made.</p> +<p>“Why are you looking so serious?” he pursued, and immediately +thought that habitual seriousness, in the long run, was much more bearable +than constant gaiety. “However, this expression suits you +exceedingly,” he added, not diplomatically, but because, by the +tendency of his taste, it was a true statement. “And as +long as I can be certain that it is not boredom which gives you this +severe air, I am willing to sit here and look at you till you are ready +to go.”</p> +<p>And this was true. He was still under the fresh sortilege of +their common life, the surprise of novelty, the flattered vanity of +his possession of this woman; for a man must feel that, unless he has +ceased to be masculine. Her eyes moved in his direction, rested +on him, then returned to their stare into the deeper gloom at the foot +of the straight tree-trunks, whose spreading crowns were slowly withdrawing +their shade. The warm air stirred slightly about her motionless +head. She would not look at him, from some obscure fear of betraying +herself. She felt in her innermost depths an irresistible desire +to give herself up to him more completely, by some act of absolute sacrifice. +This was something of which he did not seem to have an idea. He +was a strange being without needs. She felt his eyes fixed upon +her; and as he kept silent, she said uneasily - for she didn’t +know what his silences might mean:</p> +<p>“And so you lived with that friend - that good man?”</p> +<p>“Excellent fellow,” Heyst responded, with a readiness +that she did not expect. “But it was a weakness on my part. +I really didn’t want to, only he wouldn’t let me off, and +I couldn’t explain. He was the sort of man to whom you can’t +explain anything. He was extremely sensitive, and it would have +been a tigerish thing to do to mangle his delicate feelings by the sort +of plain speaking that would have been necessary. His mind was +like a white-walled, pure chamber, furnished with, say, six straw-bottomed +chairs, and he was always placing and displacing them in various combinations. +But they were always the same chairs. He was extremely easy to +live with; but then he got hold of this coal idea - or, rather, the +idea got hold of him, it entered into that scantily furnished chamber +of which I have just spoken, and sat on all the chairs. There +was no dislodging it, you know! It was going to make his fortune, +my fortune, everybody’s fortune. In past years, in moments +of doubt that will come to a man determined to remain free from absurdities +of existence, I often asked myself, with a momentary dread, in what +way would life try to get hold of me? And this was the way. +He got it into his head that he could do nothing without me. And +was I now, he asked me, to spurn and ruin him? Well, one morning +- I wonder if he had gone down on his knees to pray that night! - one +morning I gave in.”</p> +<p>Heyst tugged violently at a tuft of dried grass, and cast it away +from him with a nervous gesture.</p> +<p>“I gave in,” he repeated.</p> +<p>Looking towards him with a movement of her eyes only, the girl noticed +the strong feeling on his face with that intense interest which his +person awakened in her mind and in her heart. But it soon passed +away, leaving only a moody expression.</p> +<p>“It’s difficult to resist where nothing matters,” +he observed. “And perhaps there is a grain of freakishness +in my nature. It amused me to go about uttering silly, commonplace +phrases. I was never so well thought of in the islands till I +began to jabber commercial gibberish like the veriest idiot. Upon +my word, I believe that I was actually respected for a time. I +was as grave as an owl over it; I had to be loyal to the man. +I have been, from first to last, completely, utterly loyal to the best +of my ability. I thought he understood something about coal. +And if I had been aware that he knew nothing of it, as in fact he didn’t, +well - I don’t know what I could have done to stop him. +In one way or another I should have had to be loyal. Truth, work, +ambition, love itself, may be only counters in the lamentable or despicable +game of life, but when one takes a hand one must play the game. +No, the shade of Morrison needn’t haunt me. What’s +the matter? I say, Lena, why are you staring like that? +Do you feel ill?”</p> +<p>Heyst made as if to get on his feet. The girl extended her +arm to arrest him, and he remained staring in a sitting posture, propped +on one arm, observing her indefinable expression of anxiety, as if she +were unable to draw breath.</p> +<p>“What has come to you?” he insisted, feeling strangely +unwilling to move, to touch her.</p> +<p>“Nothing!” She swallowed painfully. “Of +course it can’t be. What name did you say? I didn’t +hear it properly.”</p> +<p>“Name?” repeated Heyst dazedly. “I only mentioned +Morrison. It’s the name of that man of whom I’ve been +speaking. What of it?”</p> +<p>“And you mean to say that he was your friend?”</p> +<p>“You have heard enough to judge for yourself. You know +as much of our connection as I know myself. The people in this +part of the world went by appearances, and called us friends, as far +as I can remember. Appearances - what more, what better can you +ask for? In fact you can’t have better. You can’t +have anything else.”</p> +<p>“You are trying to confuse me with your talk,” she cried. +“You can’t make fun of this.”</p> +<p>“Can’t? Well, no I can’t. It’s +a pity. Perhaps it would have been the best way,” said Heyst, +in a tone which for him could be called gloomy. “Unless +one could forget the silly business altogether.” His faint +playfulness of manner and speech returned, like a habit one has schooled +oneself into, even before his forehead had cleared completely. +“But why are you looking so hard at me? Oh, I don’t +object, and I shall try not to flinch. Your eyes - ”</p> +<p>He was looking straight into them, and as a matter of fact had forgotten +all about the late Morrison at that moment.</p> +<p>“No,” he exclaimed suddenly. “What an impenetrable +girl you are Lena, with those grey eyes of yours! Windows of the +soul, as some poet has said. The fellow must have been a glazier +by vocation. Well, nature has provided excellently for the shyness +of your soul.”</p> +<p>When he ceased speaking, the girl came to herself with a catch of +her breath. He heard her voice, the varied charm of which he thought +he knew so well, saying with an unfamiliar intonation:</p> +<p>“And that partner of yours is dead?”</p> +<p>“Morrison? Oh, yes, as I’ve told you, he - ”</p> +<p>“You never told me.”</p> +<p>“Didn’t I? I thought I did; or, rather, I thought +you must know. It seems impossible that anybody with whom I speak +should not know that Morrison is dead.”</p> +<p>She lowered her eyelids, and Heyst was startled by something like +an expression of horror on her face.</p> +<p>“Morrison!” she whispered in an appalled tone. +“Morrison!” Her head drooped. Unable to see +her features, Heyst could tell from her voice that for some reason or +other she was profoundly moved by the syllables of that unromantic name. +A thought flashed through his head - could she have known Morrison? +But the mere difference of their origins made it wildly improbable.</p> +<p>“This is very extraordinary!” he said. “Have +you ever heard the name before?”</p> +<p>Her head moved quickly several times in tiny affirmative nods, as +if she could not trust herself to speak, or even to look at him. +She was biting her lower lip.</p> +<p>“Did you ever know anybody of that name?” he asked.</p> +<p>The girl answered by a negative sign; and then at last she spoke, +jerkily, as if forcing herself against some doubt or fear. She +had heard of that very man, she told Heyst.</p> +<p>“Impossible!” he said positively. “You are +mistaken. You couldn’t have heard of him, it’s - ”</p> +<p>He stopped short, with the thought that to talk like this was perfectly +useless; that one doesn’t argue against thin air.</p> +<p>“But I did hear of him; only I didn’t know then, I couldn’t +guess, that it was your partner they were talking about.”</p> +<p>“Talking about my partner?” repeated Heyst slowly.</p> +<p>“No.” Her mind seemed almost as bewildered, as +full of incredulity, as his. “No. They were talking +of you really; only I didn’t know it.”</p> +<p>“Who were they?” Heyst raised his voice. “Who +was talking of me? Talking where?”</p> +<p>With the first question he had lifted himself from his reclining +position; at the last he was on his knees before her, their heads on +a level.</p> +<p>“Why, in that town, in that hotel. Where else could it +have been?” she said.</p> +<p>The idea of being talked about was always novel to Heyst’s +simplified conception of himself. For a moment he was as much +surprised as if he had believed himself to be a mere gliding shadow +among men. Besides, he had in him a half-unconscious notion that +he was above the level of island gossip.</p> +<p>“But you said first that it was of Morrison they talked,” +he remarked to the girl, sinking on his heels, and no longer much interested. +“Strange that you should have the opportunity to hear any talk +at all! I was rather under the impression that you never saw anybody +belonging to the town except from the platform.”</p> +<p>“You forget that I was not living with the other girls,” +she said. “After meals they used to go back to the Pavilion, +but I had to stay in the hotel and do my sewing, or what not, in the +room where they talked.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t think of that. By the by, you never told +me who they were.”</p> +<p>“Why, that horrible red-faced beast,” she said, with +all the energy of disgust which the mere thought of the hotel-keeper +provoked in her.</p> +<p>“Oh, Schomberg!” Heyst murmured carelessly.</p> +<p>“He talked to the boss - to Zangiacomo, I mean. I had +to sit there. That devil-woman sometimes wouldn’t let me +go away. I mean Mrs. Zangiacomo.”</p> +<p>“I guessed,” murmured Heyst. “She liked to +torment you in a variety of ways. But it is really strange that +the hotel-keeper should talk of Morrison to Zangiacomo. As far +as I can remember he saw very little of Morrison professionally. +He knew many others much better.”</p> +<p>The girl shuddered slightly.</p> +<p>“That was the only name I ever overheard. I would get +as far away from them as I could, to the other end of the room, but +when that beast started shouting I could not help hearing. I wish +I had never heard anything. If I had got up and gone out of the +room I don’t suppose the woman would have killed me for it; but +she would have rowed me in a nasty way. She would have threatened +me and called me names. That sort, when they know you are helpless, +there’s nothing to stop them. I don’t know how it +is, but bad people, real bad people that you can see are bad, they get +over me somehow. It’s the way they set about downing one. +I am afraid of wickedness.”</p> +<p>Heyst watched the changing expressions of her face. He encouraged +her, profoundly sympathetic, a little amused.</p> +<p>“I quite understand. You needn’t apologize for +your great delicacy in the perception of inhuman evil. I am a +little like you.”</p> +<p>“I am not very plucky,” she said.</p> +<p>“Well! I don’t know myself what I would do, what +countenance I would have before a creature which would strike me as +being evil incarnate. Don’t you be ashamed!”</p> +<p>She sighed, looked up with her pale, candid gaze and a timid expression +on her face, and murmured:</p> +<p>“You don’t seem to want to know what he was saying.”</p> +<p>“About poor Morrison? It couldn’t have been anything +bad, for the poor fellow was innocence itself. And then, you know, +he is dead, and nothing can possibly matter to him now.”</p> +<p>“But I tell you that it was of you he was talking!” she +cried.</p> +<p>“He was saying that Morrison’s partner first got all +there was to get out of him, and then, and then - well, as good as murdered +him - sent him out to die somewhere!”</p> +<p>“You believe that of me?” said Heyst, after a moment +of perfect silence.</p> +<p>“I didn’t know it had anything to do with you. +Schomberg was talking of some Swede. How was I to know? +It was only when you began telling me about how you came here - ”</p> +<p>“And now you have my version.” Heyst forced himself +to speak quietly. “So that’s how the business looked +from outside!” he muttered.</p> +<p>“I remember him saying that everybody in these parts knew the +story,” the girl added breathlessly.</p> +<p>“Strange that it should hurt me!” mused Heyst to himself; +“yet it does. I seem to be as much of a fool as those everybodies +who know the story and no doubt believe it. Can you remember any +more?” he addressed the girl in a grimly polite tone. “I’ve +often heard of the moral advantages of seeing oneself as others see +one. Let us investigate further. Can’t you recall +something else that everybody knows?”</p> +<p>“Oh! Don’t laugh!” she cried.</p> +<p>“Did I laugh? I assure you I was not aware of it. +I won’t ask you whether you believe the hotel-keeper’s version. +Surely you must know the value of human judgement!”</p> +<p>She unclasped her hands, moved them slightly, and twined her fingers +as before. Protest? Assent? Was there to be nothing +more? He was relieved when she spoke in that warm and wonderful +voice which in itself comforted and fascinated one’s heart, which +made her lovable.</p> +<p>“I heard this before you and I ever spoke to each other. +It went out of my memory afterwards. Everything went out of my +memory then; and I was glad of it. It was a fresh start for me, +with you - and you know it. I wish I had forgotten who I was - +that would have been best; and I very nearly did forget.”</p> +<p>He was moved by the vibrating quality of the last words. She +seemed to be talking low of some wonderful enchantment, in mysterious +terms of special significance. He thought that if she only could +talk to him in some unknown tongue, she would enslave him altogether +by the sheer beauty of the sound, suggesting infinite depths of wisdom +and feeling.</p> +<p>“But,” she went on, “the name stuck in my head, +it seems; and when you mentioned it - ”</p> +<p>“It broke the spell,” muttered Heyst in angry disappointment +as if he had been deceived in some hope.</p> +<p>The girl, from her position a little above him, surveyed with still +eyes the abstracted silence of the man on whom she now depended with +a completeness of which she had not been vividly conscious before, because, +till then, she had never felt herself swinging between the abysses of +earth and heaven in the hollow of his arm. What if he should grow +weary of the burden?</p> +<p>“And, moreover, nobody had ever believed that tale!”</p> +<p>Heyst came out with an abrupt burst of sound which made her open +her steady eyes wider, with an effect of immense surprise. It +was a purely mechanical effect, because she was neither surprised nor +puzzled. In fact, she could understand him better then than at +any moment since she first set eyes on him.</p> +<p>He laughed scornfully.</p> +<p>“What am I thinking of?” he cried. “As if +it could matter to me what anybody had ever said or believed, from the +beginning of the world till the crack of doom!”</p> +<p>“I never heard you laugh till today,” she observed. +“This is the second time!”</p> +<p>He scrambled to his feet and towered above her.</p> +<p>“That’s because, when one’s heart has been broken +into in the way you have broken into mine, all sorts of weaknesses are +free to enter - shame, anger, stupid indignation, stupid fears - stupid +laughter, too. I wonder what interpretation you are putting on +it?”</p> +<p>“It wasn’t gay, certainly,” she said. “But +why are you angry with me? Are you sorry you took me away from +those beasts? I told you who I was. You could see it.”</p> +<p>“Heavens!” he muttered. He had regained his command +of himself. “I assure you I could see much more than you +could tell me. I could see quite a lot that you don’t even +suspect yet, but you can’t be seen quite through.”</p> +<p>He sank to the ground by her side and took her hand. She asked +gently:</p> +<p>“What more do you want from me?”</p> +<p>He made no sound for a time.</p> +<p>“The impossible, I suppose,” he said very low, as one +makes a confidence, and pressing the hand he grasped.</p> +<p>It did not return the pressure. He shook his head as if to +drive away the thought of this, and added in a louder, light tone:</p> +<p>“Nothing less. And it isn’t because I think little +of what I’ve got already. Oh, no! It is because I +think so much of this possession of mine that I can’t have it +complete enough. I know it’s unreasonable. You can’t +hold back anything - now.”</p> +<p>“Indeed I couldn’t,” she whispered, letting her +hand lie passive in his tight grasp. “I only wish I could +give you something more, or better, or whatever it is you want.”</p> +<p>He was touched by the sincere accent of these simple words.</p> +<p>“I tell you what you can do - you can tell me whether you would +have gone with me like this if you had known of whom that abominable +idiot of a hotel-keeper was speaking. A murderer - no less!”</p> +<p>“But I didn’t know you at all then,” she cried. +“And I had the sense to understand what he was saying. It +wasn’t murder, really. I never thought it was.”</p> +<p>“What made him invent such an atrocity?” Heyst exclaimed. +“He seems a stupid animal. He <i>is</i> stupid. How +did he manage to hatch that pretty tale? Have I a particularly +vile countenance? Is black selfishness written all over my face? +Or is that sort of thing so universally human that it might be said +of anybody?”</p> +<p>“It wasn’t murder,” she insisted earnestly.</p> +<p>“I know. I understand. It was worse. As to +killing a man, which would be a comparatively decent thing to do, well +- I have never done that.”</p> +<p>“Why should you do it?” she asked in a frightened voice.</p> +<p>“My dear girl, you don’t know the sort of life I have +been leading in unexplored countries, in the wilds; it’s difficult +to give you an idea. There are men who haven’t been in such +tight places as I have found myself in who have had to - to shed blood, +as the saying is. Even the wilds hold prizes which tempt some +people; but I had no schemes, no plans - and not even great firmness +of mind to make me unduly obstinate. I was simply moving on, while +the others, perhaps, were going somewhere. An indifference as +to roads and purposes makes one meeker, as it were. And I may +say truly, too, that I never did care, I won’t say for life - +I had scorned what people call by that name from the first - but for +being alive. I don’t know if that is what men call courage, +but I doubt it very much.”</p> +<p>“You! You have no courage?” she protested.</p> +<p>“I really don’t know. Not the sort that always +itches for a weapon, for I have never been anxious to use one in the +quarrels that a man gets into in the most innocent way sometimes. +The differences for which men murder each other are, like everything +else they do, the most contemptible, the most pitiful things to look +back upon. No, I’ve never killed a man or loved a woman +- not even in my thoughts, not even in my dreams.”</p> +<p>He raised her hand to his lips, and let them rest on it for a space, +during which she moved a little closer to him. After the lingering +kiss he did not relinquish his hold.</p> +<p>“To slay, to love - the greatest enterprises of life upon a +man! And I have no experience of either. You must forgive +me anything that may have appeared to you awkward in my behaviour, inexpressive +in my speeches, untimely in my silences.”</p> +<p>He moved uneasily, a little disappointed by her attitude, but indulgent +to it, and feeling, in this moment of perfect quietness, that in holding +her surrendered hand he had found a closer communion than they had ever +achieved before. But even then there still lingered in him a sense +of incompleteness not altogether overcome - which, it seemed, nothing +ever would overcome - the fatal imperfection of all the gifts of life, +which makes of them a delusion and a snare.</p> +<p>All of a sudden he squeezed her hand angrily. His delicately +playful equanimity, the product of kindness and scorn, had perished +with the loss of his bitter liberty.</p> +<p>“Not murder, you say! I should think not. But when +you led me to talk just now, when the name turned up, when you understood +that it was of me that these things had been said, you showed a strange +emotion. I could see it.”</p> +<p>“I was a bit startled,” she said.</p> +<p>“At the baseness of my conduct?” he asked.</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t judge you, not for anything.”</p> +<p>“Really?”</p> +<p>“It would be as if I dared to judge everything that there is.” +With her other hand she made a gesture that seemed to embrace in one +movement the earth and the heaven. “I wouldn’t do +such a thing.”</p> +<p>Then came a silence, broken at last by Heyst:</p> +<p>“I! I! do a deadly wrong to my poor Morrison!” +he cried. “I, who could not bear to hurt his feelings. +I, who respected his very madness! Yes, this madness, the wreck +of which you can see lying about the jetty of Diamond Bay. What +else could I do? He insisted on regarding me as his saviour; he +was always restraining the eternal obligation on the tip of his tongue, +till I was burning with shame at his gratitude. What could I do? +He was going to repay me with this infernal coal, and I had to join +him as one joins a child’s game in a nursery. One would +no more have thought of humiliating him than one would think of humiliating +a child. What’s the use of talking of all this! Of +course, the people here could not understand the truth of our relation +to each other. But what business of theirs was it? Kill +old Morrison! Well, it is less criminal, less base - I am not +saying it is less difficult - to kill a man than to cheat him in that +way. You understand that?”</p> +<p>She nodded slightly, but more than once and with evident conviction. +His eyes rested on her, inquisitive, ready for tenderness.</p> +<p>“But it was neither one nor the other,” he went on. +“Then, why I your emotion? All you confess is that you wouldn’t +judge me.”</p> +<p>She turned upon him her veiled, unseeing grey eyes in which nothing +of her wonder could be read.</p> +<p>“I said I couldn’t,” she whispered.</p> +<p>“But you thought that there was no smoke without fire!” +the playfulness of tone hardly concealed his irritation. “What +power there must be in words, only imperfectly heard - for you did not +listen with particular care, did you? What were they? What +evil effort of invention drove them into that idiot’s mouth out +of his lying throat? If you were to try to remember, they would +perhaps convince me, too.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t listen,” she protested. “What +was it to me what they said of anybody? He was saying that there +never were such loving friends to look at as you two; then, when you +got all you wanted out of him and got thoroughly tired of him, too, +you kicked him out to go home and die.”</p> +<p>Indignation, with an undercurrent of some other feeling, rang in +these quoted words, uttered in her pure and enchanting voice. +She ceased abruptly and lowered her long, dark lashes, as if mortally +weary, sick at heart.</p> +<p>“Of course, why shouldn’t you get tired of that or any +other - company? You aren’t like anyone else, and - and +the thought of it made me unhappy suddenly; but indeed, I did not believe +anything bad of you. I - ”</p> +<p>A brusque movement of his arm, flinging her hand away, stopped her +short. Heyst had again lost control of himself. He would +have shouted, if shouting had been in his character.</p> +<p>“No, this earth must be the appointed hatching planet of calumny +enough to furnish the whole universe. I feel a disgust at my own +person, as if I had tumbled into some filthy hole. Pah! +And you - all you can say is that you won’t judge me; that you +- ”</p> +<p>She raised her head at this attack, though indeed he had not turned +to her.</p> +<p>“I don’t believe anything bad of you,” she repeated. +“I couldn’t.”</p> +<p>He made a gesture as if to say:</p> +<p>“That’s sufficient.”</p> +<p>In his soul and in his body he experienced a nervous reaction from +tenderness. All at once, without transition, he detested her. +But only for a moment. He remembered that she was pretty, and, +more, that she had a special grace in the intimacy of life. She +had the secret of individuality which excites - and escapes.</p> +<p>He jumped up and began to walk to and fro. Presently his hidden +fury fell into dust within him, like a crazy structure, leaving behind +emptiness, desolation, regret. His resentment was not against +the girl, but against life itself - that commonest of snares, in which +he felt himself caught, seeing clearly the plot of plots and unconsoled +by the lucidity of his mind.</p> +<p>He swerved and, stepping up to her, sank to the ground by her side. +Before she could make a movement or even turn her head his way, he took +her in his arms and kissed her lips. He tasted on them the bitterness +of a tear fallen there. He had never seen her cry. It was +like another appeal to his tenderness - a new seduction. The girl +glanced round, moved suddenly away, and averted her face. With +her hand she signed imperiously to him to leave her alone - a command +which Heyst did not obey.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER FIVE</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>When she opened her eyes at last and sat up, Heyst scrambled quickly +to his feet and went to pick up her cork helmet, which had rolled a +little way off. Meanwhile she busied herself in doing up her hair, +plaited on the top of her head in two heavy, dark tresses, which had +come loose. He tendered her the helmet in silence, and waited +as if unwilling to hear the sound of his own voice.</p> +<p>“We had better go down now,” he suggested in a low tone.</p> +<p>He extended his hand to help her up. He had the intention to +smile, but abandoned it at the nearer sight of her still face, in which +was depicted the infinite lassitude of her soul. On their way +to regain the forest path they had to pass through the spot from which +the view of the sea could be obtained. The flaming abyss of emptiness, +the liquid, undulating glare, the tragic brutality of the light, made +her long for the friendly night, with its stars stilled by an austere +spell; for the velvety dark sky and the mysterious great shadow of the +sea, conveying peace to the day-weary heart. She put her hand +to her eyes. Behind her back Heyst spoke gently.</p> +<p>“Let us get on, Lena.”</p> +<p>She walked ahead in silence. Heyst remarked that they had never +been out before during the hottest hours. It would do her no good, +he feared. This solicitude pleased and soothed her. She +felt more and more like herself - a poor London girl playing in an orchestra, +and snatched out from the humiliations, the squalid dangers of a miserable +existence, by a man like whom there was not, there could not be, another +in this world. She felt this with elation, with uneasiness, with +an intimate pride - and with a peculiar sinking of the heart.</p> +<p>“I am not easily knocked out by any such thing as heat,” +she said decisively.</p> +<p>“Yes, but I don’t forget that you’re not a tropical +bird.”</p> +<p>“You weren’t born in these parts, either,” she +returned.</p> +<p>“No, and perhaps I haven’t even your physique. +I am a transplanted being. Transplanted! I ought to call +myself uprooted - an unnatural state of existence; but a man is supposed +to stand anything.”</p> +<p>She looked back at him and received a smile. He told her to +keep in the shelter of the forest path, which was very still and close, +full of heat if free from glare. Now and then they had glimpses +of the company’s old clearing blazing with light, in which the +black stumps of trees stood charred, without shadows, miserable and +sinister. They crossed the open in a direct line for the bungalow. +On the veranda they fancied they had a glimpse of the vanishing Wang, +though the girl was not at all sure that she had seen anything move. +Heyst had no doubts.</p> +<p>“Wang has been looking out for us. We are late.”</p> +<p>“Was he? I thought I saw something white for a moment, +and then I did not see it any more.”</p> +<p>“That’s it - he vanishes. It’s a very remarkable +gift in that Chinaman.”</p> +<p>“Are they all like that?” she asked with naïve curiosity +and uneasiness.</p> +<p>“Not in such perfection,” said Heyst, amused.</p> +<p>He noticed with approval that she was not heated by the walk. +The drops of perspiration on her forehead were like dew on the cool, +white petal of a flower. He looked at her figure of grace and +strength, solid and supple, with an ever-growing appreciation.</p> +<p>“Go in and rest yourself for a quarter of an hour; and then +Mr. Wang will give us something to eat,” he said.</p> +<p>They had found the table laid. When they came together again +and sat down to it, Wang materialized without a sound, unheard, uncalled, +and did his office. Which being accomplished, at a given moment +he was not.</p> +<p>A great silence brooded over Samburan - the silence of the great +heat that seems pregnant with fatal issues, like the silence of ardent +thought. Heyst remained alone in the big room. The girl +seeing him take up a book, had retreated to her chamber. Heyst +sat down under his father’s portrait; and the abominable calumny +crept back into his recollection. The taste of it came on his +lips, nauseating and corrosive like some kinds of poison. He was +tempted to spit on the floor, naïvely, in sheer unsophisticated +disgust of the physical sensation. He shook his head, surprised +at himself. He was not used to receive his intellectual impressions +in that way - reflected in movements of carnal emotion. He stirred +impatiently in his chair, and raised the book to his eyes with both +hands. It was one of his father’s. He opened it haphazard, +and his eyes fell on the middle of the page. The elder Heyst had +written of everything in many books - of space and of time, of animals +and of stars; analysing ideas and actions, the laughter and the frowns +of men, and the grimaces of their agony. The son read, shrinking +into himself, composing his face as if under the author’s eye, +with a vivid consciousness of the portrait on his right hand, a little +above his head; a wonderful presence in its heavy frame on the flimsy +wall of mats, looking exiled and at home, out of place and masterful, +in the painted immobility of profile.</p> +<p>And Heyst, the son, read:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Of the stratagems of life the most cruel is the consolation of love +- the most subtle, too; for the desire is the bed of dreams.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>He turned the pages of the little volume, “Storm and Dust,” +glancing here and there at the broken text of reflections, maxims, short +phrases, enigmatical sometimes and sometimes eloquent. It seemed +to him that he was hearing his father’s voice, speaking and ceasing +to speak again. Startled at first, he ended by finding a charm +in the illusion. He abandoned himself to the half-belief that +something of his father dwelt yet on earth - a ghostly voice, audible +to the ear of his own flesh and blood. With what strange serenity, +mingled with terrors, had that man considered the universal nothingness! +He had plunged into it headlong, perhaps to render death, the answer +that faced one at every inquiry, more supportable.</p> +<p>Heyst stirred, and the ghostly voice ceased; but his eyes followed +the words on the last page of the book:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Men of tormented conscience, or of a criminal imagination, are aware +of much that minds of a peaceful, resigned cast do not even suspect. +It is not poets alone who dare descend into the abyss of infernal regions, +or even who dream of such a descent. The most inexpressive of +human beings must have said to himself, at one time or another: “Anything +but this!” . . .</p> +<p>We all have our instants of clairvoyance. They are not very +helpful. The character of the scheme does not permit that or anything +else to be helpful. Properly speaking its character, judged by +the standards established by its victims, is infamous. It excuses +every violence of protest and at the same time never fails to crush +it, just as it crushes the blindest assent. The so-called wickedness +must be, like the so-called virtue, its own reward - to be anything +at all . . .</p> +<p>Clairvoyance or no clairvoyance, men love their captivity. +To the unknown force of negation they prefer the miserably tumbled bed +of their servitude. Man alone can give one the disgust of pity; +yet I find it easier to believe in the misfortune of mankind than in +its wickedness.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>These were the last words. Heyst lowered the book to his knees. +Lena’s voice spoke above his drooping head:</p> +<p>“You sit there as if you were unhappy.”</p> +<p>“I thought you were asleep,” he said.</p> +<p>“I was lying down right enough, but I never closed my eyes.”</p> +<p>“The rest would have done you good after our walk. Didn’t +you try?”</p> +<p>“I was lying down, I tell you, but sleep I couldn’t.”</p> +<p>“And you made no sound! What want of sincerity. +Or did you want to be alone for a time?”</p> +<p>“I - alone?” she murmured.</p> +<p>He noticed her eyeing the book, and got up to put it back in the +bookcase. When he turned round, he saw that she had dropped into +the chair - it was the one she always used - and looked as if her strength +had suddenly gone from her, leaving her only her youth, which seemed +very pathetic, very much at his mercy. He moved quickly towards +the chair.</p> +<p>“Tired, are you? It’s my fault, taking you up so +high and keeping you out so long. Such a windless day, too!”</p> +<p>She watched his concern, her pose languid, her eyes raised to him, +but as unreadable as ever. He avoided looking into them for that +very reason. He forgot himself in the contemplation of those passive +arms, of these defenceless lips, and - yes, one had to go back to them +- of these wide-open eyes. Something wild in their grey stare +made him think of sea-birds in the cold murkiness of high latitudes. +He started when she spoke, all the charm of physical intimacy revealed +suddenly in that voice.</p> +<p>“You should try to love me!” she said.</p> +<p>He made a movement of astonishment.</p> +<p>“Try,” he muttered. “But it seems to me - +” He broke off, saying to himself that if he loved her, +he had never told her so in so many words. Simple words! +They died on his lips. “What makes you say that?” +he asked.</p> +<p>She lowered her eyelids and turned her head a little.</p> +<p>“I have done nothing,” she said in a low voice. +“It’s you who have been good, helpful, and tender to me. +Perhaps you love me for that - just for that; or perhaps you love me +for company, and because - well! But sometimes it seems to me +that you can never love me for myself, only for myself, as people do +love each other when it is to be for ever.” Her head drooped. +“Forever,” she breathed out again; then, still more faintly, +she added an entreating: “Do try!”</p> +<p>These last words went straight to his heart - the sound of them more +than the sense. He did not know what to say, either from want +of practice in dealing with women or simply from his innate honesty +of thought. All his defences were broken now. Life had him +fairly by the throat. But he managed a smile, though she was not +looking at him; yes, he did manage it - the well-known Heyst smile of +playful courtesy, so familiar to all sorts and conditions of men in +the islands.</p> +<p>“My dear Lena,” he said, “it looks as if you were +trying to pick a very unnecessary quarrel with me - of all people!”</p> +<p>She made no movement. With his elbows spread out he was twisting +the ends of his long moustaches, very masculine and perplexed, enveloped +in the atmosphere of femininity as in a cloud, suspecting pitfalls, +and as if afraid to move.</p> +<p>“I must admit, though,” he added, “that there is +no one else; and I suppose a certain amount of quarrelling is necessary +for existence in this world.”</p> +<p>That girl, seated in her chair in graceful quietude, was to him like +a script in an unknown language, or even more simply mysterious, like +any writing to the illiterate. As far as women went he was altogether +uninstructed and he had not the gift of intuition which is fostered +in the days of youth by dreams and visions, exercises of the heart fitting +it for the encounters of a world, in which love itself rests as much +on antagonism as on attraction. His mental attitude was that of +a man looking this way and that on a piece of writing which he is unable +to decipher, but which may be big with some revelation. He didn’t +know what to say. All he found to add was:</p> +<p>“I don’t even understand what I have done or left undone +to distress you like this.”</p> +<p>He stopped, struck afresh by the physical and moral sense of the +imperfections of their relations - a sense which made him desire her +constant nearness, before his eyes, under his hand, and which, when +she was out of his sight, made her so vague, so elusive and illusory, +a promise that could not be embraced and held.</p> +<p>“No! I don’t see clearly what you mean. Is +your mind turned towards the future?” he interpellated her with +marked playfulness, because he was ashamed to let such a word pass his +lips. But all his cherished negations were falling off him one +by one.</p> +<p>“Because if it is so there is nothing easier than to dismiss +it. In our future, as in what people call the other life, there +is nothing to be frightened of.”</p> +<p>She raised her eyes to him; and if nature had formed them to express +anything else but blank candour he would have learned how terrified +she was by his talk and the fact that her sinking heart loved him more +desperately than ever. He smiled at her.</p> +<p>“Dismiss all thought of it,” he insisted. “Surely +you don’t suspect after what I have heard from you, that I am +anxious to return to mankind. I! I! murder my poor Morrison! +It’s possible that I may be really capable of that which they +say I have done. The point is that I haven’t done it. +But it is an unpleasant subject to me. I ought to be ashamed to +confess it - but it is! Let us forget it. There’s +that in you, Lena, which can console me for worse things, for uglier +passages. And if we forget, there are no voices here to remind +us.”</p> +<p>She had raised her head before he paused.</p> +<p>“Nothing can break in on us here,” he went on and, as +if there had been an appeal or a provocation in her upward glance, he +bent down and took her under the arms, raising her straight out of the +chair into a sudden and close embrace. Her alacrity to respond, +which made her seem as light as a feather, warmed his heart at that +moment more than closer caresses had done before. He had not expected +that ready impulse towards himself which had been dormant in her passive +attitude. He had just felt the clasp of her arms round his neck, +when, with a slight exclamation - “He’s here!” - she +disengaged herself and bolted, away into her room.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER SIX</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Heyst was astounded. Looking all round, as if to take the whole +room to witness of this outrage, he became aware of Wang materialized +in the doorway. The intrusion was as surprising as anything could +be, in view of the strict regularity with which Wang made himself visible. +Heyst was tempted to laugh at first. This practical comment on +his affirmation that nothing could break in on them relieved the strain +of his feelings. He was a little vexed, too. The Chinaman +preserved a profound silence.</p> +<p>“What do you want?” asked Heyst sternly.</p> +<p>“Boat out there,” said the Chinaman.</p> +<p>“Where? What do you mean? Boat adrift in the straits?”</p> +<p>Some subtle change in Wang’s bearing suggested his being out +of breath; but he did not pant, and his voice was steady.</p> +<p>“No - row.”</p> +<p>It was Heyst now who was startled and raised his voice.</p> +<p>“Malay man, eh?”</p> +<p>Wang made a slight negative movement with his head.</p> +<p>“Do you hear, Lena?” Heyst called out. “Wang +says there is a boat in sight - somewhere near apparently. Where’s +that boat Wang?”</p> +<p>“Round the point,” said Wang, leaping into Malay unexpectedly, +and in a loud voice. “White men three.”</p> +<p>“So close as that?” exclaimed Heyst, moving out on the +veranda followed by Wang. “White men? Impossible!”</p> +<p>Over the clearing the shadows were already lengthening. The +sun hung low; a ruddy glare lay on the burnt black patch in front of +the bungalow, and slanted on the ground between the straight, tall, +mast-like trees soaring a hundred feet or more without a branch. +The growth of bushes cut off all view of the jetty from the veranda. +Far away to the right Wang’s hut, or rather its dark roof of mats, +could be seen above the bamboo fence which insured the privacy of the +Alfuro woman. The Chinaman looked that way swiftly. Heyst +paused, and then stepped back a pace into the room.</p> +<p>“White men, Lena, apparently. What are you doing?”</p> +<p>“I am just bathing my eyes a little,” the girl’s +voice said from the inner room.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes; all right!”</p> +<p>“Do you want me?”</p> +<p>“No. You had better - I am going down to the jetty. +Yes, you had better stay in. What an extraordinary thing!”</p> +<p>It was so extraordinary that nobody could possibly appreciate how +extraordinary it was but himself. His mind was full of mere exclamations, +while his feet were carrying him in the direction of the jetty. +He followed the line of the rails, escorted by Wang.</p> +<p>“Where were you when you first saw the boat?” he asked +over his shoulder.</p> +<p>Wang explained in Malay that he had gone to the shore end of the +wharf, to get a few lumps of coal from the big heap, when, happening +to raise his eyes from the ground, he saw the boat - a white man boat, +not a canoe. He had good eyes. He had seen the boat, with +the men at the oars; and here Wang made a particular gesture over his +eyes, as if his vision had received a blow. He had turned at once +and run to the house to report.</p> +<p>“No mistake, eh?” said Heyst, moving on. At the +very outer edge of the belt he stopped short. Wang halted behind +him on the path, till the voice of Number One called him sharply forward +into the open. He obeyed.</p> +<p>“Where’s that boat?” asked Heyst forcibly. +“I say - where is it?”</p> +<p>Nothing whatever was to be seen between the point and the jetty. +The stretch of Diamond Bay was like a piece of purple shadow, lustrous +and empty, while beyond the land, the open sea lay blue and opaque under +the sun. Heyst’s eyes swept all over the offing till they +met, far off, the dark cone of the volcano, with its faint plume of +smoke broadening and vanishing everlastingly at the top, without altering +its shape in the glowing transparency of the evening.</p> +<p>“The fellow has been dreaming,” he muttered to himself.</p> +<p>He looked hard at the Chinaman. Wang seemed turned into stone. +Suddenly, as if he had received a shock, he started, flung his arm out +with a pointing forefinger, and made guttural noises to the effect that +there, there, there, he had seen a boat.</p> +<p>It was very uncanny. Heyst thought of some strange hallucination. +Unlikely enough; but that a boat with three men in it should have sunk +between the point and the jetty, suddenly, like a stone, without leaving +as much on the surface as a floating oar, was still more unlikely. +The theory of a phantom boat would have been more credible than that.</p> +<p>“Confound it!” he muttered to himself.</p> +<p>He was unpleasantly affected by this mystery; but now a simple explanation +occurred to him. He stepped hastily out on the wharf. The +boat, if it had existed and had retreated, could perhaps be seen from +the far end of the long jetty.</p> +<p>Nothing was to be seen. Heyst let his eyes roam idly over the +sea. He was so absorbed in his perplexity that a hollow sound, +as of somebody tumbling about in a boat, with a clatter of oars and +spars, failed to make him move for a moment. When his mind seized +its meaning, he had no difficulty in locating the sound. It had +come from below - under the jetty!</p> +<p>He ran back for a dozen yards or so, and then looked over. +His sight plunged straight into the stern-sheets of a big boat, the +greater part of which was hidden from him by the planking of the jetty. +His eyes fell on the thin back of a man doubled up over the tiller in +a queer, uncomfortable attitude of drooping sorrow. Another man, +more directly below Heyst, sprawled on his back from gunwale to gunwale, +half off the after thwart, his head lower than his feet. This +second man glared wildly upward, and struggled to raise himself, but +to all appearance was much too drunk to succeed. The visible part +of the boat contained also a flat, leather trunk, on which the first +man’s long legs were tucked up nervelessly. A large earthenware +jug, with its wide mouth uncorked, rolled out on the bottom-boards from +under the sprawling man.</p> +<p>Heyst had never been so much astonished in his life. He stared +dumbly at the strange boat’s crew. From the first he was +positive that these men were not sailors. They wore the white +drill-suit of tropical civilization; but their apparition in a boat +Heyst could not connect with anything plausible. The civilization +of the tropics could have had nothing to do with it. It was more +like those myths, current in Polynesia, of amazing strangers, who arrive +at an island, gods or demons, bringing good or evil to the innocence +of the inhabitants - gifts of unknown things, words never heard before.</p> +<p>Heyst noticed a cork helmet floating alongside the boat, evidently +fallen from the head of the man doubled over the tiller, who displayed +a dark, bony poll. An oar, too, had been knocked overboard, probably +by the sprawling man, who was still struggling, between the thwarts. +By this time Heyst regarded the visitation no longer with surprise, +but with the sustained attention demanded by a difficult problem. +With one foot poised on the string-piece, and leaning on his raised +knee, he was taking in everything. The sprawling man rolled off +the thwart, collapsed, and, most unexpectedly, got on his feet. +He swayed dizzily, spreading his arms out and uttered faintly a hoarse, +dreamy “Hallo!” His upturned face was swollen, red, +peeling all over the nose and cheeks. His stare was irrational. +Heyst perceived stains of dried blood all over the front of his dirty +white coat, and also on one sleeve.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter? Are you wounded?”</p> +<p>The other glanced down, reeled - one of his feet was inside a large +pith hat - and, recovering himself, let out a dismal, grating sound +in the manner of a grim laugh.</p> +<p>“Blood - not mine. Thirst’s the matter. Exhausted’s +the matter. Done up. Drink, man! Give us water!”</p> +<p>Thirst was in the very tone of his words, alternating a broken croak +and a faint, throaty rustle which just reached Heyst’s ears. +The man in the boat raised his hands to be helped up on the jetty, whispering:</p> +<p>“I tried. I am too weak. I tumbled down.”</p> +<p>Wang was coming along the jetty slowly, with intent, straining eyes.</p> +<p>“Run back and bring a crowbar here. There’s one +lying by the coal-heap,” Heyst shouted to him.</p> +<p>The man standing in the boat sat down on the thwart behind him. +A horrible coughing laugh came through his swollen lips.</p> +<p>“Crowbar? What’s that for?” he mumbled, and +his head dropped on his chest mournfully.</p> +<p>Meantime, Heyst, as if he had forgotten the boat, started kicking +hard at a large brass tap projecting above the planks. To accommodate +ships that came for coal and happened to need water as well, a stream +had been tapped in the interior and an iron pipe led along the jetty. +It terminated with a curved end almost exactly where the strangers’ +boat had been driven between the piles; but the tap was set fast.</p> +<p>“Hurry up!” Heyst yelled to the Chinaman, who was running +with the crowbar in his hand.</p> +<p>Heyst snatched it from him and, obtaining a leverage against the +string-piece, wrung the stiff tap round with a mighty jerk. “I +hope that pipe hasn’t got choked!” he muttered to himself +anxiously.</p> +<p>It hadn’t; but it did not yield a strong gush. The sound +of a thin stream, partly breaking on the gunwale of the boat and partly +splashing alongside, became at once audible. It was greeted by +a cry of inarticulate and savage joy. Heyst knelt on the string-piece +and peered down. The man who had spoken was already holding his +open mouth under the bright trickle. Water ran over his eyelids +and over his nose, gurgled down his throat, flowed over his chin. +Then some obstruction in the pipe gave way, and a sudden thick jet broke +on his face. In a moment his shoulders were soaked, the front +of his coat inundated; he streamed and dripped; water ran into his pockets, +down his legs, into his shoes; but he had clutched the end of the pipe, +and, hanging on with both hands, swallowed, spluttered, choked, snorted +with the noises of a swimmer. Suddenly a curious dull roar reached +Heyst’s ears. Something hairy and black flew from under +the jetty. A dishevelled head, coming on like a cannonball, took +the man at the pipe in flank, with enough force to tear his grip loose +and fling him headlong into the stern-sheets. He fell upon the +folded legs of the man at the tiller, who, roused by the commotion in +the boat, was sitting up, silent, rigid, and very much like a corpse. +His eyes were but two black patches, and his teeth glistened with a +death’s head grin between his retracted lips, no thicker than +blackish parchment glued over the gums.</p> +<p>From him Heyst’s eyes wandered to the creature who had replaced +the first man at the end of the water-pipe. Enormous brown paws +clutched it savagely; the wild, big head hung back, and in a face covered +with a wet mass of hair there gaped crookedly a wide mouth full of fangs. +The water filled it, welled up in hoarse coughs, ran down on each side +of the jaws and down the hairy throat, soaked the black pelt of the +enormous chest, naked under a torn check shirt, heaving convulsively +with a play of massive muscles carved in red mahogany.</p> +<p>As soon as the first man had recovered the breath knocked out of +him by the irresistible charge, a scream of mad cursing issued from +the stern-sheets. With a rigid, angular crooking of the elbow, +the man at the tiller put his hand back to his hip.</p> +<p>“Don’t shoot him, sir!” yelled the first man. +“Wait! Let me have that tiller. I will teach him to +shove himself in front of a <i>caballero</i>!”</p> +<p>Martin Ricardo flourished the heavy piece of wood, leaped forward +with astonishing vigour, and brought it down on Pedro’s head with +a crash that resounded all over the quiet sweep of Black Diamond Bay. +A crimson patch appeared on the matted hair, red veins appeared in the +water flowing all over his face, and it dripped in rosy drops off his +head. But the man hung on. Not till a second furious blow +descended did the hairy paws let go their grip and the squirming body +sink limply. Before it could touch the bottom-boards, a tremendous +kick in the ribs from Ricardo’s foot shifted it forward out of +sight, whence came the noise of a heavy thud, a clatter of spars, and +a pitiful grunt. Ricardo stooped to look under the jetty.</p> +<p>“Aha, dog! This will teach you to keep back where you +belong, you murdering brute, you slaughtering savage, you! You +infidel, you robber of churches! Next time I will rip you open +from neck to heel, you carrion-cater! <i>Esclavo</i>!”</p> +<p>He backed a little and straightened himself up.</p> +<p>“I don’t mean it really,” he remarked to Heyst, +whose steady eyes met his from above. He ran aft briskly.</p> +<p>“Come along, sir. It’s your turn. I oughtn’t +to have drunk first. ’S truth, I forgot myself! A +gentleman like you will overlook that, I know.” As he made +these apologies, Ricardo extended his hand. “Let me steady +you, sir.”</p> +<p>Slowly Mr. Jones unfolded himself in all his slenderness, rocked, +staggered, and caught Ricardo’s shoulder. His henchman assisted +him to the pipe, which went on gushing a clear stream of water, sparkling +exceedingly against the black piles and the gloom under the jetty.</p> +<p>“Catch hold, sir,” Ricardo advised solicitously. +“All right?”</p> +<p>He stepped back, and, while Mr. Jones revelled in the abundance of +water, he addressed himself to Heyst with a sort of justificatory speech, +the tone of which, reflecting his feelings, partook of purring and spitting. +They had been thirty hours tugging at the oars, he explained, and they +had been more than forty hours without water, except that the night +before they had licked the dew off the gunwales.</p> +<p>Ricardo did not explain to Heyst how it happened. At that precise +moment he had no explanation ready for the man on the wharf, who, he +guessed, must be wondering much more at the presence of his visitors +than at their plight.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER SEVEN</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The explanation lay in the two simple facts that the light winds +and strong currents of the Java Sea had drifted the boat about until +they partly lost their bearings; and that by some extra-ordinary mistake +one of the two jars put into the boat by Schomberg’s man contained +salt water. Ricardo tried to put some pathos into his tones. +Pulling for thirty hours with eighteen-foot oars! And the sun! +Ricardo relieved his feelings by cursing the sun. They had felt +their hearts and lungs shrivel within them. And then, as if all +that hadn’t been trouble enough, he complained bitterly, he had +had to waste his fainting strength in beating their servant about the +head with a stretcher. The fool had wanted to drink sea water, +and wouldn’t listen to reason. There was no stopping him +otherwise. It was better to beat him into insensibility than to +have him go crazy in the boat, and to be obliged to shoot him. +The preventive, administered with enough force to brain an elephant, +boasted Ricardo, had to be applied on two occasions - the second time +all but in sight of the jetty.</p> +<p>“You have seen the beauty,” Ricardo went on expansively, +hiding his lack of some sort of probable story under this loquacity. +“I had to hammer him away from the spout. Opened afresh +all the old broken spots on his head. You saw how hard I had to +hit. He has no restraint, no restraint at all. If it wasn’t +that he can be made useful in one way or another, I would just as soon +have let the governor shoot him.”</p> +<p>He smiled up at Heyst in his peculiar lip-retracting manner, and +added by way of afterthought:</p> +<p>“That’s what will happen to him in the end, if he doesn’t +learn to restrain himself. But I’ve taught him to mind his +manners for a while, anyhow!”</p> +<p>And again he addressed his quick grin up to the man on the wharf. +His round eyes had never left Heyst’s face ever since he began +to deliver his account of the voyage.</p> +<p>“So that’s how he looks!” Ricardo was saying to +himself.</p> +<p>He had not expected Heyst to be like this. He had formed for +himself a conception containing the helpful suggestion of a vulnerable +point. These solitary men were often tipplers. But no! - +this was not a drinking man’s face; nor could he detect the weakness +of alarm, or even the weakness of surprise, on these features, in those +steady eyes.</p> +<p>“We were too far gone to climb out,” Ricardo went on. +“I heard you walking along though. I thought I shouted; +I tried to. You didn’t hear me shout?”</p> +<p>Heyst made an almost imperceptible negative sign, which the greedy +eyes of Ricardo - greedy for all signs - did not miss.</p> +<p>“Throat too parched. We didn’t even care to whisper +to each other lately. Thirst chokes one. We might have died +there under this wharf before you found us.”</p> +<p>“I couldn’t think where you had gone to.” +Heyst was heard at last, addressing directly the newcomers from the +sea. “You were seen as soon as you cleared that point.”</p> +<p>“We were seen, eh?” grunted Mr. Ricardo. “We +pulled like machines - daren’t stop. The governor +sat at the tiller, but he couldn’t speak to us. She drove +in between the piles till she hit something, and we all tumbled off +the thwarts as if we had been drunk. Drunk - ha, ha! Too +dry, by George! We fetched in here with the very last of our strength, +and no mistake. Another mile would have done for us. When +I heard your footsteps, above, I tried to get up, and I fell down.”</p> +<p>“That was the first sound I heard,” said Heyst.</p> +<p>Mr Jones, the front of his soiled white tunic soaked and plastered +against his breast-bone, staggered away from the water-pipe. Steadying +himself on Ricardo’s shoulder, he drew a long breath, raised his +dripping head, and produced a smile of ghastly amiability, which was +lost upon the thoughtful Heyst. Behind his back the sun, touching +the water, was like a disc of iron cooled to a dull red glow, ready +to start rolling round the circular steel plate of the sea, which, under +the darkening sky, looked more solid than the high ridge of Samburan; +more solid than the point, whose long outlined slope melted into its +own unfathomable shadow blurring the dim sheen on the bay. The +forceful stream from the pipe broke like shattered glass on the boat’s +gunwale. Its loud, fitful, and persistent splashing revealed the +depths of the world’s silence.</p> +<p>“Great notion, to lead the water out here,” pronounced +Ricardo appreciatively.</p> +<p>Water was life. He felt now as if he could run a mile, scale +a ten-foot wall, sing a song. Only a few minutes ago he was next +door to a corpse, done up, unable to stand, to lift a hand; unable to +groan. A drop of water had done that miracle.</p> +<p>“Didn’t you feel life itself running and soaking into +you, sir?” he asked his principal, with deferential but forced +vivacity.</p> +<p>Without a word, Mr. Jones stepped off the thwart and sat down in +the stern-sheets.</p> +<p>“Isn’t that man of yours bleeding to death in the bows +under there?” inquired Heyst.</p> +<p>Ricardo ceased his ecstasies over the life-giving water and answered +in a tone of innocence:</p> +<p>“He? You may call him a man, but his hide is a jolly +sight tougher than the toughest alligator he ever skinned in the good +old days. You don’t know how much he can stand: I do. +We have tried him a long time ago. Olà, there! Pedro! +Pedro!” he yelled, with a force of lung testifying to the regenerative +virtues of water.</p> +<p>A weak “<i>Señor</i>?” came from under the wharf.</p> +<p>“What did I tell you?” said Ricardo triumphantly. +“Nothing can hurt him. He’s all right. But, +I say, the boat’s getting swamped. Can’t you turn +this water off before you sink her under us? She’s half +full already.”</p> +<p>At a sign from Heyst, Wang hammered at the brass tap on the wharf, +then stood behind Number One, crowbar in hand, motionless as before. +Ricardo was perhaps not so certain of Pedro’s toughness as he +affirmed; for he stooped, peering under the wharf, then moved forward +out of sight. The gush of water ceasing suddenly, made a silence +which became complete when the after-trickle stopped. Afar, the +sun was reduced to a red spark, glowing very low in the breathless immensity +of twilight. Purple gleams lingered on the water all round the +boat. The spectral figure in the stern-sheets spoke in a languid +tone:</p> +<p>“That - er - companion - er - secretary of mine is a queer +chap. I am afraid we aren’t presenting ourselves in a very +favourable light.”</p> +<p>Heyst listened. It was the conventional voice of an educated +man, only strangely lifeless. But more strange yet was this concern +for appearances, expressed, he did not know, whether in jest or in earnest. +Earnestness was hardly to be supposed under the circumstances, and no +one had ever jested in such dead tones. It was something which +could not be answered, and Heyst said nothing. The other went +on:</p> +<p>“Travelling as I do, I find a man of his sort extremely useful. +He has his little weaknesses, no doubt.”</p> +<p>“Indeed!” Heyst was provoked into speaking. “Weakness +of the arm is not one of them; neither is an exaggerated humanity, as +far as I can judge.”</p> +<p>“Defects of temper,” explained Mr. Jones from the stern-sheets.</p> +<p>The subject of this dialogue, coming out just then from under the +wharf into the visible part of the boat, made himself heard in his own +defence, in a voice full of life, and with nothing languid in his manner +on the contrary, it was brisk, almost jocose. He begged pardon +for contradicting. He was never out of temper with “our +Pedro.” The fellow was a Dago of immense strength and of +no sense whatever. This combination made him dangerous, and he +had to be treated accordingly, in a manner which he could understand. +Reasoning was beyond him.</p> +<p>“And so” - Ricardo addressed Heyst with animation - “you +mustn’t be surprised if - ”</p> +<p>“I assure you,” Heyst interrupted, “that my wonder +at your arrival in your boat here is so great that it leaves no room +for minor astonishments. But hadn’t you better land?”</p> +<p>“That’s the talk, sir!” Ricardo began to +bustle about the boat, talking all the time. Finding himself unable +to “size up” this man, he was inclined to credit him with +extraordinary powers of penetration, which, it seemed to him, would +be favoured by silence. Also, he feared some pointblank question. +He had no ready-made story to tell. He and his patron had put +off considering that rather important detail too long. For the +last two days, the horrors of thirst, coming on them unexpectedly, had +prevented consultation. They had had to pull for dear life. +But the man on the wharf, were he in league with the devil himself, +would pay for all their sufferings, thought Ricardo with an unholy joy.</p> +<p>Meantime, splashing in the water which covered the bottom-boards, +Ricardo congratulated himself aloud on the luggage being out of the +way of the wet. He had piled it up forward. He had roughly +tied up Pedro’s head. Pedro had nothing to grumble about. +On the contrary, he ought to be mighty thankful to him, Ricardo, for +being alive at all.</p> +<p>“Well, now, let me give you a leg up, sir,” he said cheerily +to his motionless principal in the stern-sheets. “All our +troubles are over - for a time, anyhow. Ain’t it luck to +find a white man on this island? I would have just as soon expected +to meet an angel from heaven - eh, Mr. Jones? Now then - ready, +sir? one, two, three, up you go!”</p> +<p>Helped from below by Ricardo, and from above by the man more unexpected +than an angel, Mr. Jones scrambled up and stood on the wharf by the +side of Heyst. He swayed like a reed. The night descending +on Samburan turned into dense shadow the point of land and the wharf +itself, and gave a dark solidity to the unshimmering water extending +to the last faint trace of light away to the west. Heyst stared +at the guests whom the renounced world had sent him thus at the end +of the day. The only other vestige of light left on earth lurked +in the hollows of the thin man’s eyes. They gleamed, mobile +and languidly evasive. The eyelids fluttered.</p> +<p>“You are feeling weak,” said Heyst.</p> +<p>“For the moment, a little,” confessed the other.</p> +<p>With loud panting, Ricardo scrambled on his hands and knees upon +the wharf, energetic and unaided. He rose up at Heyst’s +elbow and stamped his foot on the planks, with a sharp, provocative, +double beat, such as is heard sometimes in fencing-schools before the +adversaries engage their foils. Not that the renegade seaman Ricardo +knew anything of fencing. What he called “shooting-irons,” +were his weapons, or the still less aristocratic knife, such as was +even then ingeniously strapped to his leg. He thought of it, at +that moment. A swift stooping motion, then, on the recovery, a +ripping blow, a shove off the wharf, and no noise except a splash in +the water that would scarcely disturb the silence. Heyst would +have no time for a cry. It would be quick and neat, and immensely +in accord with Ricardo’s humour. But he repressed this gust +of savagery. The job was not such a simple one. This piece +had to be played to another tune, and in much slower time. He +returned to his note of talkative simplicity.</p> +<p>“Ay; and I too don’t feel as strong as I thought I was +when the first drink set me up. Great wonder-worker water is! +And to get it right here on the spot! It was heaven - hey, sir?”</p> +<p>Mr Jones, being directly addressed, took up his part in the concerted +piece:</p> +<p>“Really, when I saw a wharf on what might have been an uninhabited +island, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I doubted its existence. +I thought it was a delusion till the boat actually drove between the +piles, as you see her lying now.”</p> +<p>While he was speaking faintly, in a voice which did not seem to belong +to the earth, his henchman, in extremely loud and terrestrial accents, +was fussing about their belongings in the boat, addressing himself to +Pedro:</p> +<p>“Come, now - pass up the dunnage there! Move, yourself, +<i>hombre</i>, or I’ll have to get down again and give you a tap +on those bandages of yours, you growling bear, you!”</p> +<p>“Ah! You didn’t believe in the reality of the wharf?” +Heyst was saying to Mr. Jones.</p> +<p>“You ought to kiss my hands!”</p> +<p>Ricardo caught hold of an ancient Gladstone bag and swung it on the +wharf with a thump.</p> +<p>“Yes! You ought to burn a candle before me as they do +before the saints in your country. No saint has ever done so much +for you as I have, you ungrateful vagabond. Now then! Up +you get!”</p> +<p>Helped by the talkative Ricardo, Pedro scrambled up on the wharf, +where he remained for some time on all fours, swinging to and fro his +shaggy head tied up in white rags. Then he got up clumsily, like +a bulky animal in the dusk, balancing itself on its hind legs.</p> +<p>Mr Jones began to explain languidly to Heyst that they were in a +pretty bad state that morning, when they caught sight of the smoke of +the volcano. It nerved them to make an effort for their lives. +Soon afterwards they made out the island.</p> +<p>“I had just wits enough left in my baked brain to alter the +direction of the boat,” the ghostly voice went on. “As +to finding assistance, a wharf, a white man - nobody would have dreamed +of it. Simply preposterous!”</p> +<p>“That’s what I thought when my Chinaman came and told +me he had seen a boat with white men pulling up,” said Heyst.</p> +<p>“Most extraordinary luck,” interjected Ricardo, standing +by anxiously attentive to every word. “Seems a dream,” +he added. “A lovely dream!”</p> +<p>A silence fell on that group of three, as if everyone had become +afraid to speak, in an obscure sense of an impending crisis. Pedro +on one side of them and Wang on the other had the air of watchful spectators. +A few stars had come out pursuing the ebbing twilight. A light +draught of air tepid enough in the thickening twilight after the scorching +day, struck a chill into Mr. Jones in his soaked clothes.</p> +<p>“I may infer, then, that there is a settlement of white people +here?” he murmured, shivering visibly.</p> +<p>Heyst roused himself.</p> +<p>“Oh, abandoned, abandoned. I am alone here - practically +alone; but several empty houses are still standing. No lack of +accommodation. We may just as well - here, Wang, go back to the +shore and run the trolley out here.”</p> +<p>The last words having been spoken in Malay, he explained courteously +that he had given directions for the transport of the luggage. +Wang had melted into the night - in his soundless manner.</p> +<p>“My word! Rails laid down and all,” exclaimed Ricardo +softly, in a tone of admiration. “Well, I never!”</p> +<p>“We were working a coal-mine here,” said the late manager +of the Tropical Belt Coal Company. “These are only the ghosts +of things that have been.”</p> +<p>Mr Jones’s teeth were suddenly started chattering by another +faint puff of wind, a mere sigh from the west, where Venus cast her +rays on the dark edge of the horizon, like a bright lamp hung above +the grave of the sun.</p> +<p>“We might be moving on,” proposed Heyst. “My +Chinaman and that - ah - ungrateful servant of yours, with the broken +head, can load the things and come along after us.”</p> +<p>The suggestion was accepted without words. Moving towards the +shore, the three men met the trolley, a mere metallic rustle which whisked +past them, the shadowy Wang running noiselessly behind. Only the +sound of their footsteps accompanied them. It was a long time +since so many footsteps had rung together on that jetty. Before +they stepped on to the path trodden through the grass, Heyst said:</p> +<p>“I am prevented from offering you a share of my own quarters.” +The distant courtliness of this beginning arrested the other two suddenly, +as if amazed by some manifest incongruity. “I should regret +it more,” he went on, “if I were not in a position to give +you the choice of those empty bungalows for a temporary home.”</p> +<p>He turned round and plunged into the narrow track, the two others +following in single file.</p> +<p>“Queer start!” Ricardo took the opportunity for whispering, +as he fell behind Mr. Jones, who swayed in the gloom, enclosed by the +stalks of tropical grass, almost as slender as a stalk of grass himself.</p> +<p>In this order they emerged into the open space kept clear of vegetation +by Wang’s judicious system of periodic firing. The shapes +of buildings, unlighted, high-roofed, looked mysteriously extensive +and featureless against the increasing glitter of the stars. Heyst +was pleased at the absence of light in his bungalow. It looked +as uninhabited as the others. He continued to lead the way, inclining +to the right. His equable voice was heard:</p> +<p>“This one would be the best. It was our counting-house. +There is some furniture in it yet. I am pretty certain that you’ll +find a couple of camp bedsteads in one of the rooms.”</p> +<p>The high-pitched roof of the bungalow towered up very close, eclipsing +the sky.</p> +<p>“Here we are. Three steps. As you see, there’s +a wide veranda. Sorry to keep you waiting for a moment; the door +is locked, I think.”</p> +<p>He was heard trying it. Then he leaned against the rail, saying:</p> +<p>“Wang will get the keys.”</p> +<p>The others waited, two vague shapes nearly mingled together in the +darkness of the veranda, from which issued a sudden chattering of Mr. +Jones’s teeth, directly suppressed, and a slight shuffle of Ricardo’s +feet. Their guide and host, his back against the rail, seemed +to have forgotten their existence. Suddenly he moved, and murmured:</p> +<p>“Ah, here’s the trolley.”</p> +<p>Then he raised his voice in Malay, and was answered, “<i>Ya +tuan</i>,” from an indistinct group that could be made out in +the direction of the track.</p> +<p>“I have sent Wang for the key and a light,” he said, +in a voice that came out without any particular direction - a peculiarity +which disconcerted Ricardo.</p> +<p>Wang did not tarry long on his mission. Very soon from the +distant recesses of obscurity appeared the swinging lantern he carried. +It cast a fugitive ray on the arrested trolley with the uncouth figure +of the wild Pedro drooping over the load; then it moved towards the +bungalow and ascended the stairs. After working at the stiff lock, +Wang applied his shoulder to the door. It came open with explosive +suddenness, as if in a passion at being thus disturbed after two years’ +repose. From the dark slope of a tall stand-up writing-desk a +forgotten, solitary sheet of paper flew up and settled gracefully on +the floor.</p> +<p>Wang and Pedro came and went through the offended door, bringing +the things off the trolley, one flitting swiftly in and out, the other +staggering heavily. Later, directed by a few quiet words from +Number One, Wang made several journeys with the lantern to the store-rooms, +bringing in blankets, provisions in tins, coffee, sugar, and a packet +of candles. He lighted one, and stuck it on the ledge of the stand-up +desk. Meantime Pedro, being introduced to some kindling-wood and +a bundle of dry sticks, had busied himself outside in lighting a fire, +on which he placed a ready-filled kettle handed to him by Wang impassively, +at arm’s length, as if across a chasm. Having received the +thanks of his guests, Heyst wished them goodnight and withdrew, leaving +them to their repose.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER EIGHT</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Heyst walked away slowly. There was still no light in his bungalow, +and he thought that perhaps it was just as well. By this time +he was much less perturbed. Wang had preceded him with the lantern, +as if in a hurry to get away from the two white men and their hairy +attendant. The light was not dancing along any more; it was standing +perfectly still by the steps of the veranda.</p> +<p>Heyst, glancing back casually, saw behind him still another light +- the light of the strangers’ open fire. A black, uncouth +form, stooping over it monstrously, staggered away into the outlying +shadows. The kettle had boiled, probably.</p> +<p>With that weird vision of something questionably human impressed +upon his senses, Heyst moved on a pace or two. What could the +people be who had such a creature for their familiar attendant? +He stopped. The vague apprehension, of a distant future, in which +he saw Lena unavoidably separated from him by profound and subtle differences; +the sceptical carelessness which had accompanied every one of his attempts +at action, like a secret reserve of his soul, fell away from him. +He no longer belonged to himself. There was a call far more imperious +and august. He came up to the bungalow, and at the very limit +of the lantern’s light, on the top step, he saw her feet and the +bottom part of her dress. The rest of her person was suggested +dimly as high as her waist. She sat on a chair, and the gloom +of the low eaves descended upon her head and shoulders. She didn’t +stir.</p> +<p>“You haven’t gone to sleep here?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Oh, no! I was waiting for you - in the dark.”</p> +<p>Heyst, on the top step, leaned against a wooden pillar, after moving +the lantern to one side.</p> +<p>“I have been thinking that it is just as well you had no light. +But wasn’t it dull for you to sit in the dark?”</p> +<p>“I don’t need a light to think of you.” Her +charming voice gave a value to this banal answer, which had also the +merit of truth. Heyst laughed a little, and said that he had had +a curios experience. She made no remark. He tried to figure +to himself the outlines of her easy pose. A spot of dim light +here and there hinted at the unfailing grace of attitude which was one +of her natural possessions.</p> +<p>She had thought of him, but not in connection with the strangers. +She had admired him from the first; she had been attracted by his warm +voice, his gentle eye, but she had felt him too wonderfully difficult +to know. He had given to life a savour, a movement, a promise +mingled with menaces, which she had not suspected were to be found in +it - or, at any rate, not by a girl wedded to misery as she was. +She said to herself that she must not be irritated because he seemed +too self-contained, and as if shut up in a world of his own. When +he took her in his arms, she felt that his embrace had a great and compelling +force, that he was moved deeply, and that perhaps he would not get tired +of her so very soon. She thought that he had opened to her the +feelings of delicate joy, that the very uneasiness he caused her was +delicious in its sadness, and that she would try to hold him as long +as she could - till her fainting arms, her sinking soul, could cling +to him no more.</p> +<p>“Wang’s not here, of course?” Heyst said suddenly. +She answered as if in her sleep.</p> +<p>“He put this light down here without stopping, and ran.”</p> +<p>“Ran, did he? H’m! Well, it’s considerably +later than his usual time to go home to his Alfuro wife; but to be seen +running is a sort of degradation for Wang, who has mastered the art +of vanishing. Do you think he was startled out of his perfection +by something?”</p> +<p>“Why should he be startled?”</p> +<p>Her voice remained dreamy, a little uncertain.</p> +<p>“I have been startled,” Heyst said.</p> +<p>She was not listening to him. The lantern at their feet threw +the shadows of her face upward. Her eyes glistened, as if frightened +and attentive, above a lighted chin and a very white throat.</p> +<p>“Upon my word,” mused Heyst, “now that I don’t +see them, I can hardly believe that those fellows exist!”</p> +<p>“And what about me?” she asked, so swiftly that he made +a movement like somebody pounced upon from an ambush. “When +you don’t see me, do you believe that I exist?”</p> +<p>“Exist? Most charmingly! My dear Lena, you don’t +know your own advantages. Why, your voice alone would be enough +to make you unforgettable!”</p> +<p>“Oh, I didn’t mean forgetting in that way. I dare +say if I were to die you would remember me right enough. And what +good would that be to anybody? It’s while I am alive that +I want - ”</p> +<p>Heyst stood by her chair, a stalwart figure imperfectly lighted. +The broad shoulders, the martial face that was like a disguise of his +disarmed soul, were lost in the gloom above the plane of light in which +his feet were planted. He suffered from a trouble with which she +had nothing to do. She had no general conception of the conditions +of the existence he had offered to her. Drawn into its peculiar +stagnation she remained unrelated to it because of her ignorance.</p> +<p>For instance, she could never perceive the prodigious improbability +of the arrival of that boat. She did not seem to be thinking of +it. Perhaps she had already forgotten the fact herself. +And Heyst resolved suddenly to say nothing more of it. It was +not that he shrank from alarming her. Not feeling anything definite +himself he could not imagine a precise effect being produced on her +by any amount of explanation. There is a quality in events which +is apprehended differently by different minds or even by the same mind +at different times. Any man living at all consciously knows that +embarrassing truth. Heyst was aware that this visit could bode +nothing pleasant. In his present soured temper towards all mankind +he looked upon it as a visitation of a particularly offensive kind.</p> +<p>He glanced along the veranda in the direction of the other bungalow. +The fire of sticks in front of it had gone out. No faint glow +of embers, not the slightest thread of light in that direction, hinted +at the presence of strangers. The darker shapes in the obscurity, +the dead silence, betrayed nothing of that strange intrusion. +The peace of Samburan asserted itself as on any other night. Everything +was as before, except - Heyst became aware of it suddenly - that for +a whole minute, perhaps, with his hand on the back of the girl’s +chair and within a foot of her person, he had lost the sense of her +existence, for the first time since he had brought her over to share +this invincible, this undefiled peace. He picked up the lantern, +and the act made a silent stir all along the veranda. A spoke +of shadow swung swiftly across her face, and the strong light rested +on the immobility of her features, as of a woman looking at a vision. +Her eyes were still, her lips serious. Her dress, open at the +neck, stirred slightly to her even breathing.</p> +<p>“We had better go in, Lena,” suggested Heyst, very low, +as if breaking a spell cautiously.</p> +<p>She rose without a word. Heyst followed her indoors. +As they passed through the living-room, he left the lantern burning +on the centre table.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER NINE</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>That night the girl woke up, for the first time in her new experience, +with the sensation of having been abandoned to her own devices. +She woke up from a painful dream of separation brought about in a way +which she could not understand, and missed the relief of the waking +instant. The desolate feeling of being alone persisted. +She was really alone. A night-light made it plain enough, in the +dim, mysterious manner of a dream; but this was reality. It startled +her exceedingly.</p> +<p>In a moment she was at the curtain that hung in the doorway, and +raised it with a steady hand. The conditions of their life in +Samburan would have made peeping absurd; nor was such a thing in her +character. This was not a movement of curiosity, but of downright +alarm - the continued distress and fear of the dream. The night +could not have been very far advanced. The light of the lantern +was burning strongly, striping the floor and walls of the room with +thick black bands. She hardly knew whether she expected to see +Heyst or not; but she saw him at once, standing by the table in his +sleeping-suit, his back to the doorway. She stepped in noiselessly +with her bare feet, and let the curtain fall behind her. Something +characteristic in Heyst’s attitude made her say, almost in a whisper:</p> +<p>“You are looking for something.”</p> +<p>He could not have heard her before; but he didn’t start at +the unexpected whisper. He only pushed the drawer of the table +in and, without even looking over his shoulder, asked quietly, accepting +her presence as if he had been aware of all her movements:</p> +<p>“I say, are you certain that Wang didn’t go through this +room this evening?”</p> +<p>“Wang? When?”</p> +<p>“After leaving the lantern, I mean.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no. He ran on. I watched him.”</p> +<p>“Or before, perhaps - while I was with these boat people? +Do you know? Can you tell?”</p> +<p>“I hardly think so. I came out as the sun went down, +and sat outside till you came back to me.”</p> +<p>“He could have popped in for an instant through the back veranda.”</p> +<p>“I heard nothing in here,” she said. “What +is the matter?”</p> +<p>“Naturally you wouldn’t hear. He can be as quiet +as a shadow, when he likes. I believe he could steal the pillows +from under our heads. He might have been here ten minutes ago.”</p> +<p>“What woke you up? Was it a noise?”</p> +<p>“Can’t say that. Generally one can’t tell, +but is it likely, Lena? You are, I believe, the lighter sleeper +of us two. A noise loud enough to wake me up would have awakened +you, too. I tried to be as quiet as I could. What roused +you?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know - a dream, perhaps. I woke up crying.”</p> +<p>“What was the dream?”</p> +<p>Heyst, with one hand resting on the table, had turned in her direction, +his round, uncovered head set on a fighter’s muscular neck. +She left his question unanswered, as if she had not heard it.</p> +<p>“What is it you have missed?” she asked in her turn, +very grave.</p> +<p>Her dark hair, drawn smoothly back, was done in two thick tresses +for the night. Heyst noticed the good form of her brow, the dignity +of its width, its unshining whiteness. It was a sculptural forehead. +He had a moment of acute appreciation intruding upon another order of +thoughts. It was as if there could be no end of his discoveries +about that girl, at the most incongruous moments.</p> +<p>She had on nothing but a hand-woven cotton sarong - one of Heyst’s +few purchases, years ago, in Celebes, where they are made. He +had forgotten all about it till she came, and then had found it at the +bottom of an old sandalwood trunk dating back to pre-Morrison days. +She had quickly learned to wind it up under her armpits with a safe +twist, as Malay village girls do when going down to bathe in a river. +Her shoulders and arms were bare; one of her tresses, hanging forward, +looked almost black against the white skin. As she was taller +than the average Malay woman, the sarong ended a good way above her +ankles. She stood poised firmly, half-way between the table and +the curtained doorway, the insteps of her bare feet gleaming like marble +on the overshadowed matting of the floor. The fall of her lighted +shoulders, the strong and fine modelling of her arms hanging down her +sides, her immobility, too, had something statuesque, the charm of art +tense with life. She was not very big - Heyst used to think of +her, at first, as “that poor little girl,” - but revealed +free from the shabby banality of a white platform dress, in the simple +drapery of the sarong, there was that in her form and in the proportions +of her body which suggested a reduction from a heroic size.</p> +<p>She moved forward a step.</p> +<p>“What is it you have missed?” she asked again.</p> +<p>Heyst turned his back altogether on the table. The black spokes +of darkness over the floor and the walls, joining up on the ceiling +in a path of shadow, were like the bars of a cage about them. +It was his turn to ignore a question.</p> +<p>“You woke up in a fright, you say?” he said.</p> +<p>She walked up to him, exotic yet familiar, with her white woman’s +face and shoulders above the Malay sarong, as if it were an airy disguise, +but her expression was serious.</p> +<p>“No,” she replied. “It was distress, rather. +You see, you weren’t there, and I couldn’t tell why you +had gone away from me. A nasty dream - the first I’ve had, +too, since - ”</p> +<p>“You don’t believe in dreams, do you?” asked Heyst.</p> +<p>“I once knew a woman who did. Leastwise, she used to +tell people what dreams mean, for a shilling.”</p> +<p>“Would you go now and ask her what this dream means?” +inquired Heyst jocularly.</p> +<p>“She lived in Camberwell. She was a nasty old thing!”</p> +<p>Heyst laughed a little uneasily.</p> +<p>“Dreams are madness, my dear. It’s things that +happen in the waking world, while one is asleep, that one would be glad +to know the meaning of.”</p> +<p>“You have missed something out of this drawer,” she said +positively.</p> +<p>“This or some other. I have looked into every single +one of them and come back to this again, as people do. It’s +difficult to believe the evidence of my own senses; but it isn’t +there. Now, Lena, are you sure that you didn’t - ”</p> +<p>“I have touched nothing in the house but what you have given +me.”</p> +<p>“Lena!” he cried.</p> +<p>He was painfully affected by this disclaimer of a charge which he +had not made. It was what a servant might have said - an inferior +open to suspicion - or, at any rate, a stranger. He was angry +at being so wretchedly misunderstood; disenchanted at her not being +instinctively aware of the place he had secretly given her in his thoughts.</p> +<p>“After all,” he said to himself, “we are strangers +to each other.”</p> +<p>And then he felt sorry for her. He spoke calmly:</p> +<p>“I was about to say, are you sure you have no reason to think +that the Chinaman has been in this room tonight?”</p> +<p>“You suspect him?” she asked, knitting her eyebrows.</p> +<p>“There is no one else to suspect. You may call it a certitude.”</p> +<p>“You don’t want to tell me what it is?” she inquired, +in the equable tone in which one takes a fact into account.</p> +<p>Heyst only smiled faintly.</p> +<p>“Nothing very precious, as far as value goes,” he replied.</p> +<p>“I thought it might have been money,” she said.</p> +<p>“Money!” exclaimed Heyst, as if the suggestion had been +altogether preposterous. She was so visibly surprised that he +hastened to add: “Of course, there is some money in the house +- there, in that writing-desk, the drawer on the left. It’s +not locked. You can pull it right out. There is a recess, +and the board at the back pivots: a very simple hiding-place, when you +know the way to it. I discovered it by accident, and I keep our +store of sovereigns in there. The treasure, my dear, is not big +enough to require a cavern.”</p> +<p>He paused, laughed very low, and returned her steady stare.</p> +<p>“The loose silver, some guilders and dollars, I have always +kept in that unlocked left drawer. I have no doubt Wang knows +what there is in it, but he isn’t a thief, and that’s why +I - no, Lena, what I’ve missed is not gold or jewels; and that’s +what makes the fact interesting - which the theft of money cannot be.”</p> +<p>She took a long breath, relieved to hear that it was not money. +A great curiosity was depicted on her face, but she refrained from pressing +him with questions. She only gave him one of her deep-gleaming +smiles.</p> +<p>“It isn’t me so it must be Wang. You ought to make +him give it back to you.”</p> +<p>Heyst said nothing to that naïve and practical suggestion, for +the object that he missed from the drawer was his revolver.</p> +<p>It was a heavy weapon which he had owned for many years and had never +used in his life. Ever since the London furniture had arrived +in Samburan, it had been reposing in the drawer of the table. +The real dangers of life, for him, were not those which could be repelled +by swords or bullets. On the other hand neither his manner nor +his appearance looked sufficiently inoffensive to expose him to light-minded +aggression.</p> +<p>He could not have explained what had induced him to go to the drawer +in the middle of the night. He had started up suddenly - which +was very unusual with him. He had found himself sitting up and +extremely wide awake all at once, with the girl reposing by his side, +lying with her face away from him, a vague, characteristically feminine +form in the dim light. She was perfectly still.</p> +<p>At that season of the year there were no mosquitoes in Samburan, +and the sides of the mosquito net were looped up. Heyst swung +his feet to the floor, and found himself standing there, almost before +he had become aware of his intention to get up.</p> +<p>Why he did this he did not know. He didn’t wish to wake +her up, and the slight creak of the broad bedstead had sounded very +loud to him. He turned round apprehensively and waited for her +to move, but she did not stir. While he looked at her, he had +a vision of himself lying there too, also fast asleep, and - it occurred +to him for the first time in his life - very defenceless. This +quite novel impression of the dangers of slumber made him think suddenly +of his revolver. He left the bedroom with noiseless footsteps. +The lightness of the curtain he had to lift as he passed out, and the +outer door, wide open on the blackness of the veranda - for the roof +eaves came down low, shutting out the starlight - gave him a sense of +having been dangerously exposed, he could not have said to what. +He pulled the drawer open. Its emptiness cut his train of self-communion +short. He murmured to the assertive fact:</p> +<p>“Impossible! Somewhere else!”</p> +<p>He tried to remember where he had put the thing; but those provoked +whispers of memory were not encouraging. Foraging in every receptacle +and nook big enough to contain a revolver, he came slowly to the conclusion +that it was not in that room. Neither was it in the other. +The whole bungalow consisted of the two rooms and a profuse allowance +of veranda all round. Heyst stepped out on the veranda.</p> +<p>“It’s Wang, beyond a doubt,” he thought, staring +into the night. “He has got hold of it for some reason.”</p> +<p>There was nothing to prevent that ghostly Chinaman from materializing +suddenly at the foot of the stairs, or anywhere, at any moment, and +toppling him over with a dead sure shot. The danger was so irremediable +that it was not worth worrying about, any more than the general precariousness +of human life. Heyst speculated on this added risk. How +long had he been at the mercy of a slender yellow finger on the trigger? +That is, if that was the fellow’s reason for purloining the revolver.</p> +<p>“Shoot and inherit,” thought Heyst. “Very +simple.” Yet there was in his mind a marked reluctance to +regard the domesticated grower of vegetables in the light of a murderer.</p> +<p>“No, it wasn’t that. For Wang could have done it +any time this last twelve months or more - ”</p> +<p>Heyst’s mind had worked on the assumption that Wang had possessed +himself of the revolver during his own absence from Samburan; but at +that period of his speculation his point of view changed. It struck +him with the force of manifest certitude that the revolver had been +taken only late in the day, or on that very night. Wang, of course. +But why? So there had been no danger in the past. It was +all ahead.</p> +<p>“He has me at his mercy now,” thought Heyst, without +particular excitement.</p> +<p>The sentiment he experienced was curiosity. He forgot himself +in it: it was as if he were considering somebody else’s strange +predicament. But even that sort of interest was dying out when, +looking to his left, he saw the accustomed shapes of the other bungalows +looming in the night, and remembered the arrival of the thirsty company +in the boat. Wang would hardly risk such a crime in the presence +of other white men. It was a peculiar instance of the “safety +in numbers,” principle, which somehow was not much to Heyst’s +taste.</p> +<p>He went in gloomily, and stood over the empty drawer in deep and +unsatisfactory thought. He had just made up his mind that he must +breathe nothing of this to the girl, when he heard her voice behind +him. She had taken him by surprise, but he resisted the impulse +to turn round at once under the impression that she might read his trouble +in his face. Yes, she had taken him by surprise, and for that +reason the conversation which began was not exactly as he would have +conducted it if he had been prepared for her pointblank question. +He ought to have said at once: “I’ve missed nothing.” +It was a deplorable thing that he should have let it come so far as +to have her ask what it was he missed. He closed the conversation +by saying lightly:</p> +<p>“It’s an object of very small value. Don’t +worry about it - it isn’t worth while. The best you can +do is to go and lie down again, Lena.”</p> +<p>Reluctant she turned away, and only in the doorway asked: “And +you?”</p> +<p>“I think I shall smoke a cheroot on the veranda. I don’t +feel sleepy for the moment.”</p> +<p>“Well, don’t be long.”</p> +<p>He made no answer. She saw him standing there, very still, +with a frown on his brow, and slowly dropped the curtain.</p> +<p>Heyst did really light a cheroot before going out again on the veranda. +He glanced up from under the low eaves, to see by the stars how the +night went on. It was going very slowly. Why it should have +irked him he did not know, for he had nothing to expect from the dawn; +but everything round him had become unreasonable, unsettled, and vaguely +urgent, laying him under an obligation, but giving him no line of action. +He felt contemptuously irritated with the situation. The outer +world had broken upon him; and he did not know what wrong he had done +to bring this on himself, any more than he knew what he had done to +provoke the horrible calumny about his treatment of poor Morrison. +For he could not forget this. It had reached the ears of one who +needed to have the most perfect confidence in the rectitude of his conduct.</p> +<p>“And she only half disbelieves it,” he thought, with +hopeless humiliation.</p> +<p>This moral stab in the back seemed to have taken some of his strength +from him, as a physical wound would have done. He had no desire +to do anything - neither to bring Wang to terms in the matter of the +revolver nor to find out from the strangers who they were, and how their +predicament had come about. He flung his glowing cigar away into +the night. But Samburan was no longer a solitude wherein he could +indulge in all his moods. The fiery parabolic path the cast-out +stump traced in the air was seen from another veranda at a distant of +some twenty yards. It was noted as a symptom of importance by +an observer with his faculties greedy for signs, and in a state of alertness +tense enough almost to hear the grass grow.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER TEN</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The observer was Martin Ricardo. To him life was not a matter +of passive renunciation, but of a particularly active warfare. +He was not mistrustful of it, he was not disgusted with it, still less +was he inclined to be suspicious of its disenchantments; but he was +vividly aware that it held many possibilities of failure. Though +very far from being a pessimist, he was not a man of foolish illusions. +He did not like failure, not only because of its unpleasant and dangerous +consequences, but also because of its damaging effect upon his own appreciation +of Martin Ricardo. And this was a special job, of his own contriving, +and of considerable novelty. It was not, so to speak, in his usual +line of business - except, perhaps, from a moral standpoint, about which +he was not likely to trouble his head. For these reasons Martin +Ricardo was unable to sleep.</p> +<p>Mr Jones, after repeated shivering fits, and after drinking much +hot tea, had apparently fallen into deep slumber. He had very +peremptorily discouraged attempts at conversation on the part of his +faithful follower. Ricardo listened to his regular breathing. +It was all very well for the governor. He looked upon it as a +sort of sport. A gentleman naturally would. But this ticklish +and important job had to be pulled off at all costs, both for honour +and for safety. Ricardo rose quietly, and made his way on the +veranda. He could not lie still. He wanted to go out for +air, and he had a feeling that by the force of his eagerness even the +darkness and the silence could be made to yield something to his eyes +and ears.</p> +<p>He noted the stars, and stepped back again into the dense darkness. +He resisted the growing impulse to go out and steal towards the other +bungalow. It would have been madness to start prowling in the +dark on unknown ground. And for what end? Unless to relieve +the oppression. Immobility lay on his limbs like a leaden garment. +And yet he was unwilling to give up. He persisted in his objectless +vigil. The man of the island was keeping quiet.</p> +<p>It was at that moment that Ricardo’s eyes caught the vanishing +red trail of light made by the cigar - a startling revelation of the +man’s wakefulness. He could not suppress a low “Hallo!” +and began to sidle along towards the door, with his shoulders rubbing +the wall. For all he knew, the man might have been out in front +by this time, observing the veranda. As a matter of fact, after +flinging away the cheroot, Heyst had gone indoors with the feeling of +a man who gives up an unprofitable occupation. But Ricardo fancied +he could hear faint footfalls on the open ground, and dodged quickly +into the room. There he drew breath, and meditated for a while. +His next step was to feel for the matches on the tall desk, and to light +the candle. He had to communicate to his governor views and reflections +of such importance that it was absolutely necessary for him to watch +their effect on the very countenance of the hearer. At first he +had thought that these matters could have waited till daylight; but +Heyst’s wakefulness, disclosed in that startling way, made him +feel suddenly certain that there could be no sleep for him that night.</p> +<p>He said as much to his governor. When the little dagger-like +flame had done its best to dispel the darkness, Mr. Jones was to be +seen reposing on a camp bedstead, in a distant part of the room. +A railway rug concealed his spare form up to his very head, which rested +on the other railway rug rolled up for a pillow. Ricardo plumped +himself down cross-legged on the floor, very close to the low bedstead; +so that Mr. Jones - who perhaps had not been so very profoundly asleep +- on opening his eyes found them conveniently levelled at the face of +his secretary.</p> +<p>“Eh? What is it you say? No sleep for you tonight? +But why can’t you let <i>me</i> sleep? Confound your fussiness!”</p> +<p>“Because that there fellow can’t sleep - that’s +why. Dash me if he hasn’t been doing a think just now! +What business has he to think in the middle of the night?”</p> +<p>“How do you know?”</p> +<p>“He was out, sir - up in the middle of the night. My +own eyes saw it.”</p> +<p>“But how do you know that he was up to think?” inquired +Mr. Jones. “It might have been anything - toothache, for +instance. And you may have dreamed it for all I know. Didn’t +you try to sleep?”</p> +<p>“No, sir. I didn’t even try to go to sleep.”</p> +<p>Ricardo informed his patron of his vigil on the veranda, and of the +revelation which put an end to it. He concluded that a man up +with a cigar in the middle of the night must be doing a think.</p> +<p>Mr Jones raised himself on his elbow. This sign of interest +comforted his faithful henchman.</p> +<p>“Seems to me it’s time we did a little think ourselves,” +added Ricardo, with more assurance. Long as they had been together +the moods of his governor were still a source of anxiety to his simple +soul.</p> +<p>“You are always making a fuss,” remarked Mr. Jones, in +a tolerant tone.</p> +<p>“Ay, but not for nothing, am I? You can’t say that, +sir. Mine may not be a gentleman’s way of looking round +a thing, but it isn’t a fool’s way, either. You’ve +admitted that much yourself at odd times.”</p> +<p>Ricardo was growing warmly argumentative. Mr. Jones interrupted +him without heat.</p> +<p>“You haven’t roused me to talk about yourself, I presume?”</p> +<p>“No, sir.” Ricardo remained silent for a minute, +with the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth. “I +don’t think I could tell you anything about myself that you don’t +know,” he continued. There was a sort of amused satisfaction +in his tone which changed completely as he went on. “It’s +that man, over there, that’s got to be talked over. I don’t +like him.”</p> +<p>He, failed to observe the flicker of a ghastly smile on his governor’s +lips.</p> +<p>“Don’t you?” murmured Mr. Jones, whose face, as +he reclined on his elbow, was on a level with the top of his follower’s +head.</p> +<p>“No, sir,” said Ricardo emphatically. The candle +from the other side of the room threw his monstrous black shadow on +the wall. “He - I don’t know how to say it - he isn’t +hearty-like.”</p> +<p>Mr Jones agreed languidly in his own manner:</p> +<p>“He seems to be a very self-possessed man.”</p> +<p>“Ay, that’s it. Self - ” Ricardo choked with +indignation. “I would soon let out some of his self-possession +through a hole between his ribs, if this weren’t a special job!”</p> +<p>Mr Jones had been making his own reflections, for he asked:</p> +<p>“Do you think he is suspicious?”</p> +<p>“I don’t see very well what he can be suspicious of,” +pondered Ricardo. “Yet there he was doing a think. +And what could be the object of it? What made him get out of his +bed in the middle of the night. ’Tain’t fleas, surely.”</p> +<p>“Bad conscience, perhaps,” suggested Mr. Jones jocularly.</p> +<p>His faithful secretary suffered from irritation, and did not see +the joke. In a fretful tone he declared that there was no such +thing as conscience. There was such a thing as funk; but there +was nothing to make that fellow funky in any special way. He admitted, +however, that the man might have been uneasy at the arrival of strangers, +because of all that plunder of his put away somewhere.</p> +<p>Ricardo glanced here and there, as if he were afraid of being overheard +by the heavy shadows cast by the dim light all over the room. +His patron, very quiet, spoke in a calm whisper:</p> +<p>“And perhaps that hotel-keeper has been lying to you about +him. He may be a very poor devil indeed.”</p> +<p>Ricardo shook his head slightly. The Schombergian theory of +Heyst had become in him a profound conviction, which he had absorbed +as naturally as a sponge takes up water. His patron’s doubts +were a wanton denying of what was self-evident; but Ricardo’s +voice remained as before, a soft purring with a snarling undertone.</p> +<p>“I am sup-prised at you, sir! It’s the very way +them tame ones - the common ’yporcrits of the world - get on. +When it comes to plunder drifting under one’s very nose, there’s +not one of them that would keep his hands off. And I don’t +blame them. It’s the way they do it that sets my back up. +Just look at the story of how he got rid of that pal of his! Send +a man home to croak of a cold on the chest - that’s one of your +tame tricks. And d’you mean to say, sir, that a man that’s +up to it wouldn’t bag whatever he could lay his hands in his ’yporcritical +way? What was all that coal business? Tame citizen dodge; +’yporcrisy - nothing else. No, no, sir! The thing +is to extract it from him as neatly as possible. That’s +the job; and it isn’t so simple as it looks. I reckon you +have looked at it all round, sir, before you took up the notion of this +trip.”</p> +<p>“No.” Mr. Jones was hardly audible, staring far +away from his couch. “I didn’t think about it much. +I was bored.”</p> +<p>“Ay, that you were - bad. I was feeling pretty desperate +that afternoon, when that bearded softy of a landlord got talking to +me about this fellow here. Quite accidentally, it was. Well, +sir, here we are after a mighty narrow squeak. I feel all limp +yet; but never mind - his swag will pay for the lot!”</p> +<p>“He’s all alone here,” remarked Mr. Jones in a +hollow murmur.</p> +<p>“Ye-es, in a way. Yes, alone enough. Yes, you may +say he is.”</p> +<p>“There’s that Chinaman, though.”</p> +<p>“Ay, there’s the Chink,” assented Ricardo rather +absentmindedly.</p> +<p>He was debating in his mind the advisability of making a clean breast +of his knowledge of the girl’s existence. Finally he concluded +he wouldn’t. The enterprise was difficult enough without +complicating it with an upset to the sensibilities of the gentleman +with whom he had the honour of being associated. Let the discovery +come of itself, he thought, and then he could swear that he had known +nothing of that offensive presence.</p> +<p>He did not need to lie. He had only to hold his tongue.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he muttered reflectively, “there’s +that Chink, certainly.”</p> +<p>At bottom, he felt a certain ambiguous respect for his governor’s +exaggerated dislike of women, as if that horror of feminine presence +were a sort of depraved morality; but still morality, since he counted +it as an advantage. It prevented many undesirable complications. +He did not pretend to understand it. He did not even try to investigate +this idiosyncrasy of his chief. All he knew was that he himself +was differently inclined, and that it did not make him any happier or +safer. He did not know how he would have acted if he had been +knocking about the world on his own. Luckily he was a subordinate, +not a wage-slave but a follower - which was a restraint. Yes! +The other sort of disposition simplified matters in general; it wasn’t +to be gainsaid. But it was clear that it could also complicate +them - as in this most important and, in Ricardo’s view, already +sufficiently delicate case. And the worst of it was that one could +not tell exactly in what precise manner it would act.</p> +<p>It was unnatural, he thought somewhat peevishly. How was one +to reckon up the unnatural? There were no rules for that. +The faithful henchman of plain Mr. Jones, foreseeing many difficulties +of a material order, decided to keep the girl out of the governor’s +knowledge, out of his sight, too, for as long a time as it could be +managed. That, alas, seemed to be at most a matter of a few hours; +whereas Ricardo feared that to get the affair properly going would take +some days. Once well started, he was not afraid of his gentleman +failing him. As is often the case with lawless natures, Ricardo’s +faith in any given individual was of a simple, unquestioning character. +For man must have some support in life.</p> +<p>Cross-legged, his head drooping a little and perfectly still, he +might have been meditating in a bonze-like attitude upon the sacred +syllable “Om.” It was a striking illustration of the +untruth of appearances, for his contempt for the world was of a severely +practical kind. There was nothing oriental about Ricardo but the +amazing quietness of his pose. Mr. Jones was also very quiet. +He had let his head sink on the rolled-up rug, and lay stretched out +on his side with his back to the light. In that position the shadows +gathered in the cavities of his eyes made them look perfectly empty. +When he spoke, his ghostly voice had only to travel a few inches straight +into Ricardo’s left ear.</p> +<p>“Why don’t you say something, now that you’ve got +me awake?”</p> +<p>“I wonder if you were sleeping as sound as you are trying to +make out, sir,” said the unmoved Ricardo.</p> +<p>“I wonder,” repeated Mr. Jones. “At any rate, +I was resting quietly!”</p> +<p>“Come, sir!” Ricardo’s whisper was alarmed. +“You don’t mean to say you’re going to be bored?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Quite right!” The secretary was very much relieved. +“There’s no occasion to be, I can tell you, sir,” +he whispered earnestly. “Anything but that! If I didn’t +say anything for a bit, it ain’t because there isn’t plenty +to talk about. Ay, more than enough.”</p> +<p>“What’s the matter with you?” breathed out his +patron. “Are you going to turn pessimist?”</p> +<p>“Me turn? No, sir! I ain’t of those that +turn. You may call me hard names, if you like, but you know very +well that I ain’t a croaker.” Ricardo changed his +tone. “If I said nothing for a while, it was because I was +meditating over the Chink, sir.”</p> +<p>“You were? Waste of time, my Martin. A Chinaman +is unfathomable.”</p> +<p>Ricardo admitted that this might be so. Anyhow, a Chink was +neither here nor there, as a general thing, unfathomable as he might +be; but a Swedish baron wasn’t - couldn’t be! The +woods were full of such barons.</p> +<p>“I don’t know that he is so tame,” was Mr. Jones’s +remark, in a sepulchral undertone.</p> +<p>“How do you mean, sir? He ain’t a rabbit, of course. +You couldn’t hypnotize him, as I saw you do to more than one Dago, +and other kinds of tame citizens, when it came to the point of holding +them down to a game.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you reckon on that,” murmured plain Mr. +Jones seriously.</p> +<p>“No, sir, I don’t, though you have a wonderful power +of the eye. It’s a fact.”</p> +<p>“I have a wonderful patience,” remarked Mr. Jones dryly.</p> +<p>A dim smile flitted over the lips of the faithful Ricardo who never +raised his head.</p> +<p>“I don’t want to try you too much, sir, but this is like +no other job we ever turned our minds to.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps not. At any rate let us think so.”</p> +<p>A weariness with the monotony of life was reflected in the tone of +this qualified assent. It jarred on the nerves of the sanguine +Ricardo.</p> +<p>“Let us think of the way to go to work,” he retorted +a little impatiently. “He’s a deep one. Just +look at the way he treated that chum of his. Did you ever hear +of anything so low? And the artfulness of the beast - the dirty, +tame artfulness!”</p> +<p>“Don’t you start moralizing, Martin,” said Mr. +Jones warningly. “As far as I can make out the story that +German hotel-keeper told you, it seems to show a certain amount of character; +- and independence from common feelings which is not usual. It’s +very remarkable, if true.”</p> +<p>“Ay, ay! Very remarkable. It’s mighty low +down, all the same,” muttered, Ricardo obstinately. “I +must say I am glad to think he will be paid off for it in a way that’ll +surprise him!”</p> +<p>The tip of his tongue appeared lively for an instant, as if trying +for the taste of that ferocious retribution on his compressed lips. +For Ricardo was sincere in his indignation before the elementary principle +of loyalty to a chum violated in cold blood, slowly, in a patient duplicity +of years. There are standards in villainy as in virtue, and the +act as he pictured it to himself acquired an additional horror from +the slow pace of that treachery so atrocious and so tame. But +he understood too the educated judgement of his governor, a gentleman +looking on all this with the privileged detachment of a cultivated mind, +of an elevated personality.</p> +<p>“Ay, he’s deep - he’s artful,” he mumbled +between his sharp teeth.</p> +<p>“Confound you!” Mr. Jones’s calm whisper crept +into his ear. “Come to the point.”</p> +<p>Obedient, the secretary shook off his thoughtfulness. There +was a similarity of mind between these two - one the outcast of his +vices, the other inspired by a spirit of scornful defiance, the aggressiveness +of a beast of prey looking upon all the tame creatures of the earth +as its natural victim. Both were astute enough, however, and both +were aware that they had plunged into this adventure without a sufficient +scrutiny of detail. The figure of a lonely man far from all assistance +had loomed up largely, fascinating and defenceless in the middle of +the sea, filling the whole field of their vision. There had not +seemed to be any need for thinking. As Schomberg had been saying: +“Three to one.”</p> +<p>But it did not look so simple now in the face of that solitude which +was like an armour for this man. The feeling voiced by the henchman +in his own way - “We don’t seem much forwarder now we are +here” was acknowledged by the silence of the patron. It +was easy enough to rip a fellow up or drill a hole in him, whether he +was alone or not, Ricardo reflected in low, confidential tones, but +-</p> +<p>“He isn’t alone,” Mr. Jones said faintly, in his +attitude of a man composed for sleep. “Don’t forget +that Chinaman.” Ricardo started slightly.</p> +<p>“Oh, ay - the Chink!”</p> +<p>Ricardo had been on the point of confessing about the girl; but no! +He wanted his governor to be unperturbed and steady. Vague thoughts, +which he hardly dared to look in the face, were stirring his brain in +connection with that girl. She couldn’t be much account, +he thought. She could be frightened. And there were also +other possibilities. The Chink, however, could be considered openly.</p> +<p>“What I was thinking about it, sir,” he went on earnestly, +“is this - here we’ve got a man. He’s nothing. +If he won’t be good, he can be made quiet. That’s +easy. But then there’s his plunder. He doesn’t +carry it in his pocket.”</p> +<p>“I hope not,” breathed Mr. Jones.</p> +<p>“Same here. It’s too big, we know, but if he were +alone, he would not feel worried about it overmuch - I mean the safety +of the pieces. He would just put the lot into any box or drawer +that was handy.”</p> +<p>“Would he?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. He would keep it under his eye, as it were. +Why not? It is natural. A fellow doesn’t put his swag +underground, unless there’s a very good reason for it.”</p> +<p>“A very good reason, eh?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. What do you think a fellow is - a mole?”</p> +<p>From his experience, Ricardo declared that man was not a burrowing +beast. Even the misers very seldom buried their hoard, unless +for exceptional reasons. In the given situation of a man alone +on an island, the company of a Chink was a very good reason. Drawers +would not be safe, nor boxes, either, from a prying, slant-eyed Chink. +No, sir, unless a safe - a proper office safe. But the safe was +there in the room.</p> +<p>“Is there a safe in this room? I didn’t notice +it,” whispered Mr. Jones.</p> +<p>That was because the thing was painted white, like the walls of the +room; and besides, it was tucked away in the shadows of a corner. +Mr. Jones had been too tired to observe anything on his first coming +ashore; but Ricardo had very soon spotted the characteristic form. +He only wished he could believe that the plunder of treachery, duplicity, +and all the moral abominations of Heyst had been there. But no; +the blamed thing was open.</p> +<p>“It might have been there at one time or another,” he +commented gloomily, “but it isn’t there now.”</p> +<p>“The man did not elect to live in this house,” remarked +Mr. Jones. “And by the by, what could he have meant by speaking +of circumstances which prevented him lodging us in the other bungalow? +You remember what he said, Martin? Sounded cryptic.”</p> +<p>Martin, who remembered and understood the phrase as directly motived +by the existence of the girl, waited a little before saying:</p> +<p>“Some of his artfulness, sir; and not the worst of it either. +That manner of his to us, this asking no questions, is some more of +his artfulness. A man’s bound to be curious, and he is; +yet he goes on as if he didn’t care. He does care - or else +what was he doing up with a cigar in the middle of the night, doing +a think? I don’t like it.”</p> +<p>“He may be outside, observing the light here, and saying the +very same thing to himself of our own wakefulness,” gravely suggested +Ricardo’s governor.</p> +<p>“He may be, sir; but this is too important to be talked over +in the dark. And the light is all right, it can be accounted for. +There’s a light in this bungalow in the middle of the night because +- why, because you are not well. Not well, sir - that’s +what’s the matter, and you will have to act up to it.”</p> +<p>The consideration had suddenly occurred to the faithful henchman, +in the light of a felicitous expedient to keep his governor and the +girl apart as long as possible. Mr. Jones received the suggestion +without the slightest stir, even in the deep sockets of his eyes, where +a steady, faint gleam was the only thing telling of life and attention +in his attenuated body. But Ricardo, as soon as he had enunciated +his happy thought, perceived in it other possibilities more to the point +and of greater practical advantage.</p> +<p>“With your looks, sir, it will be easy enough,” he went +on evenly, as if no silence had intervened, always respectful, but frank, +with perfect simplicity of purpose. “All you’ve got +to do is just to lie down quietly. I noticed him looking sort +of surprised at you on the wharf, sir.”</p> +<p>At these words, a naïve tribute to the aspect of his physique, +even more suggestive of the grave than of the sick-bed, a fold appeared +on that side of the governor’s face which was exposed to the dim +light - a deep, shadowy, semicircular fold from the side of the nose +to bottom of the chin - a silent smile. By a side-glance Ricardo +had noted this play of features. He smiled, too, appreciative, +encouraged.</p> +<p>“And you as hard as nails all the time,” he went on. +“Hang me if anybody would believe you aren’t sick, if I +were to swear myself black in the face! Give us a day or two to +look into matters and size up that ’yporcrit.”</p> +<p>Ricardo’s eyes remained fixed on his crossed shins. The +chief, in his lifeless accents, approved.</p> +<p>“Perhaps it would be a good idea.”</p> +<p>“The Chink, he’s nothing. He can be made quiet +any time.”</p> +<p>One of Ricardo’s hands, reposing palm upwards on his folded +legs, made a swift thrusting gesture, repeated by the enormous darting +shadow of an arm very low on the wall. It broke the spell of perfect +stillness in the room. The secretary eyed moodily the wall from +which the shadow had gone. Anybody could be made quiet, he pointed +out. It was not anything that the Chink could do; no, it was the +effect that his company must have produced on the conduct of the doomed +man. A man! What was a man? A Swedish baron could +be ripped up, or else holed by a shot, as easily as any other creature; +but that was exactly what was to be avoided, till one knew where he +had hidden his plunder.</p> +<p>“I shouldn’t think it would be some sort of hole in his +bungalow,” argued Ricardo with real anxiety.</p> +<p>No. A house can be burnt - set on fire accidentally, or on +purpose, while a man’s asleep. Under the house - or in some +crack, cranny, or crevice? Something told him it wasn’t +that. The anguish of mental effort contracted Ricardo’s +brow. The skin of his head seemed to move in this travail of vain +and tormenting suppositions.</p> +<p>“What did you think a fellow is, sir - a baby?” he said, +in answer to Mr. Jones’s objections. “I am trying +to find out what I would do myself. He wouldn’t be likely +to be cleverer than I am.”</p> +<p>“And what do you know about yourself?”</p> +<p>Mr Jones seemed to watch his follower’s perplexities with amusement +concealed in a death-like composure.</p> +<p>Ricardo disregarded the question. The material vision of the +spoil absorbed all his faculties. A great vision! He seemed +to see it. A few small canvas bags tied up with thin cord, their +distended rotundity showing the inside pressure of the disk-like forms +of coins - gold, solid, heavy, eminently portable. Perhaps steel +cash-boxes with a chased design, on the covers; or perhaps a black and +brass box with a handle on the top, and full of goodness knows what. +Bank notes? Why not? The fellow had been going home; so +it was surely something worth going home with.</p> +<p>“And he may have put it anywhere outside - anywhere!” +cried Ricardo in a deadened voice, “in the forest - ”</p> +<p>That was it! A temporary darkness replaced the dim light of +the room. The darkness of the forest at night and in it the gleam +of a lantern, by which a figure is digging at the foot of a tree-trunk. +As likely as not, another figure holding that lantern - ha, feminine! +The girl!</p> +<p>The prudent Ricardo stifled a picturesque and profane exclamation, +partly joy, partly dismay. Had the girl been trusted or mistrusted +by that man? Whatever it was, it was bound to be wholly! +With women there could be no half-measures. He could not imagine +a fellow half-trusting a woman in that intimate relation to himself, +and in those particular circumstances of conquest and loneliness where +no confidences could appear dangerous since, apparently, there could +be no one she could give him away to. Moreover, in nine cases +out of ten the woman would be trusted. But, trusted or mistrusted, +was her presence a favourable or unfavourable condition of the problem? +That was the question!</p> +<p>The temptation to consult his chief, to talk over the weighty fact, +and get his opinion on it, was great indeed. Ricardo resisted +it; but the agony of his solitary mental conflict was extremely sharp. +A woman in a problem is an incalculable quantity, even if you have something +to go upon in forming your guess. How much more so when you haven’t +even once caught sight of her.</p> +<p>Swift as were his mental processes, he felt that a longer silence +was inadvisable. He hastened to speak:</p> +<p>“And do you see us, sir, you and I, with a couple of spades +having to tackle this whole confounded island?”</p> +<p>He allowed himself a slight movement of the arm. The shadow +enlarged it into a sweeping gesture.</p> +<p>“This seems rather discouraging, Martin,” murmured the +unmoved governor.</p> +<p>“We mustn’t be discouraged - that’s all!” +retorted his henchman. “And after what we had to go through +in that boat too! Why it would be - ”</p> +<p>He couldn’t find the qualifying words. Very calm, faithful, +and yet astute, he expressed his new-born hopes darkly.</p> +<p>“Something’s sure to turn up to give us a hint; only +this job can’t be rushed. You may depend on me to pick up +the least little bit of a hint; but you, sir - you’ve got to play +him very gently. For the rest you can trust me.”</p> +<p>“Yes; but I ask myself what <i>you</i> are trusting to.”</p> +<p>“Our luck,” said the faithful Ricardo. “Don’t +say a word against that. It might spoil the run of it.”</p> +<p>“You are a superstitious beggar. No, I won’t say +anything against it.”</p> +<p>“That’s right, sir. Don’t you even think +lightly of it. Luck’s not to be played with.”</p> +<p>“Yes, luck’s a delicate thing,” assented Mr. Jones +in a dreamy whisper.</p> +<p>A short silence ensued, which Ricardo ended in a discreet and tentative +voice.</p> +<p>“Talking of luck, I suppose he could be made to take a hand +with you, sir - two-handed picket or ekkarty, you being seedy and keeping +indoors - just to pass the time. For all we know, he may be one +of them hot ones once they start - ”</p> +<p>“Is it likely?” came coldly from the principal. +“Considering what we know of his history - say with his partner.”</p> +<p>“True, sir. He’s a cold-blooded beast; a cold-blooded, +inhuman - ”</p> +<p>“And I’ll tell you another thing that isn’t likely. +He would not be likely to let himself be stripped bare. We haven’t +to do with a young fool that can be led on by chaff or flattery, and +in the end simply overawed. This is a calculating man.”</p> +<p>Ricardo recognized that clearly. What he had in his mind was +something on a small scale, just to keep the enemy busy while he, Ricardo, +had time to nose around a bit.</p> +<p>“You could even lose a little money to him, sir,” he +suggested.</p> +<p>“I could.”</p> +<p>Ricardo was thoughtful for a moment.</p> +<p>“He strikes me, too, as the sort of man to start prancing when +one didn’t expect it. What do you think, sir? Is he +a man that would prance? That is, if something startled him. +More likely to prance than to run - what?”</p> +<p>The answer came at once, because Mr. Jones understood the peculiar +idiom of his faithful follower.</p> +<p>“Oh, without doubt! Without doubt!”</p> +<p>“It does me good to hear that you think so. He’s +a prancing beast, and so we mustn’t startle him - not till I have +located the stuff. Afterwards - ”</p> +<p>Ricardo paused, sinister in the stillness of his pose. Suddenly +he got up with a swift movement and gazed down at his chief in moody +abstraction. Mr. Jones did not stir.</p> +<p>“There’s one thing that’s worrying me,” began +Ricardo in a subdued voice.</p> +<p>“Only one?” was the faint comment from the motionless +body on the bedstead.</p> +<p>“I mean more than all the others put together.”</p> +<p>“That’s grave news.”</p> +<p>“Ay, grave enough. It’s this - how do you feel +in yourself, sir? Are you likely to get bored? I know them +fits come on you suddenly; but surely you can tell - ”</p> +<p>“Martin, you are an ass.”</p> +<p>The moody face of the secretary brightened up.</p> +<p>“Really, sir? Well, I am quite content to be on these +terms - I mean as long as you don’t get bored. It wouldn’t +do, sir.”</p> +<p>For coolness, Ricardo had thrown open his shirt and rolled up his +sleeves. He moved stealthily across the room, bare-footed, towards +the candle, the shadow of his head and shoulders growing bigger behind +him on the opposite wall, to which the face of plain Mr. Jones was turned. +With a feline movement, Ricardo glanced over his shoulder at the thin +back of the spectre reposing on the bed, and then blew out the candle.</p> +<p>“In fact, I am rather amused, Martin,” Mr. Jones said +in the dark.</p> +<p>He heard the sound of a slapped thigh and the jubilant exclamation +of his henchman:</p> +<p>“Good! That’s the way to talk, sir!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h2>PART FOUR</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER ONE</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Ricardo advanced prudently by short darts from one tree-trunk to +another, more in the manner of a squirrel than a cat. The sun +had risen some time before. Already the sparkle of open sea was +encroaching rapidly on the dark, cool, early-morning blue of Diamond +Bay; but the deep dusk lingered yet under the mighty pillars of the +forest, between which the secretary dodged.</p> +<p>He was watching Number One’s bungalow with an animal-like patience, +if with a very human complexity of purpose. This was the second +morning of such watching. The first one had not been rewarded +by success. Well, strictly speaking, there was no hurry.</p> +<p>The sun, swinging above the ridge all at once, inundated with light +the space of burnt grass in front of Ricardo and the face of the bungalow, +on which his eyes were fixed, leaving only the one dark spot of the +doorway. To his right, to his left, and behind him, splashes of +gold appeared in the deep shade of the forest, thinning the gloom under +the ragged roof of leaves.</p> +<p>This was not a very favourable circumstance for Ricardo’s purpose. +He did not wish to be detected in his patient occupation. For +what he was watching for was a sight of the girl - that girl! just a +glimpse across the burnt patch to see what she was like. He had +excellent eyes, and the distance was not so great. He would be +able to distinguish her face quite easily if she only came out on the +veranda; and she was bound to do that sooner or later. He was +confident that he could form some opinion about her - which, he felt, +was very necessary, before venturing on some steps to get in touch with +her behind that Swedish baron’s back. His theoretical view +of the girl was such that he was quite prepared, on the strength of +that distant examination, to show himself discreetly - perhaps even +make a sign. It all depended on his reading of the face. +She couldn’t be much. He knew that sort!</p> +<p>By protruding his head a little he commanded, through the foliage +of a festooning creeper, a view of the three bungalows. Irregularly +disposed along a flat curve, over the veranda rail of the farthermost +one hung a dark rug of a tartan pattern, amazingly conspicuous. +Ricardo could see the very checks. A brisk fire of sticks was +burning on the ground in front of the steps, and in the sunlight the +thin, fluttering flame had paled almost to invisibility - a mere rosy +stir under a faint wreath of smoke. He could see the white bandage +on the head of Pedro bending over it, and the wisps of black hair standing +up weirdly. He had wound that bandage himself, after breaking +that shaggy and enormous head. The creature balanced it like a +load, staggering towards the steps. Ricardo could see a small, +long-handled saucepan at the end of a great hairy paw.</p> +<p>Yes, he could see all that there was to be seen, far and near. +Excellent eyes! The only thing they could not penetrate was the +dark oblong of the doorway on the veranda under the low eaves of the +bungalow’s roof. And that was vexing. It was an outrage. +Ricardo was easily outraged. Surely she would come out presently! +Why didn’t she? Surely the fellow did not tie her up to +the bedpost before leaving the house!</p> +<p>Nothing appeared. Ricardo was as still as the leafy cables +of creepers depending in a convenient curtain from the mighty limb sixty +feet above his head. His very eyelids were still, and this unblinking +watchfulness gave him the dreamy air of a cat posed on a hearth-rug +contemplating the fire. Was he dreaming? There, in plain +sight, he had before him a white, blouse-like jacket, short blue trousers, +a pair of bare yellow calves, a pigtail, long and slender -</p> +<p>“The confounded Chink!” he muttered, astounded.</p> +<p>He was not conscious of having looked away; and yet right there, +in the middle of the picture, without having come round the right-hand +corner or the left-hand corner of the house, without falling from the +sky or surging up from the ground, Wang had become visible, large as +life, and engaged in the young-ladyish occupation of picking flowers. +Step by step, stooping repeatedly over the flower-beds at the foot of +the veranda, the startlingly materialized Chinaman passed off the scene +in a very commonplace manner, by going up the steps and disappearing +in the darkness of the doorway.</p> +<p>Only then the yellow eyes of Martin Ricardo lost their intent fixity. +He understood that it was time for him to be moving. That bunch +of flowers going into the house in the hand of a Chinaman was for the +breakfast-table. What else could it be for?</p> +<p>“I’ll give you flowers!” he muttered threateningly. +“You wait!”</p> +<p>Another moment, just for a glance towards the Jones bungalow, whence +he expected Heyst to issue on his way to that breakfast so offensively +decorated, and Ricardo began his retreat. His impulse, his desire, +was for a rush into the open, face to face with the appointed victim, +for what he called a “ripping up,” visualized greedily, +and always with the swift preliminary stooping movement on his part +- the forerunner of certain death to his adversary. This was his +impulse; and as it was, so to speak, constitutional, it was extremely +difficult to resist when his blood was up. What could be more +trying than to have to skulk and dodge and restrain oneself, mentally +and physically, when one’s blood was up? Mr. Secretary Ricardo +began his retreat from his post of observation behind a tree opposite +Heyst’s bungalow, using great care to remain unseen. His +proceedings were made easier by the declivity of the ground, which sloped +sharply down to the water’s edge. There, his feet feeling +the warmth of the island’s rocky foundation already heated by +the sun, through the thin soles of his straw slippers he was, as it +were, sunk out of sight of the houses. A short scramble of some +twenty feet brought him up again to the upper level, at the place where +the jetty had its root in the shore. He leaned his back against +one of the lofty uprights which still held up the company’s signboard +above the mound of derelict coal. Nobody could have guessed how +much his blood was up. To contain himself he folded his arms tightly +on his breast.</p> +<p>Ricardo was not used to a prolonged effort of self-control. +His craft, his artfulness, felt themselves always at the mercy of his +nature, which was truly feral and only held in subjection by the influence +of the “governor,” the prestige of a gentleman. It +had its cunning too, but it was being almost too severely tried since +the feral solution of a growl and a spring was forbidden by the problem. +Ricardo dared not venture out on the cleared ground. He dared +not.</p> +<p>“If I meet the beggar,” he thought, “I don’t +know what I mayn’t do. I daren’t trust myself.”</p> +<p>What exasperated him just now was his inability to understand Heyst. +Ricardo was human enough to suffer from the discovery of his limitations. +No, he couldn’t size Heyst up. He could kill him with extreme +ease - a growl and a spring - but that was forbidden! However, +he could not remain indefinitely under the funereal blackboard.</p> +<p>“I must make a move,” he thought.</p> +<p>He moved on, his head swimming a little with the repressed desire +of violence, and came out openly in front of the bungalows, as if he +had just been down to the jetty to look at the boat. The sunshine +enveloped him, very brilliant, very still, very hot. The three +buildings faced him. The one with the rug on the balustrade was +the most distant; next to it was the empty bungalow; the nearest, with +the flower-beds at the foot of its veranda, contained that bothersome +girl, who had managed so provokingly to keep herself invisible. +That was why Ricardo’s eyes lingered on that building. The +girl would surely be easier to “size up” than Heyst. +A sight of her, a mere glimpse, would have been something to go by, +a step nearer to the goal - the first real move, in fact. Ricardo +saw no other move. And any time she might appear on that veranda!</p> +<p>She did not appear; but, like a concealed magnet, she exercised her +attraction. As he went on, he deviated towards the bungalow. +Though his movements were deliberate, his feral instincts had such sway +that if he had met Heyst walking towards him, he would have had to satisfy +his need of violence. But he saw nobody. Wang was at the +back of the house, keeping the coffee hot against Number One’s +return for breakfast. Even the simian Pedro was out of sight, +no doubt crouching on the door-step, his red little eyes fastened with +animal-like devotion on Mr. Jones, who was in discourse with Heyst in +the other bungalow - the conversation of an evil spectre with a disarmed +man, watched by an ape.</p> +<p>His will having very little to do with it, Ricardo, darting swift +glances in all directions, found himself at the steps of the Heyst bungalow. +Once there, falling under an uncontrollable force of attraction, he +mounted them with a savage and stealthy action of his limbs, and paused +for a moment under the eaves to listen to the silence. Presently +he advanced over the threshold one leg - it seemed to stretch itself, +like a limb of india-rubber - planted his foot within, brought up the +other swiftly, and stood inside the room, turning his head from side +to side. To his eyes, brought in there from the dazzling sunshine, +all was gloom for a moment. His pupils, like a cat’s, dilating +swiftly, he distinguished an enormous quantity of books. He was +amazed; and he was put off too. He was vexed in his astonishment. +He had meant to note the aspect and nature of things, and hoped to draw +some useful inference, some hint as to the man. But what guess +could one make out of a multitude of books? He didn’t know +what to think; and he formulated his bewilderment in the mental exclamation:</p> +<p>“What the devil has this fellow been trying to set up here +- a school?”</p> +<p>He gave a prolonged stare to the portrait of Heyst’s father, +that severe profile ignoring the vanities of this earth. His eyes +gleamed sideways at the heavy silver candlesticks - signs of opulence. +He prowled as a stray cat entering a strange place might have done, +for if Ricardo had not Wang’s miraculous gift of materializing +and vanishing, rather than coming and going, he could be nearly as noiseless +in his less elusive movements. He noted the back door standing +just ajar; and an the time his slightly pointed ears, at the utmost +stretch of watchfulness, kept in touch with the profound silence outside +enveloping the absolute stillness of the house.</p> +<p>He had not been in the room two minutes when it occurred to him that +he must be alone in the bungalow. The woman, most likely, had +sneaked out and was walking about somewhere in the grounds at the back. +She had been probably ordered to keep out of sight. Why? +Because the fellow mistrusted his guests; or was it because he mistrusted +<i>her</i>?</p> +<p>Ricardo reflected that from a certain point of view it amounted nearly +to the same thing. He remembered Schomberg’s story. +He felt that running away with somebody only to get clear of that beastly, +tame, hotel-keeper’s attention was no proof of hopeless infatuation. +She could be got in touch with.</p> +<p>His moustaches stirred. For some time he had been looking at +a closed door. He would peep into that other room, and perhaps +see something more informing than a confounded lot of books. As +he crossed over, he thought recklessly:</p> +<p>“If the beggar comes in suddenly, and starts to prance, I’ll +rip him up and be done with it!”</p> +<p>He laid his hand on the handle, and felt the door come unlatched. +Before he pulled it open, he listened again to the silence. He +felt it all about him, complete, without a flaw.</p> +<p>The necessity of prudence had exasperated his self-restraint. +A mood of ferocity woke up in him, and, as always at such times, he +became physically aware of the sheeted knife strapped to his leg. +He pulled at the door with fierce curiosity. It came open without +a squeak of hinge, without a rustle, with no sound at all; and he found +himself glaring at the opaque surface of some rough blue stuff, like +serge. A curtain was fitted inside, heavy enough and long enough +not to stir.</p> +<p>A curtain! This unforeseen veil, baffling his curiosity checked +his brusqueness. He did not fling it aside with an impatient movement; +he only looked at it closely, as if its texture had to be examined before +his hand could touch such stuff. In this interval of hesitation, +he seemed to detect a flaw in the perfection of the silence, the faintest +possible rustle, which his ears caught and instantly, in the effort +of conscious listening, lost again. No! Everything was still +inside and outside the house, only he had no longer the sense of being +alone there.</p> +<p>When he put out his hand towards the motionless folds it was with +extreme caution, and merely to push the stuff aside a little, advancing +his head at the same time to peep within. A moment of complete +immobility ensued. Then, without anything else of him stirring, +Ricardo’s head shrank back on his shoulders, his arm descended +slowly to his side. There was a woman in there. The very +woman! Lighted dimly by the reflection of the outer glare, she +loomed up strangely big and shadowy at the other end of the long, narrow +room. With her back to the door, she was doing her hair with bare +arms uplifted. One of them gleamed pearly white; the other detached +its perfect form in black against the unshuttered, uncurtained square +window-hole. She was there, her fingers busy with her dark hair, +utterly unconscious, exposed and defenceless - and tempting.</p> +<p>Ricardo drew back one foot and pressed his elbows close to his sides; +his chest started heaving convulsively as if he were wrestling or running +a race; his body began to sway gently back and forth. The self-restraint +was at an end: his psychology must have its way. The instinct +for the feral spring could no longer be denied. Ravish or kill +- it was all one to him, as long as by the act he liberated the suffering +soul of savagery repressed for so long. After a quick glance over +his shoulder, which hunters of big game tell us no lion or tiger omits +to give before charging home, Ricardo charged, head down, straight at +the curtain. The stuff, tossed up violently by his rush, settled +itself with a slow, floating descent Into vertical folds, motionless, +without a shudder even, in the still, warm air.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER TWO</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The clock - which once upon a time had measured the hours of philosophic +meditation - could not have ticked away more than five seconds when +Wang materialized within the living-room. His concern primarily +was with the delayed breakfast, but at once his slanting eyes became +immovably fixed upon the unstirring curtain. For it was behind +it that he had located the strange, deadened scuffling sounds which +filled the empty room. The slanting eyes of his race could not +achieve a round, amazed stare, but they remained still, dead still, +and his impassive yellow face grew all at once careworn and lean with +the sudden strain of intense, doubtful, frightened watchfulness. +Contrary impulses swayed his body, rooted to the floor-mats. He +even went so far as to extend his hand towards the curtain. He +could not reach it, and he didn’t make the necessary step forward.</p> +<p>The mysterious struggle was going on with confused thuds of bare +feet, in a mute wrestling match, no human sound, hiss, groan, murmur, +or exclamation coming through the curtain. A chair fell over, +not with a crash but lightly, as if just grazed, and a faint metallic +ring of the tin bath succeeded. Finally the tense silence, as +of two adversaries locked in a deadly grip, was ended by the heavy, +dull thump of a soft body flung against the inner partition of planks. +It seemed to shake the whole bungalow. By that time, walking backward, +his eyes, his very throat, strained with fearful excitement, his extended +arm still pointing at the curtain, Wang had disappeared through the +back door. Once out in the compound, he bolted round the end of +the house. Emerging innocently between the two bungalows he lingered +and lounged in the open, where anybody issuing from any of the dwellings +was bound to see him - a self-possessed Chinaman idling there, with +nothing but perhaps an unserved breakfast on his mind.</p> +<p>It was at this time that Wang made up his mind to give up all connection +with Number One, a man not only disarmed but already half vanquished. +Till that morning he had had doubts as to his course of action, but +this overheard scuffle decided the question. Number One was a +doomed man - one of those beings whom it is unlucky to help. Even +as he walked in the open with a fine air of unconcern, Wang wondered +that no sound of any sort was to be heard inside the house. For +all he knew, the white woman might have been scuffling in there with +an evil spirit, which had of course killed her. For nothing visible +came out of the house he watched out of the slanting comer of his eye. +The sunshine and the silence outside the bungalow reigned undisturbed.</p> +<p>But in the house the silence of the big room would not have struck +an acute ear as perfect. It was troubled by a stir so faint that +it could hardly be called a ghost of whispering from behind the curtain.</p> +<p>Ricardo, feeling his throat with tender care, breathed out admiringly:</p> +<p>“You have fingers like steel. Jimminy! You have +muscles like a giant!”</p> +<p>Luckily for Lena, Ricardo’s onset had been so sudden - she +was winding her two heavy tresses round her head - that she had no time +to lower her arms. This, which saved them from being pinned to +her sides, gave her a better chance to resist. His spring had +nearly thrown her down. Luckily, again, she was standing so near +the wall that, though she was driven against it headlong, yet the shock +was not heavy enough to knock all the breath out of her body. +On the contrary, it helped her first instinctive attempt to drive her +assailant backward.</p> +<p>After the first gasp of a surprise that was really too over-powering +for a cry, she was never in doubt of the nature of her danger. +She defended herself in the full, clear knowledge of it, from the force +of instinct which is the true source of every great display of energy, +and with a determination which could hardly have been expected from +a girl who, cornered in a dim corridor by the red-faced, stammering +Schomberg, had trembled with shame, disgust, and fear; had drooped, +terrified, before mere words spluttered out odiously by a man who had +never in his life laid his big paw on her.</p> +<p>This new enemy’s attack was simple, straightforward violence. +It was not the slimy, underhand plotting to deliver her up like a slave, +which had sickened her heart and had made her feel in her loneliness +that her oppressors were too many for her. She was no longer alone +in the world now. She resisted without a moment of faltering, +because she was no longer deprived of moral support; because she was +a human being who counted; because she was no longer defending herself +for herself alone; because of the faith that had been born in her - +the faith in the man of her destiny, and perhaps in the Heaven which +had sent him so wonderfully to cross her path.</p> +<p>She had defended herself principally by maintaining a desperate, +murderous clutch on Ricardo’s windpipe, till she felt a sudden +relaxation of the terrific hug in which he stupidly and ineffectually +persisted to hold her. Then with a supreme effort of her arms +and of her suddenly raised knee, she sent him flying against the partition. +The cedar-wood chest stood in the way, and Ricardo, with a thump which +boomed hollow through the whole bungalow, fell on it in a sitting posture, +half strangled, and exhausted not so much by the efforts as by the emotions +of the struggle.</p> +<p>With the recoil of her exerted strength, she too reeled, staggered +back, and sat on the edge of the bed. Out of breath, but calm +and unabashed, she busied herself in readjusting under her arms the +brown and yellow figured Celebes sarong, the tuck of which had come +undone during the fight. Then, folding her bare arms tightly on +her breast, she leaned forward on her crossed legs, determined and without +fear.</p> +<p>Ricardo, leaning forward too, his nervous force gone, crestfallen +like a beast of prey that has missed its spring, met her big grey eyes +looking at him - wide open, observing, mysterious - from under the dark +arches of her courageous eyebrows. Their faces were not a foot +apart. He ceased feeling about his aching throat and dropped the +palms of his hands heavily on his knees. He was not looking at +her bare shoulders, at her strong arms; he was looking down at the floor. +He had lost one of his straw slippers. A chair with a white dress +on it had been overturned. These, with splashes of water on the +floor out of a brusquely misplaced sponge-bath, were the only traces +of the struggle.</p> +<p>Ricardo swallowed twice consciously, as if to make sure of his throat +before he spoke again:</p> +<p>“All right. I never meant to hurt you - though I am no +joker when it comes to it.”</p> +<p>He pulled up the leg of his pyjamas to exhibit the strapped knife. +She glanced at it without moving her head, and murmured with scornful +bitterness:</p> +<p>“Ah, yes - with that thing stuck in my side. In no other +way.”</p> +<p>He shook his head with a shamefaced smile.</p> +<p>“Listen! I am quiet now. Straight - I am. +I don’t need to explain why - you know how it is. And I +can see, now, this wasn’t the way with you.”</p> +<p>She made no sound. Her still, upward gaze had a patient, mournfulness +which troubled him like a suggestion of an inconceivable depth. +He added thoughtfully:</p> +<p>“You are not going to make a noise about this silly try of +mine?”</p> +<p>She moved her head the least bit.</p> +<p>“Jee-miny! You are a wonder - ” he murmured earnestly, +relieved more than she could have guessed.</p> +<p>Of course, if she had attempted to run out, he would have stuck the +knife between her shoulders, to stop her screaming; but all the fat +would have been in the fire, the business utterly spoiled, and the rage +of the governor - especially when he learned the cause - boundless. +A woman that does not make a noise after an attempt of that kind has +tacitly condoned the offence. Ricardo had no small vanities. +But clearly, if she would pass it over like this, then he could not +be so utterly repugnant to her. He felt flattered. And she +didn’t seem afraid of him either. He already felt almost +tender towards the girl - that plucky, fine girl who had not tried to +run screaming from him.</p> +<p>“We shall be friends yet. I don’t give you up. +Don’t think it. Friends as friends can be!” he whispered +confidently. “Jee-miny! You aren’t a tame one. +Neither am I. You will find that out before long.”</p> +<p>He could not know that if she had not run out, it was because that +morning, under the sum of growing uneasiness at the presence of the +incomprehensible visitors, Heyst had confessed to her that it was his +revolver he had been looking for in the night; that it was gone, that +he was a disarmed, defenceless man. She had hardly comprehended +the meaning of his confession. Now she understood better what +it meant. The effort of her self-control, her stillness, impressed +Ricardo. Suddenly she spoke:</p> +<p>“What are you after?”</p> +<p>He did not raise his eyes. His hands reposing on his knees, +his drooping head, something reflective in his pose, suggested the weariness +of a simple soul, the fatigue of a mental rather than physical contest. +He answered the direct question by a direct statement, as if he were +too tired to dissemble:</p> +<p>“After the swag.”</p> +<p>The word was strange to her. The veiled ardour of her grey +gaze from under the dark eyebrows never left Ricardo’s.</p> +<p>“A swag?” she murmured quietly. “What’s +that?”</p> +<p>“Why, swag, plunder - what your gentleman has been pinching +right and left for years - the pieces. Don’t you know? +This!”</p> +<p>Without looking up, he made the motion of counting money into the +palm of his hand. She lowered her eyes slightly to observe this +bit of pantomime, but returned them to his face at once. Then, +in a mere breath:</p> +<p>“How do you know anything about him?” she asked, concealing +her puzzled alarm. “What has it got to do with you?”</p> +<p>“Everything,” was Ricardo’s concise answer, in +a low, emphatic whisper. He reflected that this girl was really +his best hope. Out of the unfaded impression of past violence +there was growing the sort of sentiment which prevents a man from being +indifferent to a woman he has once held in his arms - if even against +her will - and still more so if she has pardoned the outrage. +It becomes then a sort of bond. He felt positively the need to +confide in her - a subtle trait of masculinity, this almost physical +need of trust which can exist side by side with the most brutal readiness +of suspicion.</p> +<p>“It’s a game of grab - see?” he went on, with a +new inflection of intimacy in his murmur. He was looking straight +at her now.</p> +<p>“That fat, tame slug of a gin-slinger, Schomberg, put us up +to it.”</p> +<p>So strong is the impression of helpless and persecuted misery, that +the girl who had fought down a savage assault without faltering could +not completely repress a shudder at the mere sound of the abhorred name.</p> +<p>Ricardo became more rapid and confidential:</p> +<p>“He wants to pay him off - pay both of you, at that; so he +told me. He was hot after you. He would have given all he +had into those hands of yours that have nearly strangled me. But +you couldn’t, eh? Nohow - what?” He paused. +“So, rather than - you followed a gentleman?”</p> +<p>He noticed a slight movement of her head and spoke quickly.</p> +<p>“Same here - rather than be a wage-slave. Only these +foreigners aren’t to be trusted. You’re too good for +him. A man that will rob his best chum?” She raised her +head. He went on, well pleased with his progress, whispering hurriedly: +“Yes. I know all about him. So you may guess how he’s +likely to treat a woman after a bit!”</p> +<p>He did not know that he was striking terror into her breast now. +Still the grey eyes remained fixed on him unmovably watchful, as if +sleepy under the white forehead. She was beginning to understand. +His words conveyed a definite, dreadful meaning to her mind, which he +proceeded to enlighten further in a convinced murmur.</p> +<p>“You and I are made to understand each other. Born alike, +bred alike, I guess. You are not tame. Same here! +You have been chucked out into this rotten world of ’yporcrits. +Same here!”</p> +<p>Her stillness, her appalled stillness, wore to him an air of fascinated +attention. He asked abruptly:</p> +<p>“Where is it?”</p> +<p>She made an effort to breathe out:</p> +<p>“Where’s what?”</p> +<p>His tone expressed excited secrecy.</p> +<p>“The swag - plunder - pieces. It’s a game of grab. +We must have it; but it isn’t easy, and so you will have to lend +a hand. Come! is it kept in the house?”</p> +<p>As often with women, her wits were sharpened by the very terror of +the glimpsed menace. She shook her head negatively.</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Sure?”</p> +<p>“Sure,” she said.</p> +<p>“Ay! Thought so. Does your gentleman trust you?”</p> +<p>Again she shook her head.</p> +<p>“Blamed ’yporcrit,” he said feelingly, and then +reflected: “He’s one of the tame ones, ain’t he?”</p> +<p>“You had better find out for yourself,” she said.</p> +<p>“You trust me. I don’t want to die before you and +I have made friends.” This was said with a strange air of +feline gallantry. Then, tentatively: “But he could be brought +to trust you, couldn’t he?”</p> +<p>“Trust me?” she said, in a tone which bordered on despair, +but which he mistook for derision.</p> +<p>“Stand in with us,” he urged. “Give the chuck +to all this blamed ’yporcrisy. Perhaps, without being trusted, +you have managed to find out something already, eh?”</p> +<p>“Perhaps I have,” she uttered with lips that seemed to +her to be freezing fast.</p> +<p>Ricardo now looked at her calm face with something like respect. +He was even a little awed by her stillness, by her economy of words. +Womanlike, she felt the effect she had produced, the effect of knowing +much and of keeping all her knowledge in reserve. So far, somehow, +this had come, about of itself. Thus encouraged, directed in the +way of duplicity, the refuge of the weak, she made a heroically conscious +effort and forced her stiff, cold lips into a smile.</p> +<p>Duplicity - the refuge of the weak and the cowardly, but of the disarmed, +too! Nothing stood between the enchanted dream of her existence +and a cruel catastrophe but her duplicity. It seemed to her that +the man sitting there before her was an unavoidable presence, which +had attended all her life. He was the embodied evil of the world. +She was not ashamed of her duplicity. With a woman’s frank +courage, as soon as she saw that opening she threw herself into it without +reserve, with only one doubt - that of her own strength. She was +appalled by the situation; but already all her aroused femininity, understanding +that whether Heyst loved her or not she loved him, and feeling that +she had brought this on his head, faced the danger with a passionate +desire to defend her own.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER THREE</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>To Ricardo the girl had been so unforeseen that he was unable to +bring upon her the light of his critical faculties. Her smile +appeared to him full of promise. He had not expected her to be +what she was. Who, from the talk he had heard, could expect to +meet a girl like this? She was a blooming miracle, he said to +himself, familiarly, yet with a tinge of respect. She was no meat +for the likes of that tame, respectable gin-slinger. Ricardo grew +hot with indignation. Her courage, her physical strength, demonstrated +at the cost of his discomfiture, commanded his sympathy. He felt +himself drawn to her by the proofs of her amazing spirit. Such +a girl! She had a strong soul; and her reflective disposition +to throw over her connection proved that she was no hypocrite.</p> +<p>“Is your gentleman a good shot?” he said, looking down +on the floor again, as if indifferent.</p> +<p>She hardly understood the phrase; but in its form it suggested some +accomplishment. It was safe to whisper an affirmative.</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Mine, too - and better than good,” Ricardo murmured, +and then, in a confidential burst: “I am not so good at it, but +I carry a pretty deadly thing about me, all the same!”</p> +<p>He tapped his leg. She was past the stage of shudders now. +Stiff all over, unable even to move her eyes, she felt an awful mental +tension which was like blank forgetfulness. Ricardo tried to influence +her in his own way.</p> +<p>“And my gentleman is not the sort that would drop me. +He ain’t no foreigner; whereas you, with your baron, you don’t +know what’s before you - or, rather, being a woman, you know only +too well. Much better not to wait for the chuck. Pile in +with us and get your share - of the plunder, I mean. You have +some notion about it already.”</p> +<p>She felt that if she as much as hinted by word or sign that there +was no such thing on the island, Heyst’s life wouldn’t be +worth half an hour’s purchase; but all power of combining words +had vanished in the tension of her mind. Words themselves were +too difficult to think of - all except the word “yes,” the +saving word! She whispered it with not a feature of her face moving. +To Ricardo the faint and concise sound proved a cool, reserved assent, +more worth having from that amazing mistress of herself than a thousand +words from any other woman. He thought with exultation that he +had come upon one in a million - in ten millions! His whisper +became frankly entreating.</p> +<p>“That’s good! Now all you’ve got to do is +to make sure where he keeps his swag. Only do be quick about it! +I can’t stand much longer this crawling-on-the-stomach business +so as not to scare your gentleman. What do you think a fellow +is - a reptile?”</p> +<p>She stared without seeing anyone, as a person in the night sits staring +and listening to deadly sounds, to evil incantations. And always +in her head there was that tension of the mind trying to get hold of +something, of a saving idea which seemed to be so near and could not +be captured. Suddenly she seized it. Yes - she had to get +that man out of the house. At that very moment, raised outside, +not very near, but heard distinctly, Heyst’s voice uttered the +words:</p> +<p>“Have you been looking out for me, Wang?”</p> +<p>It was for her like a flash of lightning framed in the darkness which +had beset her on all sides, showing a deadly precipice right under her +feet. With a convulsive movement she sat up straight, but had +no power to rise. Ricardo, on the contrary, was on his feet on +the instant, as noiseless as a cat. His yellow eyes gleamed, gliding +here and there; but he too seemed unable to make another movement. +Only his moustaches stirred visibly, like the feelers of some animal.</p> +<p>Wang’s answer, “<i>Ya tuan</i>,” was heard by the +two in the room, but more faintly. Then Heyst again:</p> +<p>“All right! You may bring the coffee in. Mem Putih +out in the room yet?”</p> +<p>To this question Wang made no answer.</p> +<p>Ricardo’s and the girl’s eyes met, utterly without expression, +all their faculties being absorbed in listening for the first sound +of Heyst’s footsteps, for any sound outside which would mean that +Ricardo’s retreat was cut off. Both understood perfectly +well that Wang must have gone round the house, and that he was now at +the back, making it impossible for Ricardo to slip out unseen that way +before Heyst came in at the front.</p> +<p>A darkling shade settled on the face of the devoted secretary. +Here was the business utterly spoiled! It was the gloom of anger, +and even of apprehension. He would perhaps have made a dash for +it through the back door, if Heyst had not been heard ascending the +front steps. He climbed them slowly, very slowly, like a man who +is discouraged or weary - or simply thoughtful; and Ricardo had a mental +vision of his face, with its martial moustache, the lofty forehead, +the impassive features, and the quiet, meditative eyes. Trapped! +Confound it! After all, perhaps the governor was right. +Women had to be shunned. Fooling with this one had apparently +ruined the whole business. For, trapped as he was he might just +as well kill, since, anyhow, to be seen was to be unmasked. But +he was too fair-minded to be angry with the girl.</p> +<p>Heyst had paused on the veranda, or in the very doorway.</p> +<p>“I shall be shot down like a dog if I ain’t quick,” +Ricardo muttered excitedly to the girl.</p> +<p>He stooped to get hold of his knife; and the next moment would have +hurled himself out through the curtain, nearly, as prompt and fully +as deadly to Heyst as an unexpected thunderbolt. The feel more +than the strength of the girl’s hand, clutching at his shoulder, +checked him. He swung round, crouching with a yellow upward glare. +Ah! Was she turning against him?</p> +<p>He would have stuck his knife into the hollow of her bare throat +if he had not seen her other hand pointing to the window. It was +a long opening, high up, close under the ceiling almost, with a single +pivoting shutter.</p> +<p>While he was still looking at it she moved noiselessly away, picking +up the overturned chair, and placed it under the wall. Then she +looked round; but he didn’t need to be beckoned to. In two +long, tiptoeing strides he was at her side.</p> +<p>“Be quick!” she gasped.</p> +<p>He seized her hand and wrung it with all the force of his dumb gratitude, +as a man does to a chum when there is no time for words. Then +he mounted the chair. Ricardo was short - too short to get over +without a noisy scramble. He hesitated an instant; she, watchful, +bore rigidly on the seat with her beautiful bare arms, while, light +and sure, he used the back of the chair as a ladder. The masses +of her brown hair fell all about her face.</p> +<p>Footsteps resounded in the next room, and Heyst’s voice, not +very loud, called her by name.</p> +<p>“Lena!”</p> +<p>“Yes! In a minute,” she answered with a particular +intonation which she knew would prevent Heyst from coming in at once.</p> +<p>When she looked up, Ricardo had vanished, letting himself down outside +so lightly that she had not heard the slightest noise. She stood +up then, bewildered, frightened, as if awakened from a drugged sleep, +with heavy, downcast, unseeing eyes, her fortitude tired out, her imagination +as if dead within her and unable to keep her fear alive.</p> +<p>Heyst moved about aimlessly in the other room. This sound roused +her exhausted wits. At once she began to think, hear, see; and +what she saw - or rather recognized, for her eyes had been resting on +it all the time - was Ricardo’s straw slipper, lost in the scuffle, +lying near the bath. She had just time to step forward and plant +her foot on it when the curtains shook, and, pushed aside, disclosed +Heyst in the doorway.</p> +<p>Out of the appeased enchantment of the senses she had found with +him, like a sort of bewitched state, his danger brought a sensation +of warmth to her breast. She felt something stir in there, something +profound, like a new sort of life.</p> +<p>The room was in partial darkness, Ricardo having accidentally swung +the pivoted shutter as he went out of the window. Heyst peered +from the doorway.</p> +<p>“Why, you haven’t done your hair yet,” he said.</p> +<p>“I won’t stop to do it now. I shan’t be long,” +she replied steadily, and remained still, feeling Ricardo’s slipper +under the sole of her foot.</p> +<p>Heyst, with a movement of retreat, let the curtain drop slowly. +On the instant she stooped for the slipper, and, with it in her hand, +spun round wildly, looking for some hiding-place; but there was no such +spot in the bare room. The chest, the leather bunk, a dress or +two of hers hanging on pegs - there was no place where the merest hazard +might not guide Heyst’s hand at any moment. Her wildly roaming +eyes were caught by the half-closed window. She ran to it, and +by raising herself on her toes was able to reach the shutter with her +fingertips. She pushed it square, stole back to the middle of +the room, and, turning about, swung her arm, regulating the force of +the throw so as not to let the slipper fly too far out and hit the edge +of the overhanging eaves. It was a task of the nicest judgement +for the muscles of those round arms, still quivering from the deadly +wrestle with a man, for that brain, tense with the excitement of the +situation and for the unstrung nerves flickering darkness before her +eyes. At last the slipper left her hand. As soon as it passed +the opening, it was out of her sight. She listened. She +did not hear it strike anything; it just vanished, as if it had wings +to fly on through the air. Not a sound! It had gone clear.</p> +<p>Her valiant arms hanging close against her side, she stood as if +turned into stone. A faint whistle reached her ears. The +forgetful Ricardo, becoming very much aware of his loss, had been hanging +about in great anxiety, which was relieved by the appearance of the +slipper flying from under the eaves; and now, thoughtfully, he had ventured +a whistle to put her mind at ease.</p> +<p>Suddenly the girl reeled forward. She saved herself from a +fall only by embracing with both arms one of the tall, roughly carved +posts holding the mosquito net above the bed. For a long time +she dung to it, with her forehead leaning against the wood. One +side of her loosened sarong had slipped down as low as her hip. +The long brown tresses of her hair fell in lank wisps, as if wet, almost +black against her white body. Her uncovered flank, damp with the +sweat of anguish and fatigue, gleamed coldly with the immobility of +polished marble in the hot, diffused light falling through the window +above her head - a dim reflection of the consuming, passionate blaze +of sunshine outside, all aquiver with the effort to set the earth on +fire, to burn it to ashes.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER FOUR</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Heyst, seated at the table with his chin on his breast, raised his +head at the faint rustle of Lena’s dress. He was startled +by the dead pallor of her cheeks, by something lifeless in her eyes, +which looked at him strangely, without recognition. But to his +anxious inquiries she answered reassuringly that there was nothing the +matter with her, really. She had felt giddy on rising. She +had even had a moment of faintness, after her bath. She had to +sit down to wait for it to pass. This had made her late dressing.</p> +<p>“I didn’t try to do my hair. I didn’t want +to keep you waiting any longer,” she said.</p> +<p>He was unwilling to press her with questions about her health, since +she seemed to make light of this indisposition. She had not done +her hair, but she had brushed it, and had tied it with a ribbon behind. +With her forehead uncovered, she looked very young, almost a child, +a careworn child; a child with something on its mind.</p> +<p>What surprised Heyst was the non-appearance of Wang. The Chinaman +had always materialized at the precise moment of his service, neither +too soon nor too late. This time the usual miracle failed. +What was the meaning of this?</p> +<p>Heyst raised his voice - a thing he disliked doing. It was +promptly answered from the compound:</p> +<p>“<i>Ada tuan</i>!”</p> +<p>Lena, leaning on her elbow, with her eyes on her plate, did not seem +to hear anything. When Wang entered with a tray, his narrow eyes, +tilted inward by the prominence of salient cheek-bones, kept her under +stealthy observation all the time. Neither the one nor the other +of that white couple paid the slightest attention to him and he withdrew +without having heard them exchange a single word. He squatted +on his heels on the back veranda. His Chinaman’s mind, very +clear but not far-reaching, was made up according to the plain reason +of things, such as it appeared to him in the light of his simple feeling +for self-preservation, untrammelled by any notions of romantic honour +or tender conscience. His yellow hands, lightly clasped, hung +idly between his knees. The graves of Wang’s ancestors were +far away, his parents were dead, his elder brother was a soldier in +the yamen of some Mandarin away in Formosa. No one near by had +a claim on his veneration or his obedience. He had been for years +a labouring restless vagabond. His only tie in the world was the +Alfuro woman, in exchange for whom he had given away some considerable +part of his hard-earned substance; and his duty, in reason, could be +to no one but himself.</p> +<p>The scuffle behind the curtain was a thing of bad augury for that +Number One for whom the Chinaman had neither love nor dislike. +He had been awed enough by that development to hang back with the coffee-pot +till at last the white man was induced to call him in. Wang went +in with curiosity. Certainly, the white woman looked as if she +had been wrestling with a spirit which had managed to tear half her +blood out of her before letting her go. As to the man, Wang had +long looked upon him as being in some sort bewitched; and now he was +doomed. He heard their voices in the room. Heyst was urging +the girl to go and lie down again. He was extremely concerned. +She had eaten nothing.</p> +<p>“The best thing for you. You really must!”</p> +<p>She sat listless, shaking her head from time to time negatively, +as if nothing could be any good. But he insisted; she saw the +beginning of wonder in his eyes, and suddenly gave way.</p> +<p>“Perhaps I had better.”</p> +<p>She did not want to arouse his wonder, which would lead him straight +to suspicion. He must not suspect!</p> +<p>Already, with the consciousness of her love for this man, of that +something rapturous and profound going beyond the mere embrace, there +was born in her a woman’s innate mistrust of masculinity, of that +seductive strength allied to an absurd, delicate shrinking from the +recognition of the naked necessity of facts, which never yet frightened +a woman worthy of the name. She had no plan; but her mind, quieted +down somewhat by the very effort to preserve outward composure for his +sake, perceived that her behaviour had secured, at any rate, a short +period of safety. Perhaps because of the similarity of their miserable +origin in the dregs of mankind, she had understood Ricardo perfectly. +He would keep quiet for a time now. In this momentarily soothing +certitude her bodily fatigue asserted itself, the more overpoweringly +since its cause was not so much the demand on her strength as the awful +suddenness of the stress she had had to meet. She would have tried +to overcome it from the mere instinct of resistance, if it had not been +for Heyst’s alternate pleadings and commands. Before this +eminently masculine fussing she felt the woman’s need to give +way, the sweetness of surrender.</p> +<p>“I will do anything you like,” she said.</p> +<p>Getting up, she was surprised by a wave of languid weakness that +came over her, embracing and enveloping her like warm water, with a +noise in her ears as of a breaking sea.</p> +<p>“You must help me along,” she added quickly.</p> +<p>While he put his arm round her waist - not by any means an uncommon +thing for him to do - she found a special satisfaction in the feeling +of being thus sustained. She abandoned all her weight to that +encircling and protecting pressure, while a thrill went through her +at the sudden thought that it was she who would have to protect him, +to be the defender of a man who was strong enough to lift her bodily, +as he was doing even then in his two arms. For Heyst had done +this as soon as they had crept through the doorway of the room. +He thought it was quicker and simpler to carry her the last step or +two. He had grown really too anxious to be aware of the effort. +He lifted her high and deposited her on the bed, as one lays a child +on its side in a cot. Then he sat down on the edge, masking his +concern with a smile which obtained no response from the dreamy immobility +of her eyes. But she sought his hand, seized it eagerly; and while +she was pressing it with all the force of which she was capable, the +sleep she needed overtook her suddenly, overwhelmingly, as it overtakes +a child in a cot, with her lips parted for a safe, endearing word which +she had thought of but had no time to utter.</p> +<p>The usual flaming silence brooded over Samburan.</p> +<p>“What in the world is this new mystery?” murmured Heyst +to himself, contemplating her deep slumber.</p> +<p>It was so deep, this enchanted sleep, that when some time afterwards +he gently tried to open her fingers and free his hand, he succeeded +without provoking the slightest stir.</p> +<p>“There is some very simple explanation, no doubt,” he +thought, as he stole out into the living-room.</p> +<p>Absent-mindedly he pulled a book out of the top shelf, and sat down +with it; but even after he had opened it on his knee, and had been staring +at the pages for a time, he had not the slightest idea of what it was +about. He stared and stared at the crowded, parallel lines. +It was only when, raising his eyes for no particular reason, he saw +Wang standing motionless on the other side of the table, that he regained +complete control of his faculties.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes,” he said, as if suddenly reminded of a forgotten +appointment of a not particularly welcome sort.</p> +<p>He waited a little, and then, with reluctant curiosity, forced himself +to ask the silent Wang what he had to say. He had some idea that +the matter of the vanished revolver would come up at last; but the guttural +sounds which proceeded from the Chinaman did not refer to that delicate +subject. His speech was concerned with cups, saucers, plates, +forks, and knives. All these things had been put away in the cupboards +on the back veranda, where they belonged, perfectly clean, “all +plopel.” Heyst wondered at the scrupulosity of a man who +was about to abandon him; for he was not surprised to hear Wang conclude +the account of his stewardship with the words:</p> +<p>“I go now.”</p> +<p>“Oh! You go now?” said Heyst, leaning back, his +book on his knees.</p> +<p>“Yes. Me no likee. One man, two man, three man +- no can do! Me go now.”</p> +<p>“What’s frightening you away like this?” asked +Heyst, while through his mind flashed the hope that something enlightening +might come from that being so unlike himself, taking contact with the +world with a simplicity and directness of which his own mind was not +capable. “Why?” he went on. “You are used +to white men. You know them well.”</p> +<p>“Yes. Me savee them,” assented Wang inscrutably. +“Me savee plenty.”</p> +<p>All that he really knew was his own mind. He had made it up +to withdraw himself and the Alfuro woman from the uncertainties of the +relations which were going to establish themselves between those white +men. It was Pedro who had been the first cause of Wang’s +suspicion and fear. The Chinaman had seen wild men. He had +penetrated, in the train of a Chinese pedlar, up one or two of the Bornean +rivers into the country of the Dyaks. He had also been in the +interior of Mindanao, where there are people who live in trees - savages, +no better than animals; but a hairy brute like Pedro, with his great +fangs and ferocious growls, was altogether beyond his conception of +anything that could be looked upon as human. The strong impression +made on him by Pedro was the prime inducement which had led Wang to +purloin the revolver. Reflection on the general situation, and +on the insecurity of Number One, came later, after he had obtained possession +of the revolver and of the box of cartridges out of the table drawer +in the living-room.</p> +<p>“Oh, you savee plenty about white men,” Heyst went on +in a slightly bantering tone, after a moment of silent reflection in +which he had confessed to himself that the recovery of the revolver +was not to be thought of, either by persuasion or by some more forcible +means. “You speak in that fashion, but you are frightened +of those white men over there.”</p> +<p>“Me no flightened,” protested Wang raucously, throwing +up his head - which gave to his throat a more strained, anxious appearance +than ever. “Me no likee,” he added in a quieter tone. +“Me velly sick.”</p> +<p>He put his hand over the region under the breast-bone.</p> +<p>“That,” said Heyst, serenely positive, “belong +one piecee lie. That isn’t proper man-talk at all. +And after stealing my revolver, too!”</p> +<p>He had suddenly decided to speak about it, because this frankness +could not make the situation much worse than it was. He did not +suppose for a moment that Wang had the revolver anywhere about his person; +and after having thought the matter over, he had arrived at the conclusion +that the Chinaman never meant to use the weapon against him. After +a slight start, because the direct charge had taken him unawares, Wang +tore open the front of his jacket with a convulsive show of indignation.</p> +<p>“No hab got. Look see!” he mouthed in pretended +anger.</p> +<p>He slapped his bare chest violently; he uncovered his very ribs, +all astir with the panting of outraged virtue; his smooth stomach heaved +with indignation. He started his wide blue breeches flapping about +his yellow calves. Heyst watched him quietly.</p> +<p>“I never said you had it on you,” he observed, without +raising his voice; “but the revolver is gone from where I kept +it.”</p> +<p>“Me no savee levolvel,” Wang said obstinately.</p> +<p>The book lying open on Heyst’s knee slipped suddenly and he +made a sharp movement to catch it up. Wang was unable to see the +reason of this because of the table, and leaped away from what seemed +to him a threatening symptom. When Heyst looked up, the Chinaman +was already at the door facing the room, not frightened, but alert.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter?” asked Heyst.</p> +<p>Wang nodded his shaven head significantly at the curtain closing +the doorway of the bedroom.</p> +<p>“Me no likee,” he repeated.</p> +<p>“What the devil do you mean?” Heyst was genuinely amazed. +“Don’t like what?”</p> +<p>Wang pointed a long lemon-coloured finger at the motionless folds.</p> +<p>“Two,” he said.</p> +<p>“Two what? I don’t understand.”</p> +<p>“Suppose you savee, you no like that fashion. Me savee +plenty. Me go now.”</p> +<p>Heyst had risen from his chair, but Wang kept his ground in the doorway +for a little longer. His almond-shaped eyes imparted to his face +an expression of soft and sentimental melancholy. The muscles +of his throat moved visibly while he uttered a distinct and guttural +“Goodbye” and vanished from Number One’s sight.</p> +<p>The Chinaman’s departure altered the situation. Heyst +reflected on what would be best to do in view of that fact. For +a long time he hesitated; then, shrugging his shoulders wearily, he +walked out on the veranda, down the steps, and continued at a steady +gait, with a thoughtful mien, in the direction of his guests’ +bungalow. He wanted to make an important communication to them, +and he had no other object - least of all to give them the shock of +a surprise call. Nevertheless, their brutish henchman not being +on watch, it was Heyst’s fate to startle Mr. Jones and his secretary +by his sudden appearance in the doorway. Their conversation must +have been very interesting to prevent them from hearing the visitor’s +approach. In the dim room - the shutters were kept constantly +closed against the heat - Heyst saw them start apart. It was Mr. +Jones who spoke:</p> +<p>“Ah, here you are again! Come in, come in!”</p> +<p>Heyst, taking his hat off in the doorway, entered the room.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER FIVE</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Waking up suddenly, Lena looked, without raising her head from the +pillow, at the room in which she was alone. She got up quickly, +as if to counteract the awful sinking of her heart by the vigorous use +of her limbs. But this sinking was only momentary. Mistress +of herself from pride, from love, from necessity, and also because of +a woman’s vanity in self-sacrifice, she met Heyst, returning from +the strangers’ bungalow, with a dear glance and a smile.</p> +<p>The smile he managed to answer, but, noticing that he avoided her +eyes, she composed her lips and lowered her gaze. For the same +reason she hastened to speak to him in a tone of indifference, which +she put on without effort, as if she had grown adept in duplicity since +sunrise.</p> +<p>“You have been over there again?”</p> +<p>“I have. I thought - but you had better know first that +we have lost Wang for good.”</p> +<p>She repeated “For good?” as if she had not understood.</p> +<p>“For good or evil - I shouldn’t know which if you were +to ask me. He has dismissed himself. He’s gone.”</p> +<p>“You expected him to go, though, didn’t you?”</p> +<p>Heyst sat down on the other side of the table.</p> +<p>“Yes. I expected it as soon as I discovered that he had +annexed my revolver. He says he hasn’t taken it. That’s +untrue of course. A Chinaman would not see the sense of confessing +under any circumstances. To deny any charge is a principle of +right conduct; but he hardly expected to be believed. He was a +little enigmatic at the last, Lena. He startled me.”</p> +<p>Heyst paused. The girl seemed absorbed in her own thoughts.</p> +<p>“He startled me,” I repeated Heyst. She noted the +anxiety in his tone, and turned her head slightly to look at him across +the table.</p> +<p>“It must have been something - to startle you,” she said. +In the depth of her parted lips, like a ripe pomegranate, there was +a gleam of white teeth.</p> +<p>“It was only a single word - and some of his gestures. +He had been making a good deal of noise. I wonder we didn’t +wake you up. How soundly you can sleep! I say, do you feel +all right now?”</p> +<p>“As fresh as can be,” she said, treating him to another +deep gleam of a smile. “I heard no noise, and I’m +glad of it. The way he talks in his harsh voice frightens me. +I don’t like all these foreign people.”</p> +<p>“It was just before he went away - bolted out, I should say. +He nodded and pointed at the curtain to our room. He knew you +were there, of course. He seemed to think - he seemed to try to +give me to understand that you were in special - well, danger. +You know how he talks.”</p> +<p>She said nothing; she made no sound, only the faint tinge of colour +ebbed out of her cheek.</p> +<p>“Yes,” Heyst went on. “He seemed to try to +warn me. That must have been it Did he imagine I had forgotten +your existence? The only word he said was ‘two’. +It sounded so, at least. Yes, ‘two’ - and that he +didn’t like it.”</p> +<p>“What does that mean?” she whispered.</p> +<p>“We know what the word two means, don’t we, Lena? +We are two. Never were such a lonely two out of the world, my +dear! He might have tried to remind me that he himself has a woman +to look after. Why are you so pale, Lena?”</p> +<p>“Am I pale?” she asked negligently.</p> +<p>“You are.” Heyst was really anxious.</p> +<p>“Well, it isn’t from fright,” she protested truthfully.</p> +<p>Indeed, what she felt was a sort of horror which left her absolutely +in the full possession of all her faculties; more difficult to bear, +perhaps, for that reason, but not paralysing to her fortitude.</p> +<p>Heyst in his turn smiled at her.</p> +<p>“I really don’t know that there is any reason to be frightened.”</p> +<p>“I mean I am not frightened for myself.”</p> +<p>“I believe you are very plucky,” he said. The colour +had returned to her face. “I” continued Heyst, “am +so rebellious to outward impressions that I can’t say that much +about myself. I don’t react with sufficient distinctness.” +He changed his tone. “You know I went to see those men first +thing this morning.”</p> +<p>“I know. Be careful!” she murmured.</p> +<p>“I wonder how one can be careful! I had a long talk with +- but I don’t believe you have seen them. One of them is +a fantastically thin, long person, apparently ailing; I shouldn’t +wonder if he were really so. He makes rather a point of it in +a mysterious manner. I imagine he must have suffered from tropical +fevers, but not so much as he tries to make out. He’s what +people would call a gentleman. He seemed on the point of volunteering +a tale of his adventures - for which I didn’t ask him - but remarked +that it was a long story; some other time, perhaps.</p> +<p>“‘I suppose you would like to know who I am?’ he +asked me.</p> +<p>“I told him I would leave it to him, in a tone which, between +gentlemen, could have left no doubt in his mind. He raised himself +on his elbow - he was lying down on the camp-bed - and said:</p> +<p>“‘I am he who is - ’”</p> +<p>Lena seemed not to be listening; but when Heyst paused, she turned +her head quickly to him. He took it for a movement of inquiry, +but in this he was wrong. A great vagueness enveloped her impressions, +but all her energy was concentrated on the struggle that she wanted +to take upon herself, in a great exaltation of love and self-sacrifice, +which is woman’s sublime faculty; altogether on herself, every +bit of it, leaving him nothing, not even the knowledge of what she did, +if that were possible. She would have liked to lock him up by +some stratagem. Had she known of some means to put him to sleep +for days she would have used incantations or philtres without misgivings. +He seemed to her too good for such contacts, and not sufficiently equipped. +This last feeling had nothing to do with the material fact of the revolver +being stolen. She could hardly appreciate that fact at its full +value.</p> +<p>Observing her eyes fixed and as if sightless - for the concentration +on her purpose took all expression out of them - Heyst imagined it to +be the effect of a great mental effort.</p> +<p>“No use asking me what he meant, Lena; I don’t know, +and I did not ask him. The gentleman, as I have told you before, +seems devoted to mystification. I said nothing, and he laid down +his head again on the bundle of rugs he uses for a pillow. He +affects a state of great weakness, but I suspect that he’s perfectly +capable of leaping to his feet if he likes. Having been ejected, +he said, from his proper social sphere because he had refused to conform +to certain usual conventions, he was a rebel now, and was coming and +going up and down the earth. As I really did not want to listen +to all this nonsense, I told him that I had heard that sort of story +about somebody else before. His grin is really ghastly. +He confessed that I was very far from the sort of man he expected to +meet. Then he said:</p> +<p>“‘As to me, I am no blacker than the gentleman you are +thinking of, and I have neither more nor less determination.’”</p> +<p>Heyst looked across the table at Lena. Propped on her elbows, +and holding her head in both hands, she moved it a little with an air +of understanding.</p> +<p>“Nothing could be plainer, eh?” said Heyst grimly. +“Unless, indeed, this is his idea of a pleasant joke; for, when +he finished speaking, he burst into a loud long laugh. I didn’t +join him!”</p> +<p>“I wish you had,” she breathed out.</p> +<p>“I didn’t join him. It did not occur to me. +I am not much of a diplomatist. It would probably have been wise, +for, indeed, I believe he had said more than he meant to say, and was +trying to take it back by this affected jocularity. Yet when one +thinks of it, diplomacy without force in the background is but a rotten +reed to lean upon. And I don’t know whether I could have +done it if I had thought of it. I don’t know. It would +have been against the grain. Could I have done it? I have +lived too long within myself, watching the mere shadows and shades of +life. To deceive a man on some issue which could be decided quicker, +by his destruction while one is disarmed, helpless, without even the +power to run away - no! That seems to me too degrading. +And yet I have you here. I have your very existence in my keeping. +What do you say, Lena? Would I be capable of throwing you to the +lions to save my dignity?”</p> +<p>She got up, walked quickly round the table, posed herself on his +knees lightly, throwing one arm round his neck, and whispered in his +ear:</p> +<p>“You may if you like. And may be that’s the only +way I would consent to leave you. For something like that. +If it were something no bigger than your little finger.”</p> +<p>She gave him a light kiss on the lips and was gone before he could +detain her. She regained her seat and propped her elbows again +on the table. It was hard to believe that she had moved from the +spot at all. The fleeting weight of her body on his knees, the +hug round his neck, the whisper in his ear, the kiss on his lips, might +have been the unsubstantial sensations of a dream invading the reality +of waking life; a sort of charming mirage in the barren aridity of his +thoughts. He hesitated to speak till she said, businesslike:</p> +<p>“Well. And what then?”</p> +<p>Heyst gave a start.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes. I didn’t join him. I let him have +his laugh out by himself. He was shaking all over, like a merry +skeleton, under a cotton sheet he was covered with - I believe in order +to conceal the revolver that he had in his right hand. I didn’t +see it, but I have a distinct impression it was there in his fist. +As he had not been looking at me for some time, but staring into a certain +part of the room, I turned my head and saw a hairy, wild sort of creature +which they take about with them, squatting on its heels in the angle +of the walls behind me. He wasn’t there when I came in. +I didn’t like the notion of that watchful monster behind my back. +If I had been less at their mercy, I should certainly have changed my +position. As things are now, to move would have been a mere weakness. +So I remained where I was. The gentleman on the bed said he could +assure me of one thing; and that was that his presence here was no more +morally reprehensible than mine.</p> +<p>“‘We pursue the same ends,’ he said, ‘only +perhaps I pursue them with more openness than you - with more simplicity.’</p> +<p>“That’s what he said,” Heyst went on, after looking +at Lena in a sort of inquiring silence. “I asked him if +he knew beforehand that I was living here; but he only gave me a ghastly +grin. I didn’t press him for an answer, Lena. I thought +I had better not.”</p> +<p>On her smooth forehead a ray of light always seemed to rest. +Her loose hair, parted in the middle, covered the hands sustaining her +head. She seemed spellbound by the interest of the narrative. +Heyst did not pause long. He managed to continue his relation +smoothly enough, beginning afresh with a piece of comment.</p> +<p>“He would have lied impudently - and I detest being told a +lie. It makes me uncomfortable. It’s pretty clear +that I am not fitted for the affairs of the wide world. But I +did not want him to think that I accepted his presence too meekly, so +I said that his comings or goings on the earth were none of my business, +of course, except that I had a natural curiosity to know when he would +find it convenient to resume them.</p> +<p>“He asked me to look at the state he was in. Had I been +all alone here, as they think I am, I should have laughed at him. +But not being alone - I say, Lena, you are sure you haven’t shown +yourself where you could be seen?”</p> +<p>“Certain,” she said promptly.</p> +<p>He looked relieved.</p> +<p>“You understand, Lena, that when I ask you to keep so strictly +out of sight, it is because you are not for them to look at - to talk +about. My poor Lena! I can’t help that feeling. +Do you understand it?”</p> +<p>She moved her head slightly in a manner that was neither affirmative +nor negative.</p> +<p>“People will have to see me some day,” she said.</p> +<p>“I wonder how long it will be possible for you to keep out +of sight?” murmured Heyst thoughtfully. He bent over the +table. “Let me finish telling you. I asked him point +blank what it was he wanted with me; he appeared extremely unwilling +to come to the point. It was not really so pressing as all that, +he said. His secretary, who was in fact his partner, was not present, +having gone down to the wharf to look at their boat. Finally the +fellow proposed that he should put off a certain communication he had +to make till the day after tomorrow. I agreed; but I also told +him that I was not at all anxious to hear it. I had no conception +in what way his affairs could concern me.</p> +<p>“‘Ah, Mr. Heyst,’ he said, ‘you and I have +much more in common than you think.’”</p> +<p>Heyst struck the table with his fist unexpectedly.</p> +<p>“It was a jeer; I am sure it was!”</p> +<p>He seemed ashamed of this outburst and smiled faintly into the motionless +eyes of the girl.</p> +<p>“What could I have done - even if I had had my pockets full +of revolvers?”</p> +<p>She made an appreciative sign.</p> +<p>“Killing’s a sin, sure enough,” she murmured.</p> +<p>“I went away,” Heyst continued. “I left him +there, lying on his side with his eyes shut. When I got back here, +I found you looking ill. What was it, Lena? You did give +me a scare! Then I had the interview with Wang while you rested. +You were sleeping quietly. I sat here to consider all these things +calmly, to try to penetrate their inner meaning and their outward bearing. +It struck me that the two days we have before us have the character +of a sort of truce. The more I thought of it, the more I felt +that this was tacitly understood between Jones and myself. It +was to our advantage, if anything can be of advantage to people caught +so completely unawares as we are. Wang was gone. He, at +any rate, had declared himself, but as I did not know what he might +take it into his head to do, I thought I had better warn these people +that I was no longer responsible for the Chinaman. I did not want +Mr. Wang making some move which would precipitate the action against +us. Do you see my point of view?”</p> +<p>She made a sign that she did. All her soul was wrapped in her +passionate determination, in an exalted belief in herself - in the contemplation +of her amazing opportunity to win the certitude, the eternity, of that +man’s love.</p> +<p>“I never saw two men,” Heyst was saying, “more +affected by a piece of information than Jones and his secretary, who +was back in the bungalow by then. They had not heard me come up. +I told them I was sorry to intrude.</p> +<p>“‘Not at all! Not at all,’ said Jones.</p> +<p>“The secretary backed away into a corner and watched me like +a wary cat. In fact, they both were visibly on their guard.</p> +<p>“‘I am come,’ I told them, ‘to let you know +that my servant has deserted - gone off.’</p> +<p>“At first they looked at each other as if they had not understood +what I was saying; but very soon they seemed quite concerned.</p> +<p>“‘You mean to say your Chink’s cleared out?’ +said Ricardo, coming forward from his corner. ‘Like this +- all at once? What did he do it for?’</p> +<p>“I said that a Chinaman had always a simple and precise reason +for what he did, but that to get such a reason out of him was not so +easy. All he told me, I said, was that he “didn’t +like”.</p> +<p>“They were extremely disturbed at this. Didn’t +like what, they wanted to know.</p> +<p>“‘The looks of you and your party,’ I told Jones.</p> +<p>“‘Nonsense!’ he cried out, and immediately Ricardo, +the short man, struck in.</p> +<p>“‘Told you that? What did he take you for, sir +- an infant? Or do you take us for kids? - meaning no offence. +Come, I bet you will tell us next that you’ve missed something.’”</p> +<p>“‘I didn’t mean to tell you anything of the sort,’ +I said, ‘but as a matter of fact it is so.’</p> +<p>“He slapped his thigh.</p> +<p>“‘Thought so. What do you think of this trick, +governor?’</p> +<p>“Jones made some sort of sign to him, and then that extraordinary +cat-faced associate proposed that he and their servant should come out +and help me catch or kill the Chink.</p> +<p>“My object, I said, was not to get assistance. I did +not intend to chase the Chinaman. I had come only to warn them +that he was armed, and that he really objected to their presence on +the island. I wanted them to understand that I was not responsible +for anything that might happen.</p> +<p>“‘Do you mean to tell us,’ asked Ricardo, ‘that +there is a crazy Chink with a six-shooter broke loose on this island, +and that you don’t care?’</p> +<p>“Strangely enough they did not seem to believe my story. +They were exchanging significant looks all the time. Ricardo stole +up close to his principal; they had a confabulation together, and then +something happened which I did not expect. It’s rather awkward, +too.</p> +<p>“Since I would not have their assistance to get hold of the +Chink and recover my property, the least they could do was to send me +their servant. It was Jones who said that, and Ricardo backed +up the idea.</p> +<p>“‘Yes, yes - let our Pedro cook for all hands in your +compound! He isn’t so bad as he looks. That’s +what we will do!’</p> +<p>“He bustled out of the room to the veranda, and let out an +ear-splitting whistle for their Pedro. Having heard the brute’s +answering howl, Ricardo ran back into the room.</p> +<p>“‘Yes, Mr. Heyst. This will do capitally, Mr. Heyst. +You just direct him to do whatever you are accustomed to have done for +you in the way of attendance. See?’</p> +<p>“Lena, I confess to you that I was taken completely by surprise. +I had not expected anything of the sort. I don’t know what +I expected. I am so anxious about you that I can’t keep +away from these infernal scoundrels. And only two months ago I +would not have cared. I would have defied their scoundrelism as +much as I have scorned all the other intrusions of life. But now +I have you! You stole into my life, and - ”</p> +<p>Heyst drew a deep breath. The girl gave him a quick, wide-eyed +glance.</p> +<p>“Ah! That’s what you are thinking of - that you +have me!”</p> +<p>It was impossible to read the thoughts veiled by her steady grey +eyes, to penetrate the meaning of her silences, her words, and even +her embraces. He used to come out of her very arms with the feeling +of a baffled man.</p> +<p>“If I haven’t you, if you are not here, then where are +you?” cried Heyst. “You understand me very well.”</p> +<p>She shook her head a little. Her red lips, at which he looked +now, her lips as fascinating as the voice that came out of them, uttered +the words:</p> +<p>“I hear what you say; but what does it mean?”</p> +<p>“It means that I could lie and perhaps cringe for your sake.”</p> +<p>“No! No! Don’t you ever do that,” she +said in haste, while her eyes glistened suddenly. “You would +hate me for it afterwards!”</p> +<p>“Hate you?” repeated Heyst, who had recalled his polite +manner. “No! You needn’t consider the extremity +of the improbable - as yet. But I will confess to you that I - +how shall I call it? - that I dissembled. First I dissembled my +dismay at the unforeseen result of my idiotic diplomacy. Do you +understand, my dear girl?”</p> +<p>It was evident that she did not understand the word. Heyst +produced his playful smile, which contrasted oddly with the worried +character of his whole expression. His temples seemed to have +sunk in, his face looked a little leaner.</p> +<p>“A diplomatic statement, Lena, is a statement of which everything +is true, but the sentiment which seems to prompt it. I have never +been diplomatic in my relation with mankind - not from regard for its +feelings, but from a certain regard for my own. Diplomacy doesn’t +go well with consistent contempt. I cared little for life and +still less for death.”</p> +<p>“Don’t talk like that!”</p> +<p>“I dissembled my extreme longing to take these wandering scoundrels +by their throats,” he went on. “I have only two hands +- I wish I had a hundred to defend you - and there were three throats. +By that time their Pedro was in the room too. Had he seen me engaged +with their two throats, he would have been at mine like a fierce dog, +or any other savage and faithful brute. I had no difficulty in +dissembling my longing for the vulgar, stupid, and hopeless argument +of fight. I remarked that I really did not want a servant. +I couldn’t think of depriving them of their man’s services; +but they would not hear me. They had made up their minds.</p> +<p>“‘We shall send him over at once,’ Ricardo said, +‘to start cooking dinner for everybody. I hope you won’t +mind me coming to eat it with you in your bungalow; and we will send +the governor’s dinner over to him here.’</p> +<p>“I could do nothing but hold my tongue or bring on a quarrel +- some manifestation of their dark purpose, which we have no means to +resist. Of course, you may remain invisible this evening; but +with that atrocious-brute prowling all the time at the back of the house, +how long can your presence be concealed from these men?”</p> +<p>Heyst’s distress could be felt in his silence. The girl’s +head, sustained by her hands buried in the thick masses of her hair, +had a perfect immobility.</p> +<p>“You are certain you have not been seen so far?” he asked +suddenly.</p> +<p>The motionless head spoke.</p> +<p>“How can I be certain? You told me you wanted me to keep +out of the way. I kept out of the way. I didn’t ask +your reason. I thought you didn’t want people to know that +you had a girl like me about you.”</p> +<p>“What? Ashamed?” cried Heyst.</p> +<p>“It isn’t what’s right, perhaps - I mean for you +- is it?”</p> +<p>Heyst lifted his hands, reproachfully courteous.</p> +<p>“I look upon it as so very much right that I couldn’t +bear the idea of any other than sympathetic, respectful eyes resting +on you. I disliked and mistrusted these fellows from the first. +Didn’t you understand?”</p> +<p>“Yes; I did keep out of sight,” she said.</p> +<p>A silence fell. At last Heyst stirred slightly.</p> +<p>“All this is of very little importance now,” he said +with a sigh. “This is a question of something infinitely +worse than mere looks and thoughts, however base and contemptible. +As I have told you, I met Ricardo’s suggestions by silence. +As I was turning away he said:</p> +<p>“‘If you happen to have the key of that store-room of +yours on you, Mr. Heyst, you may just as well let me have it; I will +give it to our Pedro.’</p> +<p>“I had it on me, and I tendered it to him without speaking. +The hairy creature was at the door by then, and caught the key, which +Ricardo threw to him, better than any trained ape could have done. +I came away. All the time I had been thinking anxiously of you, +whom I had left asleep, alone here, and apparently ill.”</p> +<p>Heyst interrupted himself, with a listening turn of his head. +He had heard the faint sound of sticks being snapped in the compound. +He rose and crossed the room to look out of the back door.</p> +<p>“And here the creature is,” he said, returning to the +table. “Here he is, already attending to the fire. +Oh, my dear Lena!”</p> +<p>She had followed him with her eyes. She watched him go out +on the front veranda cautiously. He lowered stealthily a couple +of screens that hung between the column, and remained outside very still, +as if interested by something on the open ground. Meantime she +had risen in her turn, to take a peep into the compound. Heyst, +glancing over his shoulder, saw her returning to her seat. He +beckoned to her, and she continued to move, crossing the shady room, +pure and bright in her white dress, her hair loose, with something of +a sleep-walker in her unhurried motion, in her extended hand, in the +sightless effect of her grey eyes luminous in the half-light. +He had never seen such an expression in her face before. It had +dreaminess in it, intense attention, and something like sternness. +Arrested in the doorway by Heyst’s extended arm, she seemed to +wake up, flushed faintly - and this flush, passing off, carried away +with it the strange transfiguring mood. With a courageous gesture +she pushed back the heavy masses of her hair. The light clung +to her forehead. Her delicate nostrils quivered. Heyst seized +her arm and whispered excitedly:</p> +<p>“Slip out here, quickly! The screens will conceal you. +Only you must mind the stair-space. They are actually out - I +mean the other two. You had better see them before you - ”</p> +<p>She made a barely perceptible movement of recoil, checked at once, +and stood still. Heyst released her arm.</p> +<p>“Yes, perhaps I had better,” she said with unnatural +deliberation, and stepped out on the veranda to stand close by his side.</p> +<p>Together, one on each side of the screen, they peeped between the +edge of the canvas and the veranda-post entwined with creepers. +A great heat ascended from the sun-smitten ground, in an ever-rising +wave, as if from some secret store of earth’s fiery heart; for +the sky was growing cooler already, and the sun had declined sufficiently +for the shadows of Mr. Jones and his henchman to be projected towards +the bungalow side by side - one infinitely slender, the other short +and broad.</p> +<p>The two visitors stood still and gazed. To keep up the fiction +of his invalidism, Mr. Jones, the gentleman, leaned on the arm of Ricardo, +the secretary, the top of whose hat just came up to his governor’s +shoulder.</p> +<p>“Do you see them?” Heyst whispered into the girl’s +ear. “Here they are, the envoys of the outer world. +Here they are before you - evil intelligence, instinctive savagery, +arm in arm. The brute force is at the back. A trio of fitting +envoys perhaps - but what about the welcome? Suppose I were armed, +could I shoot these two down where they stand? Could I?”</p> +<p>Without moving her head, the girl felt for Heyst’s hand, pressed +it and thereafter did not let it go. He continued, bitterly playful:</p> +<p>“I don’t know. I don’t think so. There +is a strain in me which lays me under an insensate obligation to avoid +even the appearance of murder. I have never pulled a trigger or +lifted my hand on a man, even in self-defence.”</p> +<p>The suddenly tightened grip of her hand checked him.</p> +<p>“They are making a move,” she murmured.</p> +<p>“Can they be thinking of coming here?” Heyst wondered +anxiously.</p> +<p>“No, they aren’t coming this way,” she said; and +there was another pause. “They are going back to their house,” +she reported finally.</p> +<p>After watching them a little longer, she let go Heyst’s hand +and moved away from the screen. He followed her into the room.</p> +<p>“You have seen them now,” he began. “Think +what it was to me to see them land in the dusk, fantasms from the sea +- apparitions, chimeras! And they persist. That’s +the worst of it - they persist. They have no right to be - but +they are. They ought to have aroused my fury. But I have +refined everything away by this time - anger, indignation, scorn itself. +Nothing’s left but disgust. Since you have told me of that +abominable calumny, it has become immense - it extends even to myself.” +He looked up at her.</p> +<p>“But luckily I have you. And if only Wang had, not carried +off that miserable revolver - yes, Lena, here we are, we two!”</p> +<p>She put both her hands on his shoulders and looked straight into +his eyes. He returned her penetrating gaze. It baffled him. +He could not pierce the grey veil of her eyes; but the sadness of her +voice thrilled him profoundly.</p> +<p>“You are not reproaching me?” she asked slowly.</p> +<p>“Reproach? What a word between us! It could only +be myself - but the mention of Wang has given me an idea. I have +been, not exactly cringing, not exactly lying, but still dissembling. +You have been hiding yourself, to please me, but still you have been +hiding. All this is very dignified. Why shouldn’t +we try begging now? A noble art? Yes. Lena, we must +go out together. I couldn’t think of leaving you alone, +and I must - yes, I must speak to Wang. We shall go and seek that +man, who knows what he wants and how to secure what he wants. +We will go at once!”</p> +<p>“Wait till I put my hair up,” she agreed instantly, and +vanished behind the curtain.</p> +<p>When the curtain had fallen behind her, she turned her head back +with an expression of infinite and tender concern for him - for him +whom she could never hope to understand, and whom she was afraid she +could never satisfy, as if her passion were of a hopelessly lower quality, +unable to appease some exalted and delicate desire of his superior soul. +In a couple of minutes she reappeared. They left the house by +the door of the compound, and passed within three feet of the thunderstruck +Pedro, without even looking in his direction. He rose from stooping +over a fire of sticks, and, balancing himself clumsily, uncovered his +enormous fangs in gaping astonishment. Then suddenly he set off +rolling on his bandy legs to impart to his masters the astonishing discovery +of a woman.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER SIX</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>As luck would have it, Ricardo was lounging alone on the veranda +of the former counting-house. He scented some new development +at once, and ran down to meet the trotting, bear-like figure. +The deep, growling noises it made, though they had only a very remote +resemblance to the Spanish language, or indeed to any sort of human +speech, were from long practice quite intelligible to Mr. Jones’s +secretary. Ricardo was rather surprised. He had imagined +that the girl would continue to keep out of sight. That line apparently +was given up. He did not mistrust her. How could he? +Indeed, he could not think of her existence calmly.</p> +<p>He tried to keep her image out of his mind so that he should be able +to use its powers with some approach to that coolness which the complex +nature of the situation demanded from him, both for his own sake and +as the faithful follower of plain Mr. Jones, gentleman.</p> +<p>He collected his wits and thought. This was a change of policy, +probably on the part of Heyst. If so, what could it mean? +A deep fellow! Unless it was her doing; in which case - h’m +- all right. Must be. She would know what she was doing. +Before him Pedro, lifting his feet alternately, swayed to and fro sideways +- his usual attitude of expectation. His little red eyes, lost +in the mass of hair, were motionless. Ricardo stared into them +with calculated contempt and said in a rough, angry voice:</p> +<p>“Woman! Of course there is. We know that without +you!” He gave the tame monster a push. “Git! +<i>Vamos</i>! Waddle! Get back and cook the dinner. +Which way did they go, then?”</p> +<p>Pedro extended a huge, hairy forearm to show the direction, and went +off on his bandy legs. Advancing a few steps, Ricardo was just +in time to see, above some bushes, two white helmets moving side by +side in the clearing. They disappeared. Now that he had +managed to keep Pedro from informing the governor that there was a woman +on the island, he could indulge in speculation as to the movements of +these people. His attitude towards Mr. Jones had undergone a spiritual +change, of which he himself was not yet fully aware.</p> +<p>That morning, before tiffin, after his escape from the Heyst bungalow, +completed in such an inspiring way by the recovery of the slipper, Ricardo +had made his way to their allotted house, reeling as he ran, his head +in a whirl. He was wildly excited by visions of inconceivable +promise. He waited to compose himself before he dared to meet +the governor. On entering the room, he found Mr. Jones sitting +on the camp bedstead like a tailor on his board, cross-legged, his long +back against the wall.</p> +<p>“I say, sir. You aren’t going to tell me you are +bored?”</p> +<p>“Bored! No! Where the devil have you been all this +time?”</p> +<p>“Observing - watching - nosing around. What else? +I knew you had company. Have you talked freely, sir?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I have,” muttered Mr. Jones.</p> +<p>“Not downright plain, sir?”</p> +<p>“No. I wished you had been here. You loaf all the +morning, and now you come in out of breath. What’s the matter?”</p> +<p>“I haven’t been wasting my time out there,” said +Ricardo. “Nothing’s the matter. I - I - might +have hurried a bit.” He was in truth still panting; only +it was not with running, but with the tumult of thoughts and sensations +long repressed, which had been set free by the adventure of the morning. +He was almost distracted by them now. He forgot himself in the +maze of possibilities threatening and inspiring. “And so +you had a long talk?” he said, to gain time.</p> +<p>“Confound you! The sun hasn’t affected your head, +has it? Why are you staring at me like a basilisk?”</p> +<p>“Beg pardon, sir. Wasn’t aware I stared,” +Ricardo apologized good-humouredly. “The sun might well +affect a thicker skull than mine. It blazes. Phew! +What do you think a fellow is, sir - a salamander?”</p> +<p>“You ought to have been here,” observed Mr. Jones.</p> +<p>“Did the beast give any signs of wanting to prance?” +asked Ricardo quickly, with absolutely genuine anxiety. “It +wouldn’t do, sir. You must play him easy for at least a +couple of days, sir. I have a plan. I have a notion that +I can find out a lot in a couple of days.”</p> +<p>“You have? In what way?”</p> +<p>“Why, by watching,” Ricardo answered slowly.</p> +<p>Mr Jones grunted.</p> +<p>“Nothing new, that. Watch, eh? Why not pray a little, +too?”</p> +<p>“Ha, ha, ha! That’s a good one,” burst out +the secretary, fixing Mr. Jones with mirthless eyes.</p> +<p>The latter dropped the subject indolently.</p> +<p>“Oh, you may be certain of at least two days,” he said.</p> +<p>Ricardo recovered himself. His eyes gleamed voluptuously.</p> +<p>“We’ll pull this off yet - clean - whole - right through, +if you will only trust me, sir.”</p> +<p>“I am trusting you right enough,” said Mr. Jones. +“It’s your interest, too.”</p> +<p>And, indeed, Ricardo was truthful enough in his statement. +He did absolutely believe in success now. But he couldn’t +tell his governor that he had intelligences in the enemy’s camp. +It wouldn’t do to tell him of the girl. Devil only knew +what he would do if he learned there was a woman about. And how +could he begin to tell of it? He couldn’t confess his sudden +escapade.</p> +<p>“We’ll pull it off, sir,” he said, with perfectly +acted cheerfulness. He experienced gusts of awful joy expanding +in his heart and hot like a fanned flame.</p> +<p>“We must,” pronounced Mr. Jones. “This thing, +Martin, is not like our other tries. I have a peculiar feeling +about this. It’s a different thing. It’s a sort +of test.”</p> +<p>Ricardo was impressed by the governor’s manner; for the first +time a hint of passion could be detected in him. But also a word +he used, the word “test,” had struck him as particularly +significant somehow. It was the last word uttered during that +morning’s conversation. Immediately afterwards Ricardo went +out of the room. It was impossible for him to keep still. +An elation in which an extraordinary softness mingled with savage triumph +would not allow it. It prevented his thinking, also. He +walked up and down the veranda far into the afternoon, eyeing the bungalow +at every turn. It gave no sign of being inhabited. Once +or twice he stopped dead short and looked down at his left slipper. +Each time he chuckled audibly. His restlessness kept on increasing +till at last it frightened him. He caught hold of the balustrade +of the veranda and stood still, smiling not at his thought but at the +strong sense of life within him. He abandoned himself to it carelessly, +even recklessly. He cared for no one, friend or enemy. At +that moment Mr. Jones called him by name from within. A shadow +fell on the secretary’s face.</p> +<p>“Here, sir,” he answered; but it was a moment before +he could make up his mind to go in.</p> +<p>He found the governor on his feet. Mr. Jones was tired of lying +down when there was no necessity for it. His slender form, gliding +about the room, came to a standstill.</p> +<p>“I’ve been thinking, Martin, of something you suggested. +At the time it did not strike me as practical; but on reflection it +seems to me that to propose a game is as good a way as any to let him +understand that the time has come to disgorge. It’s less +- how should I say? - vulgar. He will know what it means. +It’s not a bad form to give to the business - which in itself +is crude, Martin, crude.”</p> +<p>“Want to spare his feelings?” jeered the secretary in +such a bitter tone that Mr. Jones was really surprised.</p> +<p>“Why, it was your own notion, confound you!”</p> +<p>“Who says it wasn’t?” retorted Ricardo sulkily. +“But I am fairly sick of this crawling. No! No! +Get the exact bearings of his swag and then a rip up. That’s +plenty good enough for him.”</p> +<p>His passions being thoroughly aroused, a thirst for blood was allied +in him with a thirst for tenderness - yes, tenderness. A sort +of anxious, melting sensation pervaded and softened his heart when he +thought of that girl - one of his own sort. And at the same time +jealousy started gnawing at his breast as the image of Heyst intruded +itself on his fierce anticipation of bliss.</p> +<p>“The crudeness of your ferocity is positively gross, Martin,” +Mr. Jones said disdainfully. “You don’t even understand +my purpose. I mean to have some sport out of him. Just try +to imagine the atmosphere of the game - the fellow handling the cards +- the agonizing mockery of it! Oh, I shall appreciate this greatly. +Yes, let him lose his money instead of being forced to hand it over. +You, of course, would shoot him at once, but I shall enjoy the refinement +and the jest of it. He’s a man of the best society. +I’ve been hounded out of my sphere by people very much like that +fellow. How enraged and humiliated he will be! I promise +myself some exquisite moments while watching his play.”</p> +<p>“Ay, and suppose he suddenly starts prancing. He may +not appreciate the fun.”</p> +<p>“I mean you to be present,” Mr. Jones remarked calmly.</p> +<p>“Well, as long as I am free to plug him or rip him up whenever +I think the time has come, you are welcome to your bit of sport, sir. +I shan’t spoil it.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER SEVEN</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>It was at this precise moment of their conversation that Heyst had +intruded on Mr. Jones and his secretary with his warning about Wang, +as he had related to Lena. When he left them, the two looked at +each other in wondering silence. My Jones was the first to break +it.</p> +<p>“I say, Martin!”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“What does this mean?”</p> +<p>“It’s some move. Blame me if I can understand.”</p> +<p>“Too deep for you?” Mr. Jones inquired dryly.</p> +<p>“It’s nothing but some of his infernal impudence,” +growled the secretary. “You don’t believe all that +about the Chink, do you, sir? ’Tain’t true.”</p> +<p>“It isn’t necessary for it to be true to have a meaning +for us. It’s the why of his coming to tell us this tale +that’s important.”</p> +<p>“Do you think he made it up to frighten us?” asked Ricardo.</p> +<p>Mr Jones scowled at him thoughtfully.</p> +<p>“The man looked worried,” he muttered, as if to himself. +“Suppose that Chinaman has really stolen his money! The +man looked very worried.”</p> +<p>“Nothing but his artfulness, sir,” protested Ricardo +earnestly, for the idea was too disconcerting to entertain. “Is +it likely that he would have trusted a Chink with enough knowledge to +make it possible?” he argued warmly. “Why, it’s +the very thing that he would keep close about. There’s something +else there. Ay, but what?”</p> +<p>“Ha, ha, ha!” Mr. Jones let out a ghostly, squeaky laugh. +“I’ve never been placed in such a ridiculous position before,” +he went on, with a sepulchral equanimity of tone. “It’s +you, Martin, who dragged me into it. However, it’s my own +fault too. I ought to - but I was really too bored to use my brain, +and yours is not to be trusted. You are a hothead!”</p> +<p>A blasphemous exclamation of grief escaped from Ricardo. Not +to be trusted! Hothead! He was almost tearful.</p> +<p>“Haven’t I heard you, sir, saying more than twenty times +since we got fired out from Manila that we should want a lot of capital +to work the East Coast with? You were always telling me that to +prime properly all them officials and Portuguese scallywags we should +have to lose heavily at first. Weren’t you always worrying +about some means of getting hold of a good lot of cash? It wasn’t +to be got hold of by allowing yourself to become bored in that rotten +Dutch town and playing a two-penny game with confounded beggarly bank +clerks and such like. Well, I’ve brought you here, where +there is cash to be got - and a big lot, to a moral,” he added +through his set teeth.</p> +<p>Silence fell. Each of them was staring into a different corner +of the room. Suddenly, with a slight stamp of his foot, Mr. Jones +made for the door. Ricardo caught him up outside.</p> +<p>“Put an arm through mine, sir,” he begged him gently +but firmly. “No use giving the game away. An invalid +may well come out for a breath of fresh air after the sun’s gone +down a bit. That’s it, sir. But where do you want +to go? Why did you come out, sir?”</p> +<p>Mr Jones stopped short.</p> +<p>“I hardly know myself,” he confessed in a hollow mutter, +staring intently at the Number One bungalow. “It’s +quite irrational,” he declared in a still lower tone.</p> +<p>“Better go in, sir,” suggested Ricardo. “What’s +that? Those screens weren’t down before. He’s +spying from behind them now, I bet - the dodging, artful, plotting beast!”</p> +<p>“Why not go over there and see if we can’t get to the +bottom of this game?” was the unexpected proposal uttered by Mr. +Jones. “He will have to talk to us.”</p> +<p>Ricardo repressed a start of dismay, but for a moment could not speak. +He only pressed the governor’s hand to his side instinctively.</p> +<p>“No, sir. What could you say? Do you expect to +get to the bottom of his lies? How could you make him talk? +It isn’t time yet to come to grips with that gent. You don’t +think I would hang back, do you? His Chink, of course, I’ll +shoot like a dog the moment I catch sight of him; but as to that Mr. +Blasted Heyst, the time isn’t yet. My head’s cooler +just now than yours. Let’s go in again. Why, we are +exposed here. Suppose he took it into his head to let off a gun +on us! He’s an unaccountable, ’yporcritical skunk.”</p> +<p>Allowing himself to be persuaded, Mr. Jones returned to his seclusion. +The secretary, however, remained on the veranda - for the purpose, he +said, of seeing whether that Chink wasn’t sneaking around; in +which case he proposed to take a long shot at the galoot and chance +the consequences. His real reason was that he wanted to be alone, +away from the governor’s deep-sunk eyes. He felt a sentimental +desire to indulge his fancies in solitude. A great change had +come over Mr. Ricardo since that morning. A whole side of him +which from prudence, from necessity, from loyalty, had been kept dormant, +was aroused now, colouring his thoughts and disturbing his mental poise +by the vision of such staggering consequences as, for instance, the +possibility of an active conflict with the governor. The appearance +of the monstrous Pedro with his news drew Ricardo out of a feeling of +dreaminess wrapped up in a sense of impending trouble. A woman? +Yes, there was one; and it made all the difference. After driving +away Pedro, and watching the white helmets of Heyst and Lena vanishing +among the bushes he stood lost in meditation.</p> +<p>“Where could they be off to like this?” he mentally asked +himself.</p> +<p>The answer found by his speculative faculties on their utmost stretch +was - to meet that Chink. For in the desertion of Wang Ricardo +did not believe. It was a lying yarn, the organic part of a dangerous +plot. Heyst had gone to combine some fresh move. But then +Ricardo felt sure that the girl was with him - the girl full of pluck, +full of sense, full of understanding; an ally of his own kind!</p> +<p>He went indoors briskly. Mr. Jones had resumed his cross-legged +pose at the head of the bed, with his back against the wall.</p> +<p>“Anything new?”</p> +<p>“No, sir.”</p> +<p>Ricardo walked about the room as if he had no care in the world. +He hummed snatches of song. Mr. Jones raised his waspish eyebrows, +at the sound. The secretary got down on his knees before an old +leather trunk, and, rummaging in there, brought out a small looking-glass. +He fell to examining his physiognomy in it with silent absorption.</p> +<p>“I think I’ll shave,” he decided, getting up.</p> +<p>He gave a sidelong glance to the governor, and repeated it several +times during the operation, which did not take long, and even afterwards, +when after putting away the implements, he resumed his walking, humming +more snatches of unknown songs. Mr. Jones preserved a complete +immobility, his thin lips compressed, his eyes veiled. His face +was like a carving.</p> +<p>“So you would like to try your hand at cards with that skunk, +sir?” said Ricardo, stopping suddenly and rubbing his hands.</p> +<p>Mr Jones gave no sign of having heard anything.</p> +<p>“Well, why not? Why shouldn’t he have the experience? +You remember in that Mexican town - what’s its name? - the robber +fellow they caught in the mountains and condemned to be shot? +He played cards half the night with the jailer and the sheriff. +Well, this fellow is condemned, too. He must give you your game. +Hang it all, a gentleman ought to have some little relaxation! +And you have been uncommonly patient, sir.”</p> +<p>“You are uncommonly volatile all of a sudden,” Mr. Jones +remarked in a bored voice. “What’s come to you?”</p> +<p>The secretary hummed for a while, and then said:</p> +<p>“I’ll try to get him over here for you tonight, after +dinner. If I ain’t here myself, don’t you worry, sir. +I shall be doing a bit of nosing around - see?”</p> +<p>“I see,” sneered Mr. Jones languidly. “But +what do you expect to see in the dark?”</p> +<p>Ricardo made no answer, and after another turn or two slipped out +of the room. He no longer felt comfortable alone with the governor.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER EIGHT</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Meantime Heyst and Lena, walking rather fast, approached Wang’s +hut. Asking the girl to wait, Heyst ascended the little ladder +of bamboos giving access to the door. It was as he had expected. +The smoky interior was empty, except for a big chest of sandalwood too +heavy for hurried removal. Its lid was thrown up, but whatever +it might have contained was no longer there. All Wang’s +possessions were gone. Without tarrying in the hut, Heyst came +back to the girl, who asked no questions, with her strange air of knowing +or understanding everything.</p> +<p>“Let us push on,” he said.</p> +<p>He went ahead, the rustle of her white skirt following him into the +shades of the forest, along the path of their usual walk. Though +the air lay heavy between straight denuded trunks, the sunlit patches +moved on the ground, and raising her eyes Lena saw far above her head +the flutter of the leaves, the surface shudder on the mighty limbs extended +horizontally in the perfect immobility of patience. Twice Heyst +looked over his shoulder at her. Behind the readiness of her answering +smile there was a fund of devoted, concentrated passion, burning with +the hope of a more perfect satisfaction. They passed the spot +where it was their practice to turn towards the barren summit of the +central hill. Heyst held steadily on his way towards the upper +limit of the forest. The moment they left its shelter, a breeze +enveloped them, and a great cloud, racing over the sun, threw a peculiar +sombre tint over everything. Heyst pointed up a precipitous, rugged +path clinging to the side of the hill. It ended in a barricade +of felled trees, a primitively conceived obstacle which must have cost +much labour to erect at just that spot.</p> +<p>“This,” Heyst, explained in his urbane tone, “is +a barrier against the march of civilization. The poor folk over +there did not like it, as it appeared to them in the shape of my company +- a great step forward, as some people used to call it with mistaken +confidence. The advanced foot has been drawn back, but the barricade +remains.”</p> +<p>They went on climbing slowly. The cloud had driven over, leaving +an added brightness on the face of the world.</p> +<p>“It’s a very ridiculous thing,” Heyst went on; +“but then it is the product of honest fear - fear of the unknown, +of the incomprehensible. It’s pathetic, too, in a way. +And I heartily wish, Lena, that we were on the other side of it.”</p> +<p>“Oh, stop, stop!” she cried, seizing his arm.</p> +<p>The face of the barricade they were approaching had been piled up +with a lot of fresh-cut branches. The leaves were still green. +A gentle breeze, sweeping over the top, stirred them a little; but what +had startled the girl was the discovery of several spear-blades protruding +from the mass of foliage. She had made them out suddenly. +They did not gleam, but she saw them with extreme distinctness, very +still, very vicious to look at.</p> +<p>“You had better let me go forward alone, Lena,” said +Heyst.</p> +<p>She tugged, persistently at his arm, but after a time, during which +he never ceased to look smilingly into her terrified eyes, he ended +by disengaging himself.</p> +<p>“It’s a sign rather than a demonstration,” he argued, +persuasively. “Just wait here a moment. I promise +not to approach near enough to be stabbed.”</p> +<p>As in a nightmare she watched Heyst go up the few yards of the path +as if he never meant to stop; and she heard his voice, like voices heard +in dreams, shouting unknown words in an unearthly tone. Heyst +was only demanding to see Wang. He was not kept waiting very long. +Recovering from the first flurry of her fright, Lena noticed a commotion +in the green top-dressing of the barricade. She exhaled a sigh +of relief when the spear-blades retreated out of sight, sliding inward +- the horrible things! in a spot facing Heyst a pair of yellow hands +parted the leaves, and a face filled the small opening - a face with +very noticeable eyes. It was Wang’s face, of course, with +no suggestion of a body belonging to it, like those cardboard faces +at which she remembered gazing as a child in the window of a certain +dim shop kept by a mysterious little man in Kingsland Road. Only +this face, instead of mere holes, had eyes which blinked. She +could see the beating of the eyelids. The hands on each side of +the face, keeping the boughs apart, also did not look as if they belonged +to any real body. One of them was holding a revolver - a weapon +which she recognized merely by intuition, never having seen such an +object before.</p> +<p>She leaned her shoulders against the rock of the perpendicular hillside +and kept her eyes on Heyst, with comparative composure, since the spears +were not menacing him any longer. Beyond the rigid and motionless +back he presented to her, she saw Wang’s unreal cardboard face +moving its thin lips and grimacing artificially. She was too far +down the path to hear the dialogue, carried on in an ordinary voice. +She waited patiently for its end. Her shoulders felt the warmth +of the rock; now and then a whiff of cooler air seemed to slip down +upon her head from above; the ravine at her feet, choked fun of vegetation, +emitted the faint, drowsy hum of insect life. Everything was very +quiet. She failed to notice the exact moment when Wang’s +head vanished from the foliage, taking the unreal hands away with it. +To her horror, the spear-blades came gliding slowly out. The very +hair on her head stirred; but before she had time to cry out, Heyst, +who seemed rooted to the ground, turned round abruptly and began to +move towards her. His great moustaches did not quite hide an ugly +but irresolute smile; and when he had come down near enough to touch +her, he burst out into a harsh laugh:</p> +<p>“Ha, ha, ha!”</p> +<p>She looked at him, uncomprehending. He cut short his laugh +and said curtly:</p> +<p>“We had better go down as we came.”</p> +<p>She followed him into the forest. The advance of the afternoon +had filled it with gloom. Far away a slant of light between the +trees closed the view. All was dark beyond. Heyst stopped.</p> +<p>“No reason to hurry, Lena,” he said in his ordinary, +serenely polite tones. “We return unsuccessful. I +suppose you know, or at least can guess, what was my object in coming +up there?”</p> +<p>“No, I can’t guess, dear,” she said, and smiled, +noticing with emotion that his breast was heaving as if he had been +out of breath. Nevertheless, he tried to command his speech, pausing +only a little between the words.</p> +<p>“No? I went up to find Wang. I went up” - +he gasped again here, but this was for the last time - “I made +you come with me because I didn’t like to leave you unprotected +in the proximity of those fellows.” Suddenly he snatched +his cork helmet off his head and dashed it on the ground. “No!” +he cried roughly. “All this is too unreal altogether. +It isn’t to be borne! I can’t protect you! I +haven’t the power.”</p> +<p>He glared at her for a moment, then hastened after his hat which +had bounded away to some distance. He came back looking at her +face, which was very white.</p> +<p>“I ought to beg your pardon for these antics,” he said, +adjusting his hat. “A movement of childish petulance! +Indeed, I feel very much like a child in my ignorance, in my powerlessness, +in my want of resource, in everything except in the dreadful consciousness +of some evil hanging over your head - yours!”</p> +<p>“It’s you they are after,” she murmured.</p> +<p>“No doubt, but unfortunately - ”</p> +<p>“Unfortunately - what?”</p> +<p>“Unfortunately, I have not succeeded with Wang,” he said. +“I failed to move his Celestial, heart - that is, if there is +such a thing. He told me with horrible Chinese reasonableness +that he could not let us pass the barrier, because we should be pursued. +He doesn’t like fights. He gave me to understand that he +would shoot me with my own revolver without any sort of compunction, +rather than risk a rude and distasteful contest with the strange barbarians +for my sake. He has preached to the villagers. They respect +him. He is the most remarkable man they have ever seen, and their +kinsman by marriage. They understand his policy. And anyway +only women and children and a few old fellows are left in the village. +This is the season when the men are away in trading vessels. But +it would have been all the same. None of them have a taste for +fighting - and with white men too! They are peaceable, kindly +folk and would have seen me shot with extreme satisfaction. Wang +seemed to think my insistence - for I insisted, you know - very stupid +and tactless. But a drowning man clutches at straws. We +were talking in such Malay as we are both equal to.</p> +<p>“‘Your fears are foolish,’ I said to him.</p> +<p>“‘Foolish? of course I am foolish,’ he replied. +‘If I were a wise man, I would be a merchant with a big hong in +Singapore, instead of being a mine coolie turned houseboy. But +if you don’t go away in time, I will shoot you before it grows +too dark to take aim. Not till then, Number One, but I will do +it then. Now - finish!’</p> +<p>“‘All right,’ I said. ‘Finish as far +as I am concerned; but you can have no objections to the <i>mem putih</i> +coming over to stay with the Orang Kaya’s women for a few days. +I will make a present in silver for it.’ Orang Kaya, is +the head man of the village, Lena,” added Heyst.</p> +<p>She looked at him in astonishment.</p> +<p>“You wanted me to go to that village of savages?” she +gasped. “You wanted me to leave you?”</p> +<p>“It would have given me a freer hand.”</p> +<p>Heyst stretched out his hands and looked at them for a moment, then +let them fall by his side. Indignation was expressed more in the +curve of her lips than in her clear eyes, which never wavered.</p> +<p>“I believe Wang laughed,” he went on. “He +made a noise like a turkey-cock.”</p> +<p>“‘That would be worse than anything,’ he told me.</p> +<p>“I was taken aback. I pointed out to him that he was +talking nonsense. It could not make any difference to his security +where you were, because the evil men, as he calls them, did not know +of your existence. I did not lie exactly, Lena, though I did stretch +the truth till it cracked; but the fellow seems to have an uncanny insight. +He shook his head. He assured me they knew all about you. +He made a horrible grimace at me.”</p> +<p>“It doesn’t matter,” said the girl. “I +didn’t want - I would not have gone.”</p> +<p>Heyst raised his eyes.</p> +<p>“Wonderful intuition! As I continued to press him, Wang +made that very remark about you. When he smiles, his face looks +like a conceited death’s head. It was his very last remark +that you wouldn’t want to. I went away then.”</p> +<p>She leaned back against a tree. Heyst faced her in the same +attitude of leisure, as if they had done with time and all the other +concerns of the earth. Suddenly, high above their heads the roof +of leaves whispered at them tumultuously and then ceased.</p> +<p>“That was a strange notion of yours, to send me away,” +she said. “Send me away? What for? Yes, what +for?”</p> +<p>“You seem indignant,” he remarked listlessly.</p> +<p>“To these savages, too!” she pursued. “And +you think I would have gone? You can do what you like with me +- but not that, not that!”</p> +<p>Heyst looked into the dim aisles of the forest. Everything +was so still now that the very ground on which they stood seemed to +exhale silence into the shade.</p> +<p>“Why be indignant?” he remonstrated. “It +has not happened. I gave up pleading with Wang. Here we +are, repulsed! Not only without power to resist the evil, but +unable to make terms for ourselves with the worthy envoys, the envoys +extraordinary of the world we thought we had done with for years and +years. And that’s bad, Lena, very bad.”</p> +<p>“It’s funny,” she said thoughtfully. “Bad? +I suppose it is. I don’t know that it is. But do you? +Do you? You talk as if you didn’t believe in it.”</p> +<p>She gazed at him earnestly.</p> +<p>“Do I? Ah! That’s it. I don’t +know how to talk. I have managed to refine everything away. +I’ve said to the Earth that bore me: ‘I am I and you are +a shadow.’ And, by Jove, it is so! But it appears +that such words cannot be uttered with impunity. Here I am on +a Shadow inhabited by Shades. How helpless a man is against the +Shades! How is one to intimidate, persuade, resist, assert oneself +against them? I have lost all belief in realities . . . Lena, +give me your hand.”</p> +<p>She looked at him surprised, uncomprehending.</p> +<p>“Your hand,” he cried.</p> +<p>She obeyed; he seized it with avidity as if eager to raise it to +his lips, but halfway up released his grasp. They looked at each +other for a time.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter, dear?” she whispered timidly.</p> +<p>“Neither force nor conviction,” Heyst muttered wearily +to himself. “How am I to meet this charmingly simple problem?”</p> +<p>“I am sorry,” she murmured.</p> +<p>“And so am I,” he confessed quickly. “And +the bitterest of this humiliation is its complete uselessness - which +I feel, I feel!”</p> +<p>She had never before seen him give such signs of feeling. Across +his ghastly face the long moustaches flamed in the shade. He spoke +suddenly:</p> +<p>“I wonder if I could find enough courage to creep among them +in the night, with a knife, and cut their throats one after another, +as they slept! I wonder - ”</p> +<p>She was frightened by his unwonted appearance more than by the words +in his mouth, and said earnestly:</p> +<p>“Don’t you try to do such a thing! Don’t +you think of it!”</p> +<p>“I don’t possess anything bigger than a penknife. +As to thinking of it, Lena, there’s no saying what one may think +of. I don’t think. Something in me thinks - something +foreign to my nature. What is the matter?”</p> +<p>He noticed her parted lips, and the peculiar stare in her eyes, which +had wandered from his face.</p> +<p>“There’s somebody after us. I saw something white +moving,” she cried.</p> +<p>Heyst did not turn his head; he only glanced at her out-stretched +arm.</p> +<p>“No doubt we are followed; we are watched.”</p> +<p>“I don’t see anything now,” she said.</p> +<p>“And it does not matter,” Heyst went on in his ordinary +voice. “Here we are in the forest. I have neither +strength nor persuasion. Indeed, it’s extremely difficult +to be eloquent before a Chinaman’s head stuck at one out of a +lot of brushwood. But can we wander among these big trees indefinitely? +Is this a refuge? No! What else is left to us? I did +think for a moment of the mine; but even there we could not remain very +long. And then that gallery is not safe. The props were +too weak to begin with. Ants have been at work there - ants after +the men. A death-trap, at best. One can die but once, but +there are many manners of death.”</p> +<p>The girl glanced about fearfully, in search of the watcher or follower +whom she had glimpsed once among the trees; but if he existed, he had +concealed himself. Nothing met her eyes but the deepening shadows +of the short vistas between the living columns of the still roof of +leaves. She looked at the man beside her expectantly, tenderly, +with suppressed affright and a sort of awed wonder.</p> +<p>“I have also thought of these people’s boat,” Heyst +went on. “We could get into that, and - only they have taken +everything out of her. I have seen her oars and mast in a corner +of their room. To shove off in an empty boat would be nothing +but a desperate expedition, supposing even that she would drift out +a good distance between the islands before the morning. It would +only be a complicated manner of committing suicide - to be found dead +in a boat, dead from sun and thirst. A sea mystery. I wonder +who would find us! Davidson, perhaps; but Davidson passed westward +ten days ago. I watched him steaming past one early morning, from +the jetty.”</p> +<p>“You never told me,” she said.</p> +<p>“He must have been looking at me through his big binoculars. +Perhaps, if I had raised my arm - but what did we want with Davidson +then, you and I? He won’t be back this way for three weeks +or more, Lena. I wish I had raised my arm that morning.”</p> +<p>“What would have been the good of it?” she sighed out.</p> +<p>“What good? No good, of course. We had no forebodings. +This seemed to be an inexpugnable refuge, where we could live untroubled +and learn to know each other.”</p> +<p>“It’s perhaps in trouble that people get to know each +other,” she suggested.</p> +<p>“Perhaps,” he said indifferently. “At any +rate, we would not have gone away from here with him; though I believe +he would have come in eagerly enough, and ready for any service he could +render. It’s that fat man’s nature - a delightful +fellow. You would not come on the wharf that time I sent the shawl +back to Mrs. Schomberg through him. He has never seen you.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t know that you wanted anybody ever to see me,” +she said.</p> +<p>He had folded his arms on his breast and hung his head.</p> +<p>“And I did not know that you cared to be seen as yet. +A misunderstanding evidently. An honourable misunderstanding. +But it does not matter now.”</p> +<p>He raised his head after a silence.</p> +<p>“How gloomy this forest has grown! Yet surely the sun +cannot have set already.”</p> +<p>She looked round; and as if her eyes had just been opened, she perceived +the shades of the forest surrounding her, not so much with gloom, but +with a sullen, dumb, menacing hostility. Her heart sank in the +engulfing stillness, at that moment she felt the nearness of death, +breathing on her and on the man with her. If there had been a +sudden stir of leaves, the crack of a dry branch, the faintest rustle, +she would have screamed aloud. But she shook off the unworthy +weakness. Such as she was, a fiddle-scraping girl picked up on +the very threshold of infamy, she would try to rise above herself, triumphant +and humble; and then happiness would burst on her like a torrent, flinging +at her feet the man whom she loved.</p> +<p>Heyst stirred slightly.</p> +<p>“We had better be getting back, Lena, since we can’t +stay all night in the woods - or anywhere else, for that matter. +We are the slaves of this infernal surprise which has been sprung on +us by - shall I say fate? - your fate, or mine.”</p> +<p>It was the man who had broken the silence, but it was the woman who +led the way. At the very edge of the forest she stopped, concealed +by a tree. He joined her cautiously.</p> +<p>“What is it? What do you see, Lena?” he whispered.</p> +<p>She said that it was only a thought that had come into her head. +She hesitated for a moment giving him over her shoulder a shining gleam +in her grey eyes. She wanted to know whether this trouble, this +danger, this evil, whatever it was, finding them out in their retreat, +was not a sort of punishment.</p> +<p>“Punishment?” repeated Heyst. He could not understand +what she meant. When she explained, he was still more surprised. +“A sort of retribution, from an angry Heaven?” he said in +wonder. “On us? What on earth for?”</p> +<p>He saw her pale face darken in the dusk. She had blushed. +Her whispering flowed very fast. It was the way they lived together +- that wasn’t right, was it? It was a guilty life. +For she had not been forced into it, driven, scared into it. No, +no - she had come to him of her own free will, with her whole soul yearning +unlawfully.</p> +<p>He was so profoundly touched that he could not speak for a moment. +To conceal his trouble, he assumed his best Heystian manner.</p> +<p>“What? Are our visitors then messengers of morality, +avengers of righteousness, agents of Providence? That’s +certainly an original view. How flattered they would be if they +could hear you!”</p> +<p>“Now you are making fun of me,” she said in a subdued +voice which broke suddenly.</p> +<p>“Are you conscious of sin?” Heyst asked gravely. +She made no answer. “For I am not,” he added; “before +Heaven, I am not!”</p> +<p>“You! You are different. Woman is the tempter. +You took me up from pity. I threw myself at you.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you exaggerate, you exaggerate. It was not so bad +as that,” he said playfully, keeping his voice steady with an +effort.</p> +<p>He considered himself a dead man already, yet forced to pretend that +he was alive for her sake, for her defence. He regretted that +he had no Heaven to which he could recommend this fair, palpitating +handful of ashes and dust - warm, living sentient his own - and exposed +helplessly to insult, outrage, degradation, and infinite misery of the +body.</p> +<p>She had averted her face from him and was still. He suddenly +seized her passive hand.</p> +<p>“You will have it so?” he said. “Yes? +Well, let us then hope for mercy together.”</p> +<p>She shook her head without looking at him, like an abashed child.</p> +<p>“Remember,” he went on incorrigible with his delicate +raillery, “that hope is a Christian virtue, and surely you can’t +want all the mercy for yourself.”</p> +<p>Before their eyes the bungalow across the cleared ground stood bathed +in a sinister light. An unexpected chill gust of wind made a noise +in the tree-tops. She snatched her hand away and stepped out into +the open; but before she had advanced more than three yards, she stood +still and pointed to the west.</p> +<p>“Oh look there!” she exclaimed.</p> +<p>Beyond the headland of Diamond Bay, lying black on a purple sea, +great masses of cloud stood piled up and bathed in a mist of blood. +A crimson crack like an open wound zigzagged between them, with a piece +of dark red sun showing at the bottom. Heyst cast an indifferent +glance at the ill-omened chaos of the sky.</p> +<p>“Thunderstorm making up. We shall hear it all night, +but it won’t visit us, probably. The clouds generally gather +round the volcano.”</p> +<p>She was not listening to him. Her eyes reflected the sombre +and violent hues of the sunset.</p> +<p>“That does not look much like a sign of mercy,” she said +slowly, as if to herself, and hurried on, followed by Heyst. Suddenly +she stopped. “I don’t care. I would do more +yet! And some day you’ll forgive me. You’ll +have to forgive me!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER NINE</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Stumbling up the steps, as if suddenly exhausted, Lena entered the +room and let herself fall on the nearest chair. Before following +her, Heyst took a survey of the surroundings from the veranda. +It was a complete solitude. There was nothing in the aspect of +this familiar scene to tell him that he and the girl were not completely +alone as they had been in the early days of their common life on this +abandoned spot, with only Wang discreetly materializing from time to +time and the uncomplaining memory of Morrison to keep them company.</p> +<p>After the cold gust of wind there was an absolute stillness of the +air. The thunder-charged mass hung unbroken beyond the low, ink-black +headland, darkening the twilight. By contrast, the sky at the +zenith displayed pellucid clearness, the sheen of a delicate glass bubble +which the merest movement of air might shatter. A little to the +left, between the black masses of the headland and of the forest, the +volcano, a feather of smoke by day and a cigar-glow at night, took its +first fiery expanding breath of the evening. Above it a reddish +star came out like an expelled spark from the fiery bosom of the earth, +enchanted into permanency by the mysterious spell of frozen spaces.</p> +<p>In front of Heyst the forest, already full of the deepest shades, +stood like a wall. But he lingered, watching its edge, especially +where it ended at the line of bushes, masking the land end of the jetty. +Since the girl had spoken of catching a glimpse of something white among +the trees, he believed pretty firmly that they had been followed in +their excursion up the mountain by Mr. Jones’s secretary. +No doubt the fellow had watched them out of the forest, and now, unless +he took the trouble to go back some distance and fetch a considerable +circuit inland over the clearing, he was bound to walk out into the +open space before the bungalows. Heyst did, indeed, imagine at +one time some movement between the trees, lost as soon as perceived. +He stated patiently, but nothing more happened. After all, why +should he trouble about these people’s actions? Why this +stupid concern for the preliminaries, since, when the issue was joined, +it would find him disarmed and shrinking from the ugliness and degradation +of it?</p> +<p>He turned and entered the room. Deep dusk reigned in there +already. Lena, near the door, did not move or speak. The +sheen of the white tablecloth was very obtrusive. The brute these +two vagabonds had tamed had entered on its service while Heyst and Lena +were away. The table was laid. Heyst walked up and down +the room several times. The girl remained without sound or movement +on the chair. But when Heyst, placing the two silver candelabra +on the table, struck a match to light the candles, she got up suddenly +and went into the bedroom. She came out again almost immediately, +having taken off her hat. Heyst looked at her over his shoulder.</p> +<p>“What’s the good of shirking the evil hour? I’ve +lighted these candles for a sign of our return. After all, we +might not have been watched - while returning, I mean. Of course +we were seen leaving the house.”</p> +<p>The girl sat down again. The great wealth of her hair looked +very dark above her colourless face. She raised her eyes, glistening +softly in the light with a sort of unreadable appeal, with a strange +effect of unseeing innocence.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Heyst across the table, the fingertips of +one hand resting on the immaculate cloth. “A creature with +an antediluvian lower jaw, hairy like a mastodon, and formed like a +pre-historic ape, has laid this table. Are you awake, Lena? +Am I? I would pinch myself, only I know that nothing would do +away with this dream. Three covers. You know it is the shorter +of the two who’s coming - the gentleman who, in the play of his +shoulders as he walks, and in his facial structure, recalls a Jaguar. +Ah, you don’t know what a jaguar is? But you have had a +good look at these two. It’s the short one, you know, who’s +to be our guest.”</p> +<p>She made a sign with her head that she knew; Heyst’s insistence +brought Ricardo vividly before her mental vision. A sudden languor, +like the physical echo of her struggle with the man, paralysed all her +limbs. She lay still in the chair, feeling very frightened at +this phenomenon - ready to pray aloud for strength.</p> +<p>Heyst had started to pace the room.</p> +<p>“Our guest! There is a proverb - in Russia, I believe +- that when a guest enters the house, God enters the house. The +sacred virtue of hospitality! But it leads one into trouble as +well as any other.”</p> +<p>The girl unexpectedly got up from the chair, swaying her supple figure +and stretching her arms above her head. He stopped to look at +her curiously, paused, and then went on:</p> +<p>“I venture to think that God has nothing to do with such a +hospitality and with such a guest!”</p> +<p>She had jumped to her feet to react against the numbness, to discover +whether her body would obey her will. It did. She could +stand up, and she could move her arms freely. Though no physiologist, +she concluded that all that sudden numbness was in her head, not in +her limbs. Her fears assuaged, she thanked God for it mentally, +and to Heyst murmured a protest:</p> +<p>“Oh, yes! He’s got to do with everything - every +little thing. Nothing can happen - ”</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said hastily, “one of the two sparrows +can’t be struck to the ground - you are thinking of that.” +The habitual playful smile faded on the kindly lips under the martial +moustache. “Ah, you remember what you have been told - as +a child - on Sundays.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I do remember.” She sank into the chair again. +“It was the only decent bit of time I ever had when I was a kid, +with our landlady’s two girls, you know.”</p> +<p>“I wonder, Lena,” Heyst said, with a return to his urbane +playfulness, “whether you are just a little child, or whether +you represent something as old as the world.”</p> +<p>She surprised Heyst by saying dreamily:</p> +<p>“Well - and what about you?”</p> +<p>“I? I date later - much later. I can’t call +myself a child, but I am so recent that I may call myself a man of the +last hour - or is it the hour before last? I have been out of +it so long that I am not certain how far the hands of the clock have +moved since - since - ”</p> +<p>He glanced at the portrait of his father, exactly above the head +of the girl, as if it were ignoring her in its painted austerity of +feeling. He did not finish the sentence; but he did not remain +silent for long.</p> +<p>“Only what must be avoided are fallacious inferences, my dear +Lena - especially at this hour.”</p> +<p>“Now you are making fun of me again,” she said without +looking up.</p> +<p>“Am I?” he cried. “Making fun? No, +giving warning. Hang it all, whatever truth people told you in +the old days, there is also this one - that sparrows do fall to the +ground, that they are brought to the ground. This is no vain assertion, +but a fact. That’s why” - again his tone changed, +while he picked up the table knife and let it fall disdainfully - “that’s +why I wish these wretched round knives had some edge on them. +Absolute rubbish - neither edge, point, nor substance. I believe +one of these forks would make a better weapon at a pinch. But +can I go about with a fork in my pocket?” He gnashed his +teeth with a rage very real, and yet comic.</p> +<p>“There used to be a carver here, but it was broken and thrown +away a long time ago. Nothing much to carve here. It would +have made a noble weapon, no doubt; but - ”</p> +<p>He stopped. The girl sat very quiet, with downcast eyes. +As he kept silence for some time, she looked up and said thoughtfully:</p> +<p>“Yes, a knife - it’s a knife that you would want, wouldn’t +you, in case, in case - ”</p> +<p>He shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>“There must be a crowbar or two in the sheds; but I have given +up all the keys together. And then, do you see me walking about +with a crowbar in my hand? Ha, ha! And besides, that edifying +sight alone might start the trouble for all I know. In truth, +why has it not started yet?”</p> +<p>“Perhaps they are afraid of you,” she whispered, looking +down again.</p> +<p>“By Jove, it looks like it,” he assented meditatively. +“They do seem to hang back for some reason. Is that reason +prudence, or downright fear, or perhaps the leisurely method of certitude?”</p> +<p>Out in the black night, not very far from the bungalow, resounded +a loud and prolonged whistle. Lena’s hands grasped the sides +of the chair, but she made no movement. Heyst started, and turned +his face away from the door.</p> +<p>The startling sound had died away.</p> +<p>“Whistles, yells, omens, signals, portents - what do they matter?” +he said. “But what about the crowbar? Suppose I had +it! Could I stand in ambush at the side of the door - this door +- and smash the first protruding head, scatter blood and brains over +the floor, over these walls, and then run stealthily to the other door +to do the same thing - and repeat the performance for a third time, +perhaps? Could I? On suspicion, without compunction, with +a calm and determined purpose? No, it is not in me. I date +too late. Would you like to see me attempt this thing while that +mysterious prestige of mine lasts - or their not less mysterious hesitation?”</p> +<p>“No, no!” she whispered ardently, as if compelled to +speak by his eyes fixed on her face. “No, it’s a knife +you want to defend yourself with - to defend - there will be time - +”</p> +<p>“And who knows if it isn’t really my duty?” he +began again, as if he had not heard her disjointed words at all. +“It may be - my duty to you, to myself. For why should I +put up with the humiliation of their secret menaces? Do you know +what the world would say?”</p> +<p>He emitted a low laugh, which struck her with terror. She would +have got up, but he stooped so low over her that she could not move +without first pushing him away.</p> +<p>“It would say, Lena, that I - the Swede - after luring my friend +and partner to his death from mere greed of money, have murdered these +unoffending shipwrecked strangers from sheer funk. That would +be the story whispered - perhaps shouted - certainly spread out, and +believed - and believed, my dear Lena!”</p> +<p>“Who would believe such awful things?”</p> +<p>“Perhaps you wouldn’t - not at first, at any rate; but +the power of calumny grows with time. It’s insidious and +penetrating. It can even destroy one’s faith in oneself +- dry-rot the soul.”</p> +<p>All at once her eyes leaped to the door and remained fixed, stony, +a little enlarged. Turning his head, Heyst beheld the figure of +Ricardo framed in the doorway. For a moment none of the three +moved, then, looking from the newcomer to the girl in the chair, Heyst +formulated a sardonic introduction.</p> +<p>“Mr Ricardo, my dear.”</p> +<p>Her head drooped a little. Ricardo’s hand went up to +his moustache. His voice exploded in the room.</p> +<p>“At your service, ma’am!”</p> +<p>He stepped in, taking his hat off with a flourish, and dropping it +carelessly on a chair near the door.</p> +<p>“At your service,” he repeated, in quite another tone. +“I was made aware there was a lady about, by that Pedro of ours; +only I didn’t know I should have the privilege of seeing you tonight, +ma’am.”</p> +<p>Lena and Heyst looked at him covertly, but he, with a vague gaze +avoiding them both, looked at nothing, seeming to pursue some point +in space.</p> +<p>“Had a pleasant walk?” he asked suddenly.</p> +<p>“Yes. And you?” returned Heyst, who had managed +to catch his glance.</p> +<p>“I haven’t been a yard away from the governor this afternoon +till I started for here.” The genuineness of the accent +surprised Heyst, without convincing him of the truth of the words.</p> +<p>“Why do you ask?” pursued Ricardo with every inflection +of perfect candour.</p> +<p>“You might have wished to explore the island a little,” +said Heyst, studying the man, who, to render him justice, did not try +to free his captured gaze. “I may remind you that it wouldn’t +be a perfectly safe proceeding.”</p> +<p>Ricardo presented a picture of innocence.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes - meaning that Chink that has ran away from you. +He ain’t much!”</p> +<p>“He has a revolver,” observed Heyst meaningly.</p> +<p>“Well, and you have a revolver, too,” Mr. Ricardo argued +unexpectedly. “I don’t worry myself about that.”</p> +<p>“That’s different. I am not afraid of you,” +Heyst made answer after a short pause.</p> +<p>“Of me?”</p> +<p>“Of all of you.”</p> +<p>“You have a queer way of putting things,” began Ricardo.</p> +<p>At that moment the door on the compound side of the house came open +with some noise, and Pedro entered, pressing the edge of a loaded tray +to his breast. His big, hairy head rolled a little, his feet fell +in front of each other with a short, hard thump on the floor. +The arrival changed the current of Ricardo’s thought, perhaps, +but certainly of his speech.</p> +<p>“You heard me whistling a little while ago outside? That +was to give him a hint, as I came along, that it was time to bring in +the dinner; and here it is.”</p> +<p>Lena rose and passed to the right of Ricardo, who lowered his glance +for a moment. They sat down at the table. The enormous gorilla +back of Pedro swayed out through the door.</p> +<p>“Extraordinary strong brute, ma’am,” said Ricardo. +He, had a propensity to talk about “his Pedro,” as some +men will talk of their dog. “He ain’t pretty, though. +No, he ain’t pretty. And he has got to be kept under. +I am his keeper, as it might be. The governor don’t trouble +his head much about dee-tails. All that’s left to Martin. +Martin, that’s me, ma’am.”</p> +<p>Heyst saw the girl’s eyes turn towards Mr. Jones’s secretary +and rest blankly on his face. Ricardo, however, looked vaguely +into space, and, with faint flickers of a smile about his lips, made +conversation indefatigably against the silence of his entertainers. +He boasted largely of his long association with Mr. Jones - over four +years now, he said. Then, glancing rapidly at Heyst:</p> +<p>“You can see at once he’s a gentleman, can’t you?”</p> +<p>“You people,” Heyst said, his habitual playful intonation +tinged with gloom, “are divorced from all reality in my eyes.”</p> +<p>Ricardo received this speech as if he had been expecting to hear +those very words, or else did not mind at all what Heyst might say. +He muttered an absent-minded “Ay, ay,” played with a bit +of biscuit, sighed, and said, with a peculiar stare which did not seem +to carry any distance, but to stop short at a point in the air very +near his face:</p> +<p>“Anybody can see at once <i>you</i> are one. You and +the governor ought to understand each other. He expects to see +you tonight. The governor isn’t well, and we’ve got +to think of getting away from here.”</p> +<p>While saying these words he turned himself full towards Lena, but +without any marked expression. Leaning back with folded arms, +the girl stared before her as if she had been alone in the room. +But under that aspect of almost vacant unconcern the perils and emotion +that had entered into her life warmed her heart, exalted her mind with +a sense of an inconceivable intensity of existence.</p> +<p>“Really? Thinking of going away from here?” Heyst +murmured.</p> +<p>“The best of friends must part,” Ricardo pronounced slowly. +“And, as long as they part friends, there’s no harm done. +We two are used to be on the move. You, I understand, prefer to +stick in one place.”</p> +<p>It was obvious that all this was being said merely for the sake of +talking, and that Ricardo’s mind was concentrated on some purpose +unconnected with the words that were coming but of his mouth.</p> +<p>“I should like to know,” Heyst asked with incisive politeness, +“how you have come to understand this or anything else about me? +As far as I can remember, I’ve made you no confidences.”</p> +<p>Ricardo, gazing comfortably into space out of the back of his chair +- for some time all three had given up any pretence of eating - answered +abstractedly:</p> +<p>“Any fellow might have guessed it!” He sat up suddenly, +and uncovered all his teeth in a grin of extraordinary ferocity, which +was belied by the persistent amiability of his tone. “The +governor will be the man to tell you something about that. I wish +you would say you would see my governor. He’s the one who +does all our talking. Let me take you to him this evening. +He ain’t at all well; and he can’t make up his mind to go +away without having a talk with you.”</p> +<p>Heyst, looking up, met Lena’s eyes. Their expression +of candour seemed to hide some struggling intention. Her head, +he fancied, had made an imperceptible affirmative movement. Why? +What reason could she have? Was it the prompting of some obscure +instinct? Or was it simply a delusion of his own senses? +But in this strange complication invading the quietude of his life, +in his state of doubt and disdain and almost of despair with which he +looked at himself, he would let even a delusive appearance guide him +through a darkness so dense that it made for indifference.</p> +<p>“Well, suppose I <i>do</i> say so.”</p> +<p>Ricardo did not conceal his satisfaction, which for a moment interested +Heyst.</p> +<p>“It can’t be my life they are after,” he said to +himself. “What good could it be to them?”</p> +<p>He looked across the table at the girl. What did it matter +whether she had nodded or not? As always when looking into her +unconscious eyes, he tasted something like the dregs of tender pity. +He had decided to go. Her nod, imaginary or not imaginary, advice +or illusion, had tipped the scale. He reflected that Ricardo’s +invitation could scarcely be anything in the nature of a trap. +It would have been too absurd. Why carry subtly into a trap someone +already bound hand and foot, as it were?</p> +<p>All this time he had been looking fixedly at the girl he called Lena. +In the submissive quietness of her being, which had been her attitude +ever since they had begun their life on the island, she remained as +secret as ever. Heyst got up abruptly, with a smile of such enigmatic +and despairing character that Mr. Secretary Ricardo, whose abstract +gaze had an all-round efficiency, made a slight crouching start, as +if to dive under the table for his leg-knife - a start that was repressed, +as soon as begun. He had expected Heyst to spring on him or draw +a revolver, because he created for himself a vision of him in his own +image. Instead of doing either of these obvious things, Heyst +walked across the room, opened the door and put his head through it +to look out into the compound.</p> +<p>As soon as his back was turned, Ricardo’s hand sought the girl’s +arm under the table. He was not looking at her, but she felt the +groping, nervous touch of his search, felt suddenly the grip of his +fingers above her wrist. He leaned forward a little; still he +dared not look at her. His hard stare remained fastened on Heyst’s +back. In an extremely low hiss, his fixed idea of argument found +expression scathingly:</p> +<p>“See! He’s no good. He’s not the man +for you!”</p> +<p>He glanced at her at last. Her lips moved a little, and he +was awed by that movement without a sound. Next instant the hard +grasp of his fingers vanished from her arm. Heyst had shut the +door. On his way back to the table, he crossed the path of the +girl they had called Alma - she didn’t know why - also Magdalen, +whose mind had remained so long in doubt as to the reason of her own +existence. She no longer wondered at that bitter riddle, since +her heart found its solution in a blinding, hot glow of passionate pride.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER TEN</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>She passed by Heyst as if she had indeed been blinded by some secret, +lurid, and consuming glare into which she was about to enter. +The curtain of the bedroom door fell behind her into rigid folds. +Ricardo’s vacant gaze seemed to be watching the dancing flight +of a fly in mid air.</p> +<p>“Extra dark outside, ain’t it?” he muttered.</p> +<p>“Not so dark but that I could see that man of yours prowling +about there,” said Heyst in measured tones.</p> +<p>“What - Pedro? He’s scarcely a man you know; or +else I wouldn’t be so fond of him as I am.”</p> +<p>“Very well. Let’s call him your worthy associate.”</p> +<p>“Ay! Worthy enough for what we want of him. A great +standby is Peter in a scrimmage. A growl and a bite - oh, my! +And you don’t want him about?”</p> +<p>“I don’t.”</p> +<p>“You want him out of the way?” insisted Ricardo with +an affectation of incredulity which Heyst accepted calmly, though the +air in the room seemed to grow more oppressive with every word spoken.</p> +<p>“That’s it. I do want him out of the way.” +He forced himself to speak equably.</p> +<p>“Lor’! That’s no great matter. Pedro’s +not much use here. The business my governor’s after can +be settled by ten minutes’ rational talk with - with another gentleman. +Quiet talk!”</p> +<p>He looked up suddenly with hard, phosphorescent eyes. Heyst +didn’t move a muscle. Ricardo congratulated himself on having +left his revolver behind. He was so exasperated that he didn’t +know what he might have done. He said at last:</p> +<p>“You want poor, harmless Peter out of the way before you let +me take you to see the governor - is that it?”</p> +<p>“Yes, that is it.”</p> +<p>“H’m! One can see,” Ricardo said with hidden +venom, “that you are a gentleman; but all that gentlemanly fancifulness +is apt to turn sour on a plain man’s stomach. However - +you’ll have to pardon me.”</p> +<p>He put his fingers into his mouth and let out a whistle which seemed +to drive a thin, sharp shaft of air solidly against one’s nearest +ear-drum. Though he greatly enjoyed Heyst’s involuntary +grimace, he sat perfectly stolid waiting for the effect of the call.</p> +<p>It brought Pedro in with an extraordinary, uncouth, primeval impetuosity. +The door flew open with a clatter, and the wild figure it disclosed +seemed anxious to devastate the room in leaps and bounds; but Ricardo +raised his open palm, and the creature came in quietly. His enormous +half-closed paws swung to and fro a little in front of his bowed trunk +as he walked. Ricardo looked on truculently.</p> +<p>“You go to the boat - understand? Go now!”</p> +<p>The little red eyes of the tame monster blinked with painful attention +in the mass of hair.</p> +<p>“Well? Why don’t you get? Forgot human speech, +eh? Don’t you know any longer what a boat is?”</p> +<p>“<i>Si</i> - boat,” the creature stammered out doubtfully.</p> +<p>“Well, go there - the boat at the jetty. March off to +it and sit there, lie down there, do anything but go to sleep there +- till you hear my call, and then fly here. Them’s your +orders. March! Get, <i>vamos</i>! No, not that way +- out through the front door. No sulks!”</p> +<p>Pedro obeyed with uncouth alacrity. When he had gone, the gleam +of pitiless savagery went out of Ricardo’s yellow eyes, and his +physiognomy took on, for the first time that evening, the expression +of a domestic cat which is being noticed.</p> +<p>“You can watch him right into the bushes, if you like. +Too dark, eh? Why not go with him to the very spot, then?”</p> +<p>Heyst made a gesture of vague protest.</p> +<p>“There’s nothing to assure me that he will stay there. +I have no doubt of his going, but it’s an act without guarantee.”</p> +<p>“There you are!” Ricardo shrugged his shoulders +philosophically. “Can’t be helped. Short of +shooting our Pedro, nobody can make absolutely sure of his staying in +the same place longer than he has a mind to; but I tell you, he lives +in holy terror of my temper. That’s why I put on my sudden-death +air when I talk to him. And yet I wouldn’t shoot him - not +I, unless in such a fit of rage as would make a man shoot his favourite +dog. Look here, sir! This deal is on the square. I +didn’t tip him a wink to do anything else. He won’t +budge from the jetty. Are you coming along now, sir?”</p> +<p>A short-silence ensued. Ricardo’s jaws were working ominously +under his skin. His eyes glided: voluptuously here and there, +cruel and dreamy, Heyst checked a sudden movement, reflected for a while, +then said:</p> +<p>“You must wait a little.”</p> +<p>“Wait a little! Wait a little! What does he think +a fellow is - a graven image?” grumbled Ricardo half audibly.</p> +<p>Heyst went into the bedroom, and shut the door after him with a bang. +Coming from the light, he could not see a thing in there at first; yet +he received the impression of the girl getting up from the floor. +On the less opaque darkness of the shutter-hole, her head detached itself +suddenly, very faint, a mere hint of a round, dark shape without a face.</p> +<p>“I am going, Lena. I am going to confront these scoundrels.” +He was surprised to feel two arms falling on his shoulders. “I +thought that you - ” he began.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes!” the girl whispered hastily.</p> +<p>She neither clung to him, nor yet did she try to draw him to her. +Her hands grasped his shoulders, and she seemed to him to be staring +into his face in the dark. And now he could see something of her +face, too - an oval without features - and faintly distinguish her person, +in the blackness, a form without definite lines.</p> +<p>“You have a black dress here, haven’t you, Lena?” +he asked, speaking rapidly, and so low that she could just hear him.</p> +<p>“Yes - an old thing.”</p> +<p>“Very good. Put it on at once.”</p> +<p>“But why?”</p> +<p>“Not for mourning!” Them was something peremptory +in the slightly ironic murmur. “Can you find it and get +into it in the dark?”</p> +<p>She could. She would try. He waited, very still. +He could imagine her movements over there at the far end of the room; +but his eyes, accustomed now to the darkness, had lost her completely. +When she spoke, her voice surprised him by its nearness. She had +done what he had told her to do, and had approached him, invisible.</p> +<p>“Good! Where’s that piece of purple veil I’ve +seen lying about?” he asked.</p> +<p>There was no answer, only a slight rustle.</p> +<p>“Where is it?” he repeated impatiently.</p> +<p>Her unexpected breath was on his cheek.</p> +<p>“In my hands.”</p> +<p>“Capital! Listen, Lena. As soon as I leave the +bungalow with that horrible scoundrel, you slip out at the back - instantly, +lose no time! - and run round into the forest. That will be your +time, while we are walking away, and I am sure he won’t give me +the slip. Run into the forest behind the fringe of bushes between +the big trees. You will know, surely, how to find a place in full +view of the front door. I fear for you; but in this black dress, +with most of your face muffled up in that dark veil, I defy anybody +to find you there before daylight. Wait in the forest till the +table is pushed into full view of the doorway, and you see three candles +out of four blown out and one relighted - or, should the lights be put +out here while you watch them, wait till three candles are lighted and +then two put out. At either of these signals run back as hard +as you can, for it will mean that I am waiting for you here.”</p> +<p>While he was speaking, the girl had sought and seized one of his +hands. She did not press it; she held it loosely, as it were timidly, +caressingly. It was no grasp; it was a mere contact, as if only +to make sure that he was there, that he was real and no mere darker +shadow in the obscurity. The warmth of her hand gave Heyst a strange, +intimate sensation of all her person. He had to fight down a new +sort of emotion, which almost unmanned him. He went on, whispering +sternly:</p> +<p>“But if you see no such signals, don’t let anything - +fear, curiosity, despair, or hope - entice you back to this house; and +with the first sign of dawn steal away along the edge of the clearing +till you strike the path. Wait no longer, because I shall probably +be dead.”</p> +<p>The murmur of the word “Never!” floated into his ear +as if it formed itself in the air.</p> +<p>“You know the path,” he continued. “Make +your way to the barricade. Go to Wang - yes, to Wang. Let +nothing stop you!” It seemed to him that the girl’s +hand trembled a little. “The worst he can do to you is to +shoot you, but he won’t. I really think he won’t, +if I am not there. Stay with the villagers, with the wild people, +and fear nothing. They will be more awed by you than you can be +frightened of them. Davidson’s bound to turn up before very +long. Keep a look-out for a passing steamer. Think of some +sort of signal to call him.”</p> +<p>She made no answer. The sense of the heavy, brooding silence +in the outside world seemed to enter and fill the room - the oppressive +infinity of it, without breath, without light. It was as if the +heart of hearts had ceased to beat and the end of all things had come.</p> +<p>“Have you understood? You are to run out of the house +at once,” Heyst whispered urgently.</p> +<p>She lifted his hand to her lips and let it go. He was startled.</p> +<p>“Lena!” he cried out under his breath.</p> +<p>She was gone from his side. He dared not trust himself - no, +not even to the extent of a tender word.</p> +<p>Turning to go out he heard a thud somewhere in the house. To +open the door, he had first to lift the curtain; he did so with his +face over his shoulder. The merest trickle of light, earning through +the keyhole and one or two cracks, was enough for his eyes to see her +plainly, all black, down on her knees, with her head and arms flung +on the foot of the bed - all black in the desolation of a mourning sinner. +What was this? A suspicion that there were everywhere more things +than he could understand crossed Heyst’s mind. Her arm, +detached from the bed, motioned him away. He obeyed, and went +out, full of disquiet.</p> +<p>The curtain behind him had not ceased to tremble when she was up +on her feet, close against it, listening for sounds, for words, in a +stooping, tragic attitude of stealthy attention, one hand clutching +at her breast as if to compress, to make less loud the beating of her +heart. Heyst had caught Mr. Jones’s secretary in the contemplation +of his closed writing-desk. Ricardo might have been meditating +how to break into it; but when he turned about suddenly, he showed so +distorted a face that it made Heyst pause in wonder at the upturned +whites of the eyes, which were blinking horribly, as if the man were +inwardly convulsed.</p> +<p>“I thought you were never coming,” Ricardo mumbled.</p> +<p>“I didn’t know you were pressed for time. Even +if your going away depends on this conversation, as you say, I doubt +if you are the men to put to sea on such a night as this,” said +Heyst, motioning Ricardo to precede him out of the house.</p> +<p>With feline undulations of hip and shoulder, the secretary left the +room at once. There was something cruel in the absolute dumbness +of the night. The great cloud covering half the sky hung right +against one, like an enormous curtain hiding menacing preparations of +violence. As the feet of the two men touched the ground, a rumble +came from behind it, preceded by a swift, mysterious gleam of light +on the waters of the bay.</p> +<p>“Ha!” said Ricardo. “It begins.”</p> +<p>“It may be nothing in the end,” observed Heyst, stepping +along steadily.</p> +<p>“No! Let it come!” Ricardo said viciously. +“I am in the humour for it!”</p> +<p>By the time the two men had reached the other bungalow, the far-off +modulated rumble growled incessantly, while pale lightning in waves +of cold fire flooded and ran off the island in rapid succession. +Ricardo, unexpectedly, dashed ahead up the steps and put his head through +the doorway.</p> +<p>“Here he is, governor! Keep him with you as long as you +can - till you hear me whistle. I am on the track.”</p> +<p>He flung these words into the room with inconceivable speed, and +stood aside to let the visitor pass through the doorway; but he had +to wait an appreciable moment, because Heyst, seeing his purpose, had +scornfully slowed his pace. When Heyst entered the room it was +with a smile, the Heyst smile, lurking under his martial moustache.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER ELEVEN</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Two candles were burning on the stand-up desk. Mr. Jones, tightly +enfolded in an old but gorgeous blue silk dressing-gown, kept his elbows +close against his sides and his hands deeply plunged into the extraordinarily +deep pockets of the garment. The costume accentuated his emaciation. +He resembled a painted pole leaning against the edge of the desk, with +a dried head of dubious distinction stuck on the top of it. Ricardo +lounged in the doorway. Indifferent in appearance to what was +going on, he was biding his time. At a given moment, between two +flickers of lightning, he melted out of his frame into the outer air. +His disappearance was observed on the instant by Mr. Jones, who abandoned +his nonchalant immobility against the desk, and made a few steps calculated +to put him between Heyst and the doorway.</p> +<p>“It’s awfully close,” he remarked</p> +<p>Heyst, in the middle of the room, had made up his mind to speak plainly.</p> +<p>“We haven’t met to talk about the weather. You +favoured me earlier in the day with a rather cryptic phrase about yourself. +‘I am he that is,’ you said. What does that mean?”</p> +<p>Mr. Jones, without looking at Heyst, continued his absentminded movements +till, attaining the desired position, he brought his shoulders with +a thump against the wall near the door, and raised his head. In +the emotion of the decisive moment his haggard face glistened with perspiration. +Drops ran down his hollow cheeks and almost blinded the spectral eyes +in their bony caverns.</p> +<p>“It means that I am a person to be reckoned with. No +- stop! Don’t put your hand into your pocket - don’t.”</p> +<p>His voice had a wild, unexpected shrillness. Heyst started, +and there ensued a moment of suspended animation, during which the thunder’s +deep bass muttered distantly and the doorway to the right of Mr. Jones +flickered with bluish light. At last Heyst shrugged his shoulders; +he even looked at his hand. He didn’t put it in his pocket, +however. Mr. Jones, glued against the wall, watched him raise +both his hands to the ends of his horizontal moustaches, and answered +the note of interrogation in his steady eyes.</p> +<p>“A matter of prudence,” said Mr. Jones in his natural +hollow tones, and with a face of deathlike composure. “A +man of your free life has surely perceived that. You are a much +talked-about man, Mr. Heyst - and though, as far as I understand, you +are accustomed to employ the subtler weapons of intelligence, still +I can’t afford to take any risks of the - er - grosser methods. +I am not unscrupulous enough to be a match for you in the use of intelligence; +but I assure you, Mr. Heyst, that in the other way you are no match +for me. I have you covered at this very moment. You have +been covered ever since you entered this room. Yes - from my pocket.”</p> +<p>During this harangue Heyst looked deliberately over his shoulder, +stepped back a pace, and sat down on the end of the camp bedstead. +Leaning his elbow on one knee, he laid his cheek in the palm of his +hand and seemed to meditate on what he should say next. Mr. Jones, +planted against the wall, was obviously waiting for some sort of overture. +As nothing came, he resolved to speak himself; but he hesitated. +For, though he considered that the most difficult step had been taken, +he said to himself that every stage of progress required great caution, +lest the man in Ricardo’s phraseology, should “start to +prance” - which would be most inconvenient. He fell back +on a previous statement:</p> +<p>“And I am a person to be reckoned with.”</p> +<p>The other man went on looking at the floor, as if he were alone in +the room. There was a pause.</p> +<p>“You have heard of me, then?” Heyst said at length, looking +up.</p> +<p>“I should think so! We have been staying at Schomberg’s +hotel.”</p> +<p>“Schom - ” Heyst choked on the word.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter, Mr. Heyst?”</p> +<p>“Nothing. Nausea,” Heyst said resignedly. +He resumed his former attitude of meditative indifference. “What +is this reckoning you are talking about?” he asked after a time, +in the quietest possible tone. “I don’t know you.”</p> +<p>“It’s obvious that we belong to the same - social sphere,” +began Mr. Jones with languid irony. Inwardly he was as watchful +as he could be. “Something has driven you out - the originality +of your ideas, perhaps. Or your tastes.”</p> +<p>Mr Jones indulged in one of his ghastly smiles. In repose his +features had a curious character of evil, exhausted austerity; but when +he smiled, the whole mask took on an unpleasantly infantile expression. +A recrudescence of the rolling thunder invaded the room loudly, and +passed into silence.</p> +<p>“You are not taking this very well,” observed Mr. Jones. +This was what he said, but as a matter of fact he thought that the business +was shaping quite satisfactorily. The man, he said to himself, +had no stomach for a fight. Aloud he continued: “Come! +You can’t expect to have it always your own way. You are +a man of the world.”</p> +<p>“And you?” Heyst interrupted him unexpectedly. +“How do you define yourself?”</p> +<p>“I, my dear sir? In one way I am - yes, I am the world +itself, come to pay you a visit. In another sense I am an outcast +- almost an outlaw. If you prefer a less materialistic view, I +am a sort of fate - the retribution that waits its time.”</p> +<p>“I wish to goodness you were the commonest sort of ruffian!” +said Heyst, raising his equable gaze to Mr. Jones. “One +would be able to talk to you straight then, and hope for some humanity. +As it is - ”</p> +<p>“I dislike violence and ferocity of every sort as much as you +do,” Mr. Jones declared, looking very languid as he leaned against +the wall, but speaking fairly loud. “You can ask my Martin +if it is not so. This, Mr. Heyst, is a soft age. It is also +an age without prejudices. I’ve heard that you are free +from them yourself. You mustn’t be shocked if I tell you +plainly that we are after your money - or I am, if you prefer to make +me alone responsible. Pedro, of course, knows no more of it than +any other animal would. Ricardo is of the faithful-retainer class +- absolutely identified with all my ideas, wishes, and even whims!”</p> +<p>Mr Jones pulled his left hand out of his pocket, got a handkerchief +out of another, and began to wipe the perspiration from his forehead, +neck, and chin. The excitement from which he suffered made his +breathing visible. In his long dressing-gown he had the air of +a convalescent invalid who had imprudently overtaxed his strength. +Heyst, broad-shouldered, robust, watched the operation from the end +of the camp bedstead, very calm, his hands on his knees.</p> +<p>“And by the by,” he asked, “where is he now, that +henchman of yours? Breaking into my desk?”</p> +<p>“That would be crude. Still, crudeness is one of life’s +conditions.” There was the slightest flavour of banter in +the tone of Ricardo’s governor. “Conceivable, but +unlikely. Martin is a little crude; but you are not, Mr. Heyst. +To tell you the truth, I don’t know precisely where he is. +He has been a little mysterious of late; but he has my confidence. +No, don’t get up, Mr. Heyst!”</p> +<p>The viciousness of his spectral face was indescribable. Heyst, +who had moved a little, was surprised by the disclosure.</p> +<p>“It was not my intention,” he said.</p> +<p>“Pray remain seated,” Mr. Jones insisted in a languid +voice, but with a very determined glitter in his black eye-caverns.</p> +<p>“If you were more observant,” said Heyst with dispassionate +contempt, “you would have known before I had been five minutes +in the room that I had no weapon of any sort on me.”</p> +<p>“Possibly; but pray keep your hands still. They are very +well where they are. This is too big an affair for me to take +any risks.”</p> +<p>“Big? Too big?” Heyst repeated with genuine surprise. +“Good Heavens! Whatever you are looking for, there’s +very little of it here - very little of anything.”</p> +<p>“You would naturally say so, but that’s not what we have +heard,” retorted Mr. Jones quickly, with a grin so ghastly that +it was impossible to think it voluntary.</p> +<p>Heyst’s face had grown very gloomy. He knitted his brows.</p> +<p>“What have you heard?” he asked.</p> +<p>“A lot, Mr. Heyst - a lot,” affirmed Mr. Jones. +He was vying to recover his manner of languid superiority. “We +have heard, for instance, of a certain Mr. Morrison, once your partner.”</p> +<p>Heyst could not repress a slight movement.</p> +<p>“Aha!” said Mr. Jones, with a sort of ghostly glee on +his face.</p> +<p>The muffled thunder resembled the echo of a distant cannonade below +the horizon, and the two men seemed to be listening to it in sullen +silence.</p> +<p>“This diabolical calumny will end in actually and literally +taking my life from me,” thought Heyst.</p> +<p>Then, suddenly, he laughed. Portentously spectral, Mr. Jones +frowned at the sound.</p> +<p>“Laugh as much as you please,” he said. “I, +who have been hounded out from society by a lot of highly moral souls, +can’t see anything funny in that story. But here we are, +and you will now have to pay for your fun, Mr. Heyst.”</p> +<p>“You have heard a lot of ugly lies,” observed Heyst. +“Take my word for it!”</p> +<p>“You would say so, of course - very natural. As a matter +of fact I haven’t heard very much. Strictly speaking, it +was Martin. He collects information, and so on. You don’t +suppose I would talk to that Schomberg animal more than I could help? +It was Martin whom he took into his confidence.”</p> +<p>“The stupidity of that creature is so great that it becomes +formidable,” Heyst said, as if speaking to himself.</p> +<p>Involuntarily, his mind turned to the girl, wandering in the forest, +alone and terrified. Would he ever see her again? At that +thought he nearly lost his self-possession. But the idea that +if she followed his instructions those men were not likely to find her +steadied him a little. They did not know that the island had any +inhabitants; and he himself once disposed of, they would be too anxious +to get away to waste time hunting for a vanished girl.</p> +<p>All this passed through Heyst’s mind in a flash, as men think +in moments of danger. He looked speculatively at Mr. Jones, who, +of course, had never for a moment taken his eyes from his intended victim. +And, the conviction came to Heyst that this outlaw from the higher spheres +was an absolutely hard and pitiless scoundrel.</p> +<p>Mr Jones’s voice made him start.</p> +<p>“It would be useless, for instance, to tell me that your Chinaman +has run off with your money. A man living alone with a Chinaman +on an island takes care to conceal property of that kind so well that +the devil himself - ”</p> +<p>“Certainly,” Heyst muttered.</p> +<p>Again, with his left hand, Mr. Jones mopped his frontal bone, his +stalk-like neck, his razor jaws, his fleshless chin. Again his +voice faltered and his aspect became still more gruesomely malevolent +as of a wicked and pitiless corpse.</p> +<p>“I see what you mean,” he cried, “but you mustn’t +put too much trust in your ingenuity. You don’t strike me +as a very ingenious person, Mr. Heyst. Neither am I. My +talents lie another way. But Martin - ”</p> +<p>“Who is now engaged in rifling my desk,” interjected +Heyst.</p> +<p>“I don’t think so. What I was going to say is that +Martin is much cleverer than a Chinaman. Do you believe in racial +superiority, Mr. Heyst? I do, firmly. Martin is great at +ferreting out such secrets as yours, for instance.”</p> +<p>“Secrets like mine!” repeated Heyst bitterly. “Well +I wish him joy of all he can ferret out!”</p> +<p>“That’s very kind of you,” remarked Mr. Jones. +He was beginning to be anxious for Martin’s return. Of iron +self-possession at the gaming-table, fearless in a sudden affray, he +found that this rather special kind of work was telling on his nerves. +“Keep still as you are!” he cried sharply.</p> +<p>“I’ve told you I am not armed,” said Heyst, folding +his arms on his breast.</p> +<p>“I am really inclined to believe that you are not,” admitted +Mr. Jones seriously. “Strange!” he mused aloud, the +caverns of his eyes turned upon Heyst. Then briskly: “But +my object is to keep you in this room. Don’t provoke me, +by some unguarded movement, to smash your knee or do something definite +of that sort.” He passed his tongue over his lips, which +were dry and black, while his forehead glistened with moisture. +“I don’t know if it wouldn’t be better to do it at +once!”</p> +<p>“He who deliberates is lost,” said Heyst with grave mockery.</p> +<p>Mr Jones disregarded the remark. He had the air of communing +with himself.</p> +<p>“Physically I am no match for you,” he said slowly, his +black gaze fixed upon the man sitting on the end of the bed. “You +could spring - ”</p> +<p>“Are you trying to frighten yourself?” asked Heyst abruptly. +“You don’t seem to have quite enough pluck for your business. +Why don’t you do it at once?”</p> +<p>Mr Jones, taking violent offence, snorted like a savage skeleton.</p> +<p>“Strange as it may seem to you, it is because of my origin, +my breeding, my traditions, my early associations, and such-like trifles. +Not everybody can divest himself of the prejudices of a gentleman as +easily as you have done, Mr, Heyst. But don’t worry about +my pluck. If you were to make a clean spring at me, you would +receive in mid air, so to speak, something that would make you perfectly +harmless by the time you landed. No, don’t misapprehend +us, Mr. Heyst. We are - er - adequate bandits; and we are after +the fruit of your labours as a - er - successful swindler. It’s +the way of the world - gorge and disgorge!”</p> +<p>He leaned wearily the back of his head against the wall. His +vitality seemed exhausted. Even his sunken eyelids drooped within +the bony sockets. Only his thin, waspish, beautifully pencilled +eyebrows, drawn together a little, suggested the will and the power +to sting - something vicious, unconquerable, and deadly.</p> +<p>“Fruits! Swindler!” repeated Heyst, without heat, +almost without contempt. “You are giving yourself no end +of trouble, you and your faithful henchman, to crack an empty nut. +There are no fruits here, as you imagine. There are a few sovereigns, +which you may have if you like; and since you have called yourself a +bandit - ”</p> +<p>“Yaas!” drawled Mr. Jones. “That, rather +than a swindler. Open warfare at least!”</p> +<p>“Very good! Only let me tell you that there were never +in the world two more deluded bandits - never!”</p> +<p>Heyst uttered these words with such energy that Mr. Jones, stiffening +up, seemed to become thinner and taller in his metallic blue dressing-gown +against the whitewashed wall.</p> +<p>“Fooled by a silly, rascally innkeeper!” Heyst went on. +“Talked over like a pair of children with a promise of sweets!”</p> +<p>“I didn’t talk with that disgusting animal,” muttered +Mr. Jones sullenly; “but he convinced Martin, who is no fool.”</p> +<p>“I should think he wanted very much to be convinced,” +said Heyst, with the courteous intonation so well known in the Islands. +“I don’t want to disturb your touching trust in your - your +follower, but he must be the most credulous brigand in existence. +What do you imagine? If the story of my riches were ever so true, +do you think Schomberg would have imparted it to you from sheer altruism? +Is that the way of the world, Mr. Jones?”</p> +<p>For a moment the lower jaw of Ricardo’s gentleman dropped; +but it came up with a snap of scorn, and he said with spectral intensity:</p> +<p>“The beast is cowardly! He was frightened, and wanted +to get rid of us, if you want to know, Mr. Heyst. I don’t +know that the material inducement was so very great, but I was bored, +and we decided to accept the bribe. I don’t regret it. +All my life I have been seeking new impressions, and you have turned +out to be something quite out of the common. Martin, of course, +looks to the material results. He’s simple - and faithful +- and wonderfully acute.”</p> +<p>“Ah, yes! He’s on the track - ” and now Heyst’s +speech had the character of politely grim raillery - “but not +sufficiently on the track, as yet, to make it quite convenient to shoot +me without more ado. Didn’t Schomberg tell you precisely +where I conceal the fruit of my rapines? Pah! Don’t +you know he would have told you anything, true or false, from a very +clear motive? Revenge! Mad hate - the unclean idiot!”</p> +<p>Mr Jones did not seem very much moved. On his right hand the +doorway incessantly flickered with distant lightning, and the continuous +rumble of thunder went on irritatingly, like the growl of an inarticulate +giant muttering fatuously.</p> +<p>Heyst overcame his immense repugnance to allude to her whose image, +cowering in the forest was constantly before his eyes, with all the +pathos and force of its appeal, august, pitiful, and almost holy to +him. It was in a hurried, embarrassed manner that he went on:</p> +<p>“If it had not been for that girl whom he persecuted with his +insane and odious passion, and who threw herself on my protection, he +would never have - but you know well enough!”</p> +<p>“I don’t know!” burst out Mr. Jones with amazing +heat. “That hotel-keeper tried to talk to me once of some +girl he had lost, but I told him I didn’t want to hear any of +his beastly women stories. It had something to do with you, had +it?”</p> +<p>Heyst looked on serenely at this outburst, then lost his patience +a little.</p> +<p>“What sort of comedy is this? You don’t mean to +say that you didn’t know that I had - that there was a girl living +with me here?”</p> +<p>One could see that the eyes of Mr. Jones had become fixed in the +depths of their black holes by the gleam of white becoming steady there. +The whole man seemed frozen still.</p> +<p>“Here! Here!” he screamed out twice. There +was no mistaking his astonishment, his shocked incredulity - something +like frightened disgust.</p> +<p>Heyst was disgusted also, but in another way. He too was incredulous. +He regretted having mentioned the girl; but the thing was done, his +repugnance had been overcome in the heat of his argument against the +absurd bandit.</p> +<p>“Is it possible that you didn’t know of that significant +fact?” he inquired. “Of the only effective truth in +the welter of silly lies that deceived you so easily?”</p> +<p>“No, I didn’t!” Mr. Jones shouted. “But +Martin did!” he added in a faint whisper, which Heyst’s +ears just caught and no more.</p> +<p>“I kept her out of sight as long as I could,” said Heyst. +“Perhaps, with your bringing up traditions, and so on; you will +understand my reason for it.”</p> +<p>“He knew. He knew before!” Mr. Jones mourned +in a hollow voice. “He knew of her from the first!”</p> +<p>Backed hard against the wall he no longer watched Heyst. He +had the air of a man who had seen an abyss yawning under his feet.</p> +<p>“If I want to kill him, this is my time,” thought Heyst; +but he did not move.</p> +<p>Next moment Mr. Jones jerked his head up, glaring with sardonic fury.</p> +<p>“I have a good mind to shoot you, you woman-ridden hermit, +you man in the moon, that can’t exist without - no, it won’t +be you that I’ll shoot. It’s the other woman-lover +- the prevaricating, sly, low-class, amorous cuss! And he shaved +- shaved under my very nose. I’ll shoot him!”</p> +<p>“He’s gone mad,” thought Heyst, startled by the +spectre’s sudden fury.</p> +<p>He felt himself more in danger, nearer death, than ever since he +had entered that room. An insane bandit is a deadly combination. +He did not, could not know that Mr. Jones was quick-minded enough to +see already the end of his reign over his excellent secretary’s +thoughts and feelings; the coming failure of Ricardo’s fidelity. +A woman had intervened! A woman, a girl, who apparently possessed +the power to awaken men’s disgusting folly. Her power had +been proved in two instances already - the beastly innkeeper, and that +man with moustaches, upon whom Mr. Jones, his deadly right hand twitching +in his pocket, glared more in repulsion than in anger. The very +object of the expedition was lost from view in his sudden and overwhelming +sense of utter insecurity. And this made Mr. Jones feel very savage; +but not against the man with the moustaches. Thus, while Heyst +was really feeling that his life was not worth two minutes, purchase, +he heard himself addressed with no affection of languid impertinence +but with a burst of feverish determination.</p> +<p>“Here! Let’s call a truce!” said Mr. Jones.</p> +<p>Heyst’s heart was too sick to allow him to smile.</p> +<p>“Have I been making war on you?” he asked wearily. +“How do you expect me to attach any meaning to your words?” +he went on. “You seem to be a morbid, senseless sort of +bandit. We don’t speak the same language. If I were +to tell you why I am here, talking to you, you wouldn’t believe +me, because you would not understand me. It certainly isn’t +the love of life, from which I have divorced myself long ago - not sufficiently, +perhaps; but if you are thinking of yours, then I repeat to you that +it has never been in danger from me. I am unarmed.”</p> +<p>Mr Jones was biting his lower lip, in a deep meditation. It +was only towards the last that he looked at Heyst.</p> +<p>“Unarmed, eh?” Then he burst out violently: “I +tell you, a gentleman is no match for the common herd. And yet +one must make use of the brutes. Unarmed, eh? And I suppose +that creature is of the commonest sort. You could hardly have +got her out of a drawing-room. Though they’re all alike, +for that matter. Unarmed! It’s a pity. I am +in much greater danger than you are or were - or I am much mistaken. +But I am not - I know my man!”</p> +<p>He lost his air of mental vacancy and broke out into shrill exclamations. +To Heyst they seemed madder than anything that had gone before.</p> +<p>“On the track! On the scent!” he cried, forgetting +himself to the point of executing a dance of rage in the middle of the +floor.</p> +<p>Heyst looked on, fascinated by this skeleton in a gay dressing-gown, +jerkily agitated like a grotesque toy on the end of an invisible string. +It became quiet suddenly.</p> +<p>“I might have smelt a rat! I always knew that this would +be the danger.” He changed suddenly to a confidential tone, +fixing his sepulchral stare on Heyst. “And yet here I am, +taken in by the fellow, like the veriest fool. I’ve been +always on the watch for some beastly influence, but here I am, fairly +caught. He shaved himself right in front of me and I never guessed!”</p> +<p>The shrill laugh, following on the low tone of secrecy, sounded so +convincingly insane that Heyst got up as if moved by a spring. +Mr. Jones stepped back two paces, but displayed no uneasiness.</p> +<p>“It’s as clear as daylight!” he uttered mournfully, +and fell silent.</p> +<p>Behind him the doorway flickered lividly, and the sound as of a naval +action somewhere away on the horizon filled the breathless pause. +Mr, Jones inclined his head on his shoulder. His mood had completely +changed.</p> +<p>“What do you say, unarmed man? Shall we go and see what +is detaining my trusted Martin so long? He asked me to keep you +engaged in friendly conversation till he made a further examination +of that track. Ha, ha, ha!”</p> +<p>“He is no doubt ransacking my house,” said Heyst.</p> +<p>He was is bewildered. It seemed to him that all this was an +incomprehensible dream, or perhaps an elaborate other-world joke, contrived +by that spectre in a gorgeous dressing gown.</p> +<p>Mr Jones looked at him with a horrible, cadaverous smile of inscrutable +mockery, and pointed to the door. Heyst passed through it first. +His feelings had become so blunted that he did not care how soon he +was shot in the back.</p> +<p>“How oppressive the air is!” the voice of Mr. Jones said +at his elbow. “This stupid storm gets on my nerves. +I would welcome some rain, though it would be unpleasant to get wet. +On the other hand, this exasperating thunder has the advantage of covering +the sound of our approach. The lightning’s not so convenient. +Ah, your house is fully illuminated! My clever Martin is punishing +your stock of candles. He belongs to the unceremonious classes, +which are also unlovely, untrustworthy, and so on.”</p> +<p>“I left the candles burning,” said Heyst, “to save +him trouble.”</p> +<p>“You really believed he would go to your house?” asked +Mr. Jones with genuine interest.</p> +<p>“I had that notion, strongly. I do believe he is there +now.”</p> +<p>“And you don’t mind?”</p> +<p>“No!”</p> +<p>“You don’t!” Mr. Jones stopped to wonder. +“You are an extraordinary man,” he said suspiciously, and +moved on, touching elbows with Heyst.</p> +<p>In the latter’s breast dwelt a deep silence, the complete silence +of unused faculties. At this moment, by simply shouldering Mr. +Jones, he could have thrown him down and put himself, by a couple of +leaps, beyond the certain aim of the revolver; but he did not even think +of that. His very will seemed dead of weariness. He moved +automatically, his head low, like a prisoner captured by the evil power +of a masquerading skeleton out of a grave. Mr. Jones took charge +of the direction. They fetched a wide sweep. The echoes +of distant thunder seemed to dog their footsteps.</p> +<p>“By the by,” said Mr. Jones, as if unable to restrain +his curiosity, “aren’t you anxious about that - ouch! - +that fascinating creature to whom you owe whatever pleasure you can +find in our visit?”</p> +<p>“I have placed her in safety,” said Heyst. “I +- I took good care of that.”</p> +<p>Mr Jones laid a hand on his arm.</p> +<p>“You have? Look! is that what you mean?”</p> +<p>Heyst raised his head. In the flicker of lightning the desolation +of the cleared ground on his left leaped out and sank into the night, +together with the elusive forms of things distant, pale, unearthly. +But in the brilliant square of the door he saw the girl - the woman +he had longed to see once more as if enthroned, with her hands on the +arms of the chair. She was in black; her face was white, her head +dreamily inclined on her breast. He saw her only as low as her +knees. He saw her - there, in the room, alive with a sombre reality. +It was no mocking vision. She was not in the forest - but there! +She sat there in the chair, seemingly without strength, yet without +fear, tenderly stooping.</p> +<p>“Can you understand their power?” whispered the hot breath +of Mr. Jones into his ear. “Can there be a more disgusting +spectacle? It’s enough to make the earth detestable. +She seems to have found her affinity. Move on closer. If +I have to shoot you in the end, then perhaps you will die cured.”</p> +<p>Heyst obeyed the pushing pressure of a revolver barrel between his +shoulders. He felt it distinctly, but he did not feel the ground +under his feet. They found the steps, without his being aware +that he was ascending them - slowly, one by one. Doubt entered +into him - a doubt of a new kind, formless, hideous. It seemed +to spread itself all over him, enter his limbs, and lodge in his entrails. +He stopped suddenly, with a thought that he who experienced such a feeling +had no business to live - or perhaps was no longer living.</p> +<p>Everything - the bungalow, the forest, the open ground - trembled +incessantly, the earth, the sky itself, shivered all the time, and the +only thing immovable in the shuddering universe was the interior of +the lighted room and the woman in black sitting in the light of the +eight candle-flames. They flung around her an intolerable brilliance +which hurt his eyes, seemed to sear his very brain with the radiation +of infernal heat. It was some time before his scorched eyes made +out Ricardo seated on the floor at some little distance, his back to +the doorway, but only partly so; one side of his upturned face showing +the absorbed, all forgetful rapture of his contemplation.</p> +<p>The grip of Mr. Jones’s hard claw drew Heyst back a little. +In the roll of thunder, swelling and subsiding, he whispered in his +ear a sarcastic: “Of course!”</p> +<p>A great shame descended upon Heyst - the shame of guilt, absurd and +maddening. Mr. Jones drew him still farther back into the darkness +of the veranda.</p> +<p>“This is serious,” he went on, distilling his ghostly +venom into Heyst’s very ear. “I had to shut my eyes +many times to his little flings; but this is serious. He has found +his soul-mate. Mud souls, obscene and cunning! Mud bodies, +too - the mud of the gutter! I tell you, we are no match for the +vile populace. I, even I, have been nearly caught. He asked +me to detain you till he gave me the signal. It won’t be +you that I’ll have to shoot, but him. I wouldn’t trust +him near me for five minutes after this!”</p> +<p>He shook Heyst’s arm a little.</p> +<p>“If you had not happened to mention the creature, we should +both have been dead before morning. He would have stabbed you +as you came down the steps after leaving me and then he would have walked +up to me and planted the same knife between my ribs. He has no +prejudices. The viler the origin, the greater the freedom of these +simple souls!”</p> +<p>He drew a cautious, hissing breath and added in an agitated murmur: +“I can see right into his mind, I have been nearly caught napping +by his cunning.”</p> +<p>He stretched his neck to peer into the room from the side. +Heyst, too, made a step forward, under the slight impulse of that slender +hand clasping his hand with a thin, bony grasp.</p> +<p>“Behold!” the skeleton of the crazy bandit jabbered thinly +into his ear in spectral fellowship. “Behold the simple, +Acis kissing the sandals of the nymph, on the way to her lips, all forgetful, +while the menacing life of Polyphemus already sounds close at hand - +if he could only hear it! Stoop a little.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER TWELVE</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>On returning to the Heyst bungalow, rapid as if on wings, Ricardo +found Lena waiting for him. She was dressed in black; and at once +his uplifting exultation was replaced by an awed and quivering patience +before her white face, before the immobility of her reposeful pose, +the more amazing to him who had encountered the strength of her limbs +and the indomitable spirit in her body. She had come out after +Heyst’s departure, and had sat down under the portrait to wait +for the return of the man of violence and death. While lifting +the curtain, she felt the anguish of her disobedience to her lover, +which was soothed by a feeling she had known before - a gentle flood +of penetrating sweetness. She was not automatically obeying a +momentary suggestion, she was under influences more deliberate, more +vague, and of greater potency. She had been prompted, not by her +will, but by a force that was outside of her and more worthy. +She reckoned upon nothing definite; she had calculated nothing. +She saw only her purpose of capturing death - savage, sudden, irresponsible +death, prowling round the man who possessed her, death embodied in the +knife ready to strike into his heart. No doubt it had been a sin +to throw herself into his arms. With that inspiration that descends +at times from above for the good or evil of our common mediocrity, she +had a sense of having been for him only a violent and sincere choice +of curiosity and pity - a thing that passes. She did not know +him. If he were to go away from her and disappear, she would utter +no reproach, she would not resent it; for she would hold in herself +the impress of something most rare and precious - his embraces made +her own by her courage in saving his life.</p> +<p>All she thought of - the essence of her tremors, her flushes of heat, +and her shudders of cold - was the question how to get hold of that +knife, the mark and sign of stalking death. A tremor of impatience +to clutch the frightful thing, glimpsed once and unforgettable, agitated +her hands.</p> +<p>The instinctive flinging forward of these hands stopped Ricardo dead +short between the door and her chair, with the ready obedience of a +conquered man who can bide his time. Her success disconcerted +her. She listened to the man’s impassioned transports of +terrible eulogy and even more awful declarations of love. She +was even able to meet his eyes, oblique, apt to glide away, throwing +feral gleams of desire.</p> +<p>“No!” he was saying, after a fiery outpouring of words +in which the most ferocious phrases of love were mingled with wooing +accents of entreaty. “I will have no more of it! Don’t +you mistrust me. I am sober in my talk. Feel how quietly +my heart beats. Ten times today when you, you, you, swam in my +eye, I thought it would burst one of my ribs or leap out of my throat. +It has knocked itself dead and tired, waiting for this evening, for +this very minute. And now it can do no more. Feel how quiet +it is!”</p> +<p>He made a step forward, but she raised her clear voice commandingly:</p> +<p>“No nearer!”</p> +<p>He stopped with a smile of imbecile worship on his lips, and with +the delighted obedience of a man who could at any moment seize her in +his hands and dash her to the ground.</p> +<p>“Ah! If I had taken you by the throat this morning and +had my way with you, I should never have known what you am. And +now I do. You are a wonder! And so am I, in my way. +I have nerve, and I have brains, too. We should have been lost +many times but for me. I plan - I plot for my gentleman. +Gentleman - pah! I am sick of him. And you are sick of yours, +eh? You, you!”</p> +<p>He shook all over; he cooed at her a string of endearing names, obscene +and tender, and then asked abruptly:</p> +<p>“Why don’t you speak to me?”</p> +<p>“It’s my part to listen,” she said, giving him +an inscrutable smile, with a flush on her cheek and her lips cold as +ice.</p> +<p>“But you will answer me?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” she said, her eyes dilated as if with sudden interest.</p> +<p>“Where’s that plunder? Do you know?”</p> +<p>“No! Not yet.”</p> +<p>“But there is plunder stowed somewhere that’s worth having?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I think so. But who knows?” she added after +a pause.</p> +<p>“And who cares?” he retorted recklessly. “I’ve +had enough of this crawling on my belly. It’s you who are +my treasure. It’s I who found you out where a gentleman +had buried you to rot for his accursed pleasure!”</p> +<p>He looked behind him and all around for a seat, then turned to her +his troubled eyes and dim smile.</p> +<p>“I am dog-tired,” he said, and sat down on the floor. +“I went tired this morning, since I came in here and started talking +to you - as tired as if I had been pouring my life-blood here on these +planks for you to dabble your white feet in.”</p> +<p>Unmoved, she nodded at him thoughtfully. Woman-like, all her +faculties remained concentrated on her heart’s desire - on the +knife - while the man went on babbling insanely at her feet, ingratiating +and savage, almost crazy with elation. But he, too, was holding +on to his purpose.</p> +<p>“For you! For you I will throw away money, lives - all +the lives but mine! What you want is a man, a master that will +let you put the heel of your shoe on his neck; not that skulker, who +will get tired of you in a year - and you of him. And then what? +You are not the one to sit still; neither am I. I live for myself, +and you shall live for yourself, too - not for a Swedish baron. +They make a convenience of people like you and me. A gentleman +is better than an employer, but an equal partnership against all the +’yporcrits is the thing for you and me. We’ll go on +wandering the world over, you and I both free and both true. You +are no cage bird. We’ll rove together, for we are of them +that have no homes. We are born rovers!”</p> +<p>She listened to him with the utmost attention, as if any unexpected +word might give her some sort of opening to get that dagger, that awful +knife - to disarm murder itself, pleading for her love at her feet. +Again she nodded at him thoughtfully, rousing a gleam in his yellow +eyes, yearning devotedly upon her face. When he hitched himself +a little closer, her soul had no movement of recoil. This had +to be. Anything had to be which would bring the knife within her +reach. He talked more confidentially now.</p> +<p>“We have met, and their time has come,” he began, looking +up into her eyes. “The partnership between me and my gentleman +has to be ripped up. There’s no room for him where we two +are. Why, he would shoot me like a dog! Don’t you +worry. This will settle it not later than tonight!”</p> +<p>He tapped his folded leg below the knee, and was surprised, flattered, +by the lighting up of her face, which stooped towards him eagerly and +remained expectant, the lips girlishly parted, red in the pale face, +and quivering in the quickened drawing of her breath.</p> +<p>“You marvel, you miracle, you man’s luck and joy - one +in a million! No, the only one. You have found your man +in me,” he whispered tremulously. “Listen! They +are having their last talk together; for I’ll do for your gentleman, +too, by midnight.”</p> +<p>Without the slightest tremor she murmured, as soon as the tightening +of her breast had eased off and the words would come:</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t be in too much of a hurry - with him.”</p> +<p>The pause, the tone, had all the value of meditated advice.</p> +<p>“Good, thrifty girl!” he laughed low, with a strange +feline gaiety, expressed by the undulating movement of his shoulders +and the sparkling snap of his oblique eyes. “You am still +thinking about the chance of that swag. You’ll make a good +partner, that you will! And, I say, what a decoy you will make! +Jee-miny!”</p> +<p>He was carried away for a moment, but his face darkened swiftly.</p> +<p>“No! No reprieve. What do you think a fellow is +- a scarecrow? All hat and clothes and no feeling, no inside, +no brain to make fancies for himself? No!” he went on violently. +“Never in his life will he go again into that room of yours - +never any more!”</p> +<p>A silence fell. He was gloomy with the torment of his jealousy, +and did not even look at her. She sat up and slowly, gradually, +bent lower and lower over him, as if ready to fall into his arms. +He looked up at last, and checked this droop unwittingly.</p> +<p>“Say! You, who are up to fighting a man with your bare +hands, could you - eh? - could you manage to stick one with a thing +like that knife of mine?”</p> +<p>She opened her eyes very wide and gave him a wild smile.</p> +<p>“How can I tell?” she whispered enchantingly. “Will +you let me have a look at it?”</p> +<p>Without taking his eyes from her face, he pulled the knife out of +its sheath - a short, broad, cruel double-edged blade with a bone handle +- and only then looked down at it.</p> +<p>“A good friend,” he said simply. “Take it +in your hand and feel the balance,” he suggested.</p> +<p>At the moment when she bent forward to receive it from him, there +was a flash of fire in her mysterious eyes - a red gleam in the white +mist which wrapped the promptings and longings of her soul. She +had done it! The very sting of death was in her hands, the venom +of the viper in her paradise, extracted, safe in her possession - and +the viper’s head all but lying under her heel. Ricardo, +stretched on the mats of the floor, crept closer and closer to the chair +in which she sat.</p> +<p>All her thoughts were busy planning how to keep possession of that +weapon which had seemed to have drawn into itself every danger and menace +on the death-ridden earth. She said with a low laugh, the exultation +in which he failed to recognize:</p> +<p>“I didn’t think that you would ever trust me with that +thing!”</p> +<p>“Why not?”</p> +<p>“For fear I should suddenly strike you with it.”</p> +<p>“What for? For this morning’s work? Oh, no! +There’s no spite in you for that. You forgave me. +You saved me. You got the better of me, too. And anyhow, +what good would it be?”</p> +<p>“No, no good,” she admitted.</p> +<p>In her heart she felt that she would not know how to do it; that +if it came to a struggle, she would have to drop the dagger and fight +with her hands.</p> +<p>“Listen. When we are going about the world together, +you shall always call me husband. Do you hear?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” she said bracing herself for the contest, in whatever +shape it was coming.</p> +<p>The knife was lying in her lap. She let it slip into the fold +of her dress, and laid her forearms with clasped fingers over her knees, +which she pressed desperately together. The dreaded thing was +out of sight at last. She felt a dampness break out all over her.</p> +<p>“I am not going to hide you, like that good-for-nothing, finicky, +sneery gentleman. You shall be my pride and my chum. Isn’t +that better than rotting on an island for the pleasure of a gentleman, +till he gives you the chuck?”</p> +<p>“I’ll be anything you like,” she said.</p> +<p>In his intoxication he crept closer with every word she uttered, +with every movement she made.</p> +<p>“Give your foot,” he begged in a timid murmur, and in +the full consciousness of his power.</p> +<p>Anything! Anything to keep murder quiet and disarmed till strength +had returned to her limbs and she could make up her mind what to do. +Her fortitude had been shaken by the very facility of success that had +come to her. She advanced her foot forward a little from under +the hem of her skirt; and he threw himself on it greedily. She +was not even aware of him. She had thought of the forest, to which +she had been told to run. Yes, the forest - that was the place +for her to carry off the terrible spoil, the sting of vanquished death. +Ricardo, clasping her ankle, pressed his lips time after time to the +instep, muttering gasping words that were like sobs, making little noises +that resembled the sounds of grief and distress. Unheard by them +both, the thunder growled distantly with angry modulations of it’s +tremendous voice, while the world outside shuddered incessantly around +the dead stillness of the room where the framed profile of Heyst’s +father looked severely into space.</p> +<p>Suddenly Ricardo felt himself spurned by the foot he had been cherishing +- spurned with a push of such violence into the very hollow of his throat +that it swung him back instantly into an upright position on his knees. +He read his danger in the stony eyes of the girl; and in the very act +of leaping to his feet he heard sharply, detached on the comminatory +voice of the storm the brief report of a shot which half stunned him, +in the manner of a blow. He turned his burning head, and saw Heyst +towering in the doorway. The thought that the beggar had started +to prance darted through his mind. For a fraction of a second +his distracted eyes sought for his weapon an over the floor. He +couldn’t see it.</p> +<p>“Stick him, you!” he called hoarsely to the girl, and +dashed headlong for the door of the compound.</p> +<p>While he thus obeyed the instinct of self-preservation, his reason +was telling him that he could not possibly reach it alive. It +flew open, however, with a crash, before his launched weight, and instantly +he swung it to behind him. There, his shoulder leaning against +it, his hands clinging to the handle, dazed and alone in the night full +of shudders and muttered menaces, he tried to pull himself together. +He asked himself if he had been shot at more than once. His shoulder +was wet with the blood trickling from his head. Feeling above +his ear, he ascertained that it was only a graze, but the shock of the +surprise had unmanned him for the moment.</p> +<p>What the deuce was the governor about to let the beggar break loose +like this? Or - was the governor dead, perhaps?</p> +<p>The silence within the room awed him. Of going back there could +be no question.</p> +<p>“But she know show to take care of her self,” he muttered.</p> +<p>She had his knife. It was she now who was deadly, while he +was disarmed, no good for the moment. He stole away from the door, +staggering, the warm trickle running down his neck, to find out what +had become of the governor and to provide himself with a firearm from +the armoury in the trunks.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER THIRTEEN</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Mr Jones, after firing his shot over Heyst’s shoulder, had +thought it proper to dodge away. Like the spectre he was, he noiselessly +vanished from the veranda. Heyst stumbled into the room and looked +around. All the objects in there - the books, portrait on the +wall - seemed shadowy, unsubstantial, the dumb accomplices of an amazing +dream-plot ending in an illusory effect of awakening and the impossibility +of ever closing his eyes again. With dread he forced himself to +look at the girl. Still in the chair, she was leaning forward +far over her knees, and had hidden her face in her hands. Heyst +remembered Wang suddenly. How clear all this was - and how extremely +amusing! Very.</p> +<p>She sat up a little, then leaned back, and taking her hands from +her face, pressed both of them to her breast as if moved to the heart +by seeing him there looking at her with a black, horror-struck curiosity. +He would have pitied her, if the triumphant expression of her face had +not given him a shock which destroyed the balance of his feelings. +She spoke with an accent of wild joy:</p> +<p>“I knew you would come back in time! You are safe now. +I have done it! I would never, never have let him - ” +Her voice died out, while her eyes shone at him as when the sun breaks +through a mist. “Never get it back. Oh, my beloved!”</p> +<p>He bowed his head gravely, and said in his polite. Heystian +tone:</p> +<p>“No doubt you acted from instinct. Women have been provided +with their own weapon. I was a disarmed man, I have been a disarmed +man all my life as I see it now. You may glory in your resourcefulness +and your profound knowledge of yourself; but I may say that the other +attitude, suggestive of shame, had its charm. For you are full +of charm!”</p> +<p>The exultation vanished from her face.</p> +<p>“You mustn’t make fun of me now. I know no shame. +I was thanking God with all my sinful heart for having been able to +do it - for giving you to me in that way - oh, my beloved - all my own +at last!”</p> +<p>He stared as if mad. Timidly she tried to excuse herself for +disobeying his directions for her safety. Every modulation of +her enchanting voice cut deep into his very breast, so that he could +hardly understand the words for the sheer pain of it. He turned +his back on her; but a sudden drop, an extraordinary faltering of her +tone, made him spin round. On her white neck her pale head dropped +as in a cruel drought a withered flower droops on its stalk. He +caught his breath, looked at her closely, and seemed to read some awful +intelligence in her eyes. At the moment when her eyelids fell +as if smitten from above by an the gleam of old silver familiar to him +from boyhood, the very invisible power, he snatched her up bodily out +of the chair, and disregarding an unexpected metallic clatter on the +floor, carried her off into the other room. The limpness of her +body frightened him. Laying her down on the bed, he ran out again, +seized a four-branched candlestick on the table, and ran back, tearing +down with a furious jerk the curtain that swung stupidly in his way, +but after putting the candlestick on the table by the bed, he remained +absolutely idle. There did not seem anything more for him to do. +Holding his chin in his hand he looked down intently at her still face.</p> +<p>“Has she been stabbed with this thing?” asked Davidson, +whom suddenly he saw standing by his side and holding up Ricardo’s +dagger to his sight. Heyst uttered no word of recognition or surprise. +He gave Davidson only a dumb look of unutterable awe, then, as if possessed +with a sudden fury, started tearing open the front of the girls dress. +She remained insensible under his hands, and Heyst let out a groan which +made Davidson shudder inwardly the heavy plaint of a man who falls clubbed +in the dark.</p> +<p>They stood side by side, looking mournfully at the little black hole +made by Mr. Jones’s bullet under the swelling breast of a dazzling +and as it were sacred whiteness. It rose and fell slightly - so +slightly that only the eyes of the lover could detect the faint stir +of life. Heyst, calm and utterly unlike himself in the face, moving +about noiselessly, prepared a wet cloth, and laid it on the insignificant +wound, round which there was hardly a trace of blood to mar the charm, +the fascination, of that mortal flesh.</p> +<p>Her eyelids fluttered. She looked drowsily about, serene, as +if fatigued only by the exertions of her tremendous victory, capturing +the very sting of death in the service of love. But her eyes became +very wide awake when they caught sight of Ricardo’s dagger, the +spoil of vanquished death, which Davidson was still holding, unconsciously.</p> +<p>“Give it to me,” she said. “It’s mine.”</p> +<p>Davidson put the symbol of her victory into her feeble hands extended +to him with the innocent gesture of a child reaching eagerly for a toy.</p> +<p>“For you,” she gasped, turning her eyes to Heyst. +“Kill nobody.”</p> +<p>“No,” said Heyst, taking the dagger and laying it gently +on her breast, while her hands fell powerless by her side.</p> +<p>The faint smile on her deep-cut lips waned, and her head sank deep +into the pillow, taking on the majestic pallor and immobility of marble. +But over the muscles, which seemed set in their transfigured beauty +for ever, passed a slight and awful tremor. With an amazing strength +she asked loudly:</p> +<p>“What’s the matter with me?”</p> +<p>“You have been shot, dear Lena,” Heyst said in a steady +voice, while Davidson, at the question, turned away and leaned his forehead +against the post of the foot of the bed.</p> +<p>“Shot? I did think, too, that something had struck me.”</p> +<p>Over Samburan the thunder had ceased to growl at last, and the world +of material forms shuddered no more under the emerging stars. +The spirit of the girl which was passing away from under them clung +to her triumph convinced of the reality of her victory over death.</p> +<p>“No more,” she muttered. “There will be no +more! Oh, my beloved,” she cried weakly, “I’ve +saved you! Why don’t you take me into your arms and carry +me out of this lonely place?”</p> +<p>Heyst bent low over her, cursing his fastidious soul, which even +at that moment kept the true cry of love from his lips in its infernal +mistrust of all life. He dared not touch her and she had no longer +the strength to throw her arms about his neck.</p> +<p>“Who else could have done this for you?” she whispered +gloriously.</p> +<p>“No one in the world,” he answered her in a murmur of +unconcealed despair.</p> +<p>She tried to raise herself, but all she could do was to lift her +head a little from the pillow. With a terrible and gentle movement, +Heyst hastened to slip his arm under her neck. She felt relieved +at once of an intolerable weight, and was content to surrender to him +the infinite weariness of her tremendous achievement. Exulting, +she saw herself extended on the bed, in a black dress, and profoundly +at peace, while, stooping over her with a kindly, playful smile, he +was ready to lift her up in his firm arms and take her into the sanctuary +of his innermost heart - for ever! The flush of rapture flooding +her whole being broke out in a smile of innocent, girlish happiness; +and with that divine radiance on her lips she breathed her, last triumphant, +seeking for his glance in the shades of death.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h3>CHAPTER FOURTEEN</h3> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“Yes, Excellency,” said Davidson in his placid voice; +“there are more dead in this affair - more white people, I mean +- than have been killed in many of the battles in the last Achin war.”</p> +<p>Davidson was talking with an Excellency, because what was alluded +to in conversation as “the mystery of Samburan” had caused +such a sensation in the Archipelago that even those in the highest spheres +were anxious to hear something at first hand. Davidson had been +summoned to an audience. It was a high official on his tour.</p> +<p>“You knew the late Baron Heyst well?”</p> +<p>“The truth is that nobody out here can boast of having known +him well,” said Davidson. “He was a queer chap. +I doubt if he himself knew how queer he was. But everybody was +aware that I was keeping my eye on him in a friendly way. And +that’s how I got the warning which made me turn round in my tracks. +In the middle of my trip and steam back to Samburan, where, I am grieved +to say, I arrived too late.”</p> +<p>Without enlarging very much, Davidson explained to the attentive +Excellency how a woman, the wife of a certain hotel-keeper named Schomberg, +had overheard two card-sharping rascals making inquiries from her husband +as to the exact position of the island. She caught only a few +words referring to the neighbouring volcano, but there were enough to +arouse her suspicions - “which,” went on Davidson, “she +imparted to me, your Excellency. They were only too well founded!”</p> +<p>“That was very clever of her,” remarked the great man.</p> +<p>“She’s much cleverer than people have any conception +of,” said Davidson.</p> +<p>But he refrained from disclosing to the Excellency the real cause +which had sharpened Mrs. Schomberg’s wits. The poor woman +was in mortal terror of the girl being brought back within reach of +her infatuated Wilhelm. Davidson only said that her agitation +had impressed him; but he confessed that while going back, he began +to have his doubts as to there being anything in it.</p> +<p>“I steamed into one of those silly thunderstorms that hang +about the volcano, and had some trouble in making the island,” +narrated Davidson. “I had to grope my way dead slow into +Diamond Bay. I don’t suppose that anybody, even if looking +out for me, could have heard me let go the anchor.”</p> +<p>He admitted that he ought to have gone ashore at once; but everything +was perfectly dark and absolutely quiet. He felt ashamed of his +impulsiveness. What a fool he would have looked, waking up a man +in the middle of the night just to ask him if he was all right! +And then the girl being there, he feared that Heyst would look upon +his visit as an unwarrantable intrusion.</p> +<p>The first intimation he had of there being anything wrong was a big +white boat, adrift, with the dead body of a very hairy man inside, bumping +against the bows of his steamer. Then indeed he lost no time in +going ashore - alone, of course, from motives of delicacy.</p> +<p>“I arrived in time to see that poor girl die, as I have told +your Excellency,” pursued Davidson. “I won’t +tell you what a time I had with him afterwards. He talked to me. +His father seems to have been a crank, and to have upset his head when +he was young. He was a queer chap. Practically the last +words be said to me, as we came out on the veranda, were:</p> +<p>“‘Ah, Davidson, woe to the man whose heart has not learned +while young to hope, to love - and to put its trust in life!’</p> +<p>“As we stood there, just before I left him, for he said be +wanted to be alone with his dead for a time, we heard a snarly sort +of voice near the bushes by the shore calling out:</p> +<p>“‘Is that you, governor?’</p> +<p>“‘Yes, it’s me.’</p> +<p>“‘Jeeminy! I thought the beggar had done for you. +He has started prancing and nearly had me. I have been dodging +around, looking for you ever since.’</p> +<p>“‘Well, here I am,’ suddenly screamed the other +voice, and then a shot rang out.</p> +<p>“‘This time he has not missed him,’ Heyst said +to me bitterly, and went back into the house.</p> +<p>“I returned on board as he had insisted I should do. +I didn’t want to intrude on his grief. Later, about five +in the morning, some of my calashes came running to me, yelling that +there was a fire ashore. I landed at once, of course. The +principal bungalow was blazing. The heat drove us back. +The other two houses caught one after another like kindling-wood. +There was no going beyond the shore end of the jetty till the afternoon.”</p> +<p>Davidson sighed placidly.</p> +<p>“I suppose you are certain that Baron Heyst is dead?”</p> +<p>“He is - ashes, your Excellency,” said Davidson, wheezing +a little; “he and the girl together. I suppose he couldn’t +stand his thoughts before her dead body - and fire purifies everything. +That Chinaman of whom I told your Excellency helped me to investigate +next day, when the embers got cooled a little. We found enough +to be sure. He’s not a bad Chinaman. He told me that +he had followed Heyst and the girl through the forest from pity, and +partly out of curiosity. He watched the house till he saw Heyst +go out, after dinner, and Ricardo come back alone. While he was +dodging there, it occurred to him that he had better cast the boat adrift, +for fear those scoundrels should come round by water and bombard the +village from the sea with their revolvers and Winchesters. He +judged that they were devils enough for anything. So he walked +down the wharf quietly; and as he got into the boat, to cast her off, +that hairy man who, it seems, was dozing in her, jumped up growling, +and Wang shot him dead. Then he shoved the boat off as far as +he could and went away.”</p> +<p>There was a pause. Presently Davidson went on, in his tranquil +manner:</p> +<p>“Let Heaven look after what has been purified. The wind +and rain will take care of the ashes. The carcass of that follower, +secretary, or whatever the unclean ruffian called himself, I left where +it lay, to swell and rot in the sun. His principal had shot him +neatly through the head. Then, apparently, this Jones went down +to the wharf to look for the boat and for the hairy man. I suppose +he tumbled into the water by accident - or perhaps not by accident. +The boat and the man were gone, and the scoundrel saw himself alone, +his game clearly up, and fairly trapped. Who knows? The +water’s very clear there, and I could see him huddled up on the +bottom, between two piles, like a heap of bones in a blue silk bag, +with only the head and the feet sticking out. Wang was very pleased +when he discovered him. That made everything safe, he said, and +he went at once over the hill to fetch his Alfuro woman back to the +hut.”</p> +<p>Davidson took out his handkerchief to wipe the perspiration off his +forehead.</p> +<p>“And then, your Excellency, I went away. There was nothing +to be done there.”</p> +<p>“Clearly!” assented the Excellency.</p> +<p>Davidson, thoughtful, seemed to weigh the matter in his mind, and +then murmured with placid sadness:</p> +<p>“Nothing!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p><i>October</i> 1912 - <i>May</i> 1914</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, VICTORY ***</p> +<pre> + +******This file should be named vcty10h.htm or vcty10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, vcty11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, vcty10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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