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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/78222-0.txt b/78222-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..521e8f6 --- /dev/null +++ b/78222-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9971 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78222 *** + + + + + THE CRIMSON + BUTTERFLY + + _By_ EDMUND SNELL + + + + + T. FISHER UNWIN LTD + LONDON: ADELPHI TERRACE + + + + + [COPYRIGHT] + + _First published_ 1924. + _Second Impression_ (_Popular Edition_) 1926 + + (_All rights reserved_) + + + + + CONTENTS + + I. THE COMING OF ABU-SAMAR + II. THE CRIMSON BUTTERFLY + III. ARMOURER ENTERTAINS + IV. A DANCE AT REMBAKUT + V. BATTISCOMBE ASSERTS HIMSELF + VI. THE MAGIC OF ABU-SAMAR + VII. A STRANGE INSECT + VIII. THE PROFESSOR TURNS NATURALIST + IX. THE TRAGEDY AT BUKIT-SERANG + X. THE MYSTERY DEEPENS + XI. JOYCE DISPLAYS CURIOSITY + XII. COLLEAGUES CONFER + XIII. A NOCTURNAL EXPEDITION + XIV. AT VANCE’S PLACE + XV. A SECOND VICTIM + XVI. THE BUTTERFLY RETURNS + XVII. A STRANGE PHENOMENON + XVIII. THE PROFESSOR CHANGES HIS VIEWS + XIX. AN IMPORTANT CAPTURE + XX. JOYCE GOES TO JESSELTON + XXI. THE SIREN SPEAKS + XXII. DISAPPEARANCE OF MRS. BATTISCOMBE + XXIII. THE HUT IN THE TREES + XXIV. THE GODDESS OF THE BUTTERFLY + XXV. OUTNUMBERED + XXVI. DARA DECIDES + XXVII. ARMOURER PLANS AN ADVANCE + XXVIII. THE ANTIDOTE + XXIX. IN THE CLUTCHES OF ABU-SAMAR + XXX. ABU EXPLAINS + XXXI. TRAPPED IN THE BREEDING-HOUSE + XXXII. BATTISCOMBE BRINGS NEWS + XXXIII. A MOVE IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION + XXXIV. THE TEMPLE OF THE CRIMSON BUTTERFLY + XXXV. THE FRUITS OF VICTORY + + + + + THE CRIMSON BUTTERFLY + + CHAPTER I. + The Coming of Abu-Samar + +James Battiscombe--district officer at Rembakut--emerged from the +little courthouse that formed the ground floor of his bungalow, +directed his monocle upon a group of natives that still lingered in +the clearing, and, turning abruptly on his heel, negotiated the flight +of steps that led to the verandah. + +He sat down somewhat heavily and touched the bell. + +“Bring me a drink--a long drink,” he said to the _boy_ who appeared in +response to his summons. + +At the sound of his voice Vera Battiscombe raised her head from the +cushion upon which it had reposed. + +“That you, Jim?” + +The magistrate stretched himself and crossed the floor. He selected a +portion of the wooden rail in the immediate vicinity of his wife’s +chair and leaned his broad back against it. + +“Well?” he inquired. + +She raised her finely marked brows. + +“Well?” she echoed. “Had a busy morning?” + +Battiscombe groaned. + +“A confounded, interminable land dispute. The worst of native +witnesses is that they go such a devil of a long way round, and if you +attempt to interrupt ’em they never come to the point at all. Lord! +isn’t it hot!” + +He mopped a large red face with a coloured handkerchief. + +Vera had never been fearfully in love with James Battiscombe, but she +simulated an intense interest in his affairs to suit her own ends. Her +husband, on the contrary, still basked in the sunshine of fatuous +contentment at having by some miraculous means persuaded so beautiful +a creature to consent to share his existence. A devoted, uncomplaining +mountain of flesh, normally content with the smallest of favours, he +vaguely wondered why she stopped with him out there at all. These +Borneo wilds, he was wont to reason, were good enough in their way +where mere man was concerned, but for a woman--cultured and used to a +lot of amusement, well, hang it all----! He was oblivious of his +wife’s shortcomings to such an extent that his friends were constantly +divided between an anxious desire to kick him and an equally anxious +desire not to hurt his feelings--and consequently did nothing. + +Whenever a particularly persistent rumour floated to Battiscombe’s +ears he would shrug his shoulders and explain with wide-open eyes that +anyway she was damn’ good to him, and, if he wasn’t complaining, what +the devil had it got to do with anybody else? + +“And his excellency the _Tuan-Hakim_ gave his learned decision, I +suppose, and everybody went off very pleased with themselves?” + +The magistrate laughed. + +“Not the least bit like it. His excellency postponed the hearing of +the case until to-morrow, thereby neglecting his duty in the interests +of thirst.” + +He took the glass from the _boy_ and winked broadly across it at his +wife. + +“Well, here’s all the best! Are not the waters of Abana and +what’s-his-name greater than all the rivers of Israel, what?--Jove, I +wanted that!--Then, old thing, to cap it all, I was forced into an +unseemly dispute with a most extraordinary creature.” He drew a +crumpled visiting card from his pocket and read: “‘Dr. Abu-Samar’--and +a whole string of letters that I suppose stand for something or +other.” + +Mrs. Battiscombe squirmed herself into a sitting position and rested +her chin on her hand. + +“Dr. Abu-Samar!” + +Her husband nodded. + +“He pushed in just after I’d instructed Corporal Kuraman to clear the +court, and insisted on seeing me.” + +“What was he like?” + +“Oh, a tall thin chap with a blue serge suit and a red _fez_, a brown +face and an enormous pair of tortoise-shell spectacles. Apart from all +this, he had an extremely unpleasant way of looking at one. Just a +moment. I’ll ring the bell.” + +Vera raised a hand. + +“Not another one, dear! You know you don’t want it.” + +Battiscombe grinned. + +“I know I do!” + +She shook her head. + +“Not before lunch.” + +He shrugged his shoulders and deposited the empty tumbler on a small +bamboo table. + +“Right-oh, little woman; suppose you know best. Anyhow, about this +Abu-Samar feller; he told me that he was an expert in tropical +diseases and intended offering his services to the neighbouring +planters as such. I suggested that the planting syndicates were +already fully equipped with medicoes and that the Chartered Company +had a few others of its own knocking around looking after the general +health of the community--when they weren’t playing golf.” + +“And----?” + +“And, oh, he didn’t seem to think any of ’em counted for very much. +However, that’s his affair. He pitched the usual yarn of being the son +of a chief somewhere way-back, gave me to understand that he had pots +of money and had returned to his own country to reform the notions of +his fellow blacks as to the treatment of sickness. He indulged in a +long rigmarole about removing the film from their eyes and uplifting +the coloured inhabitants of Borneo until they were fit to rub +shoulders with the more cultured European, and somewhere about that +point I began to smell a rat. I was confoundedly hot and thirsty and I +just itched to boot the fellow into the clearing, when he capped +everything with a cool request that I should put him up for membership +of the club!” + +A ripple of laughter escaped Mrs. Battiscombe. + +“And then you _booted_ him!” + +The magistrate set his jaw grimly. + +“I booted him! I called upon the corporal first, but he didn’t seem +especially anxious--so I carried out the operation myself. He sat down +on the grass outside and became abusive and threatening. Began a long +preamble commencing with the statement that knowledge was power and +concluding with a veiled threat to employ his marvellous knowledge in +wiping out the entire white population of the island. I fancy he was +annoyed really because I tore his trousers.” + +Vera slipped from her chair and joined him at the rail. + +She leaned over, peering in all directions, but could discover nothing +more unusual than a belt of mature cocopalms and a sky of infinite +azure. + +“What happened to him?” she demanded. + +“He cleared out in the end, with a little boy in white holding an +elaborate yellow umbrella over him and one hand wandering all round +his neck to see if his collar was still there. I threatened to arrest +him, and he ultimately realised that I meant it and was not at all +impressed with either his letters or his wardrobe.” + +“Quite an exciting morning!” + +“Oh, quite! My blood was up--and I let him have it hot.” + +Mrs. Battiscombe smiled. + +“My cave-man!” she murmured, and patted his sleeve with a +well-simulated affection that prompted the magistrate to squeeze her +arm to indicate that in him also the fires of romance were not +entirely burnt out. + +He produced a cigarette and tapped it thoughtfully on his thumb-nail. + +“I’m running into Jesselton this afternoon,” he remarked suddenly. +“Coming?” + +“No.” + +He lit up and tossed the match into the clearing. + +“Oh! why not?” + +Mrs. Battiscombe coloured slightly. + +“Because, my dear man, it happens to be Thursday, and you know I +promised to ride over to Dick Moberly’s to inspect the new clubhouse +he’s erected for his assistants. You’ve a terrible memory, Jim.” + +“I must have, for to tell you the honest truth I can’t recall having +ever heard that Moberly had built a clubhouse for his men or that he +wanted you to inspect it.” A shadow crossed his face. “I say, Vera, +aren’t you seeing rather a lot of Dick Moberly?” + +“Jim!” + +It was the first sign the proverbial worm had ever shown of turning, +and--feeble as the effort was--it startled her. + +“Well,” pursued the magistrate with dogged persistence, passing a +nervous finger round the inside of his collar, “you are, aren’t you?” + +She came right up to him and, resting her hands lightly on his tunic, +gazed unflinchingly into his face. + +“You’re not suggesting that there’s anything--_wrong_ between Dick and +me?” + +A light flashed suddenly in his eyes and died down as quickly as it +had come. + +“Good heavens, no! Only--well, people will keep talking. I suppose +it’s because they’ve nothing else to do. If I’d listened to a tithe of +the yarns that are going around about you, I’d have booked your +passage home long ago. Perhaps it’s a good thing I don’t jump at +conclusions.” + +Vera Battiscombe suppressed a smile. She could not imagine her husband +jumping at anything. + +She stared hard at a cluster of scraggy fowls picking for sustenance +in a scattered heap of straw. + +“And what are they saying about us?” she demanded. + +The magistrate cleared his throat. + +“Oh, the usual things. Look here, Vera, don’t think I’m complaining, +because I’m not; but try and vary things a bit; you know what I mean. +People notice you; they can’t help it, because you’re so confoundedly +good-looking. I didn’t tell you at the time--I didn’t think it was +worth repeating--but over a week ago I overheard a scrap of +conversation in Sandakan--and knocked a man down for his share in it.” + +Vera’s head came sharply round, and if he had looked he would have +seen that she was paler than usual. + +“Well? What was it?” + +“That you deliberately pushed in between Mrs. Moberly and Dick--and +that that was why she went home so suddenly.” + +Her eyes flashed. + +“How wicked!” + +“Damnable!--Another planter feller picked my man up. He was drunk, but +he knew what he was saying: ‘I’m mighty sorry for you, old man, and if +I were in your place I’d do the same; but if that’s your line of +action you’ve got your work cut out. You’ll have to fight the whole +island!’” + +“He didn’t say that!” + +The D.O. nodded his head slowly. + +“He did, old thing. To the best of my belief, those were his exact +words. Well, there you are, dear. I’ve given you the whole grim story +for what it is worth. I suppose the average man would have rowed you +about it; but I hate rows. It’s too hot, for one thing, and for +another, I’m confident in my own mind that you wouldn’t let me down.” + +The cook-boy appeared at a doorway. + +“_Makan_ is served, _Tuan_,” he announced. + +Battiscombe nodded in his direction to indicate that he had heard. He +turned to find his wife the picture of injured innocence. + +“I thought it was only women who talked scandal,” she declared with a +fine air of contempt. + +The magistrate did not trouble to defend his sex. + +“Well, it isn’t, you see, and under the present circumstances it’s up +to us to face facts. Cut down your visits to _Bukit-Serang_ to, say, +once a month, and blow in occasionally upon some of those faded women +who have possibly had a hand in setting these rumours in motion.” + +She smiled feebly and spread out her hands. + +“Must I?” + +The magistrate patted her shoulder affectionately. + +“It seems a rational sort of thing to do. Lord, Vera, if we could +afford it, I’d clear right out of here.” + +Mrs. Battiscombe started. + +“And that wouldn’t be rational at all. Everyone would think we’d made +things too hot for us and were afraid to stick to our guns.” + +He held his head on one side. + +“I’m not so certain about that. It’d show ’em, at least, that you +didn’t care a rap for Moberly and would leave Borneo with me as +readily as you came.” + +“Would I?” she ventured. + +Battiscombe slipped his arm round her and piloted her gently towards +the living-room, laughing to himself all the while at what he imagined +to be the finest joke he had heard for many a long day. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + The Crimson Butterfly + +He looked up at her from the foot of the steps. + +“Good-bye, little woman. Give my regards to Moberly. Perhaps it’s just +as well you couldn’t come. The Commissioner sent word this morning +that he wanted to see me, and I expect we shall indulge in a long +pow-wow.” + +“Don’t be late,” said Mrs. Battiscombe, perhaps just a little anxious +to know how late her husband would be. + +When considering a question of time, however distant, the magistrate +instinctively sought enlightenment in the dial of his watch. He did so +now. + +“I’m counting on Matthews to fix me up with a trolly. Unless I’m +delayed, it should bring me back by about ten. Cheerio!” + +She watched his great form amble across the clearing and disappear +presently where the path wound between the trees. She returned to her +chair and sat for some moments, her hands clasped in front of her, +gazing into space. Presently she arose and went with quick determined +steps to her room. + +As she regarded herself in the long mirror of the wardrobe Jim +Battiscombe had taken so much trouble to import for her, she found +time to reflect that, after all, there were consolations even for +having married a fool. She had once calculated on there being other +consolations, but these had been speedily modified by the suddenly +revealed meanness of James Battiscombe senior and his only too evident +intention of living to a ripe old age. + +She bit her lip. In spite of the easy way in which he laughed things +off, an inborn instinct told her that doubts were beginning to form in +her husband’s slow-working brain, and these germs, once firmly seated, +had an unpleasant habit of increasing with an alarming rapidity. The +thought made her angry. She had contemplated a pleasant afternoon in +Moberly’s bungalow at Bukit-Serang--and now all those cherished +moments would have to be devoted to a tiresome review of their +respective positions. + +A second survey of her own image in the glass gave her food for +further reflection. + +Drop Dick Moberly! It wasn’t quite such a stupid suggestion after all. +It would have to come to an end sooner or later, and there were times +when his incessant protestations bored her intensely. Vary things a +bit, Jim had suggested. Well, why not? There were still a score of +loopholes for escape from the monotony at Rembakut. Her husband was +agitated solely on account of her visits to the planter, and her +insatiate desire for admiration and conquest swiftly turned her +thoughts in other directions. After all, there were more attractive +men in Borneo than Dick Moberly! + +The picture that her blue eyes were surveying so critically was that +of a slight, slim woman in the early thirties, with all the freshness +of a girl of nineteen, an aureole of light fluffy curls, and pouting +lips that required only the slightest artificial attention to keep +them amazingly red. + +Her riding-breeches of white drill added a certain piquancy to her +appearance of which she was not entirely oblivious, and the broad +white solar topee she affected became her wonderfully. + +Deliriously attractive, daring to the point of recklessness, such was +she whom the adoring Jim Battiscombe persisted in regarding as his +devoted better-half, whom Cranley--who had a gift for apt +expressions--had christened the _vest-pocket adventuress_ and whom the +Commissioner of Police labelled as a _damned dangerous woman_. + +She rode off presently through the cocopalms and took a path which led +through fields of rectagonal pools where vivid green paddy-shoots +thrust their heads timidly above the surface. Great water-buffaloes, +browsing in the open, raised their broad snouts at her approach; ugly, +formidable creatures with lashing tails and a legendary objection to +the white man because of his fondness for soap! But Mrs. Battiscombe +had passed these particular beasts a score of times and grown to +regard them merely as familiar landmarks on the road to Bukit-Serang. + +On the white wooden bridge that spanned the Ayer River she met Dr. +Abu-Samar. + +He was standing at the far end of the bridge, a cigarette between his +lips and his tortoiseshell glasses reflecting the rays of the tropical +sun. As she drew closer, she saw that he was taller and more powerful +in build than her husband had made it appear; his fingers were long +and tapering and his complexion was sallow rather than brown. There +was something strangely compelling about the look with which he +greeted her. It was as if his eyes were gifted with extraordinary +magnetic powers. + +“Good afternoon, Mrs. Battiscombe,” he said, “I have been waiting for +you.” + +The girl reined up her mount and sat looking down at him, an amused +smile at her lips. + +“Waiting for _me_,” she echoed pleasantly. “What exactly do you mean +by that?” + +A memory flashed upon her of her husband’s treatment of the doctor +that morning and she wondered if the man’s presence there were due to +a desire for revenge. + +“You are on your way to see Mr. Moberly of Bukit-Serang,” continued +Samar in the same measured tones. “I am a doctor here, you know, and +Mr. Moberly has an appointment at my house at three. He instructed me +to endeavour to intercept you and escort you there to meet him.” In +some peculiar way he seemed to read the doubts which lay in her mind, +for he added, “If you would rather go on to Mr. Moberly’s bungalow, I +am to tell you that his servant will give you tea and Mr. Moberly will +join you there later.” + +Mrs. Battiscombe was gazing down at the muddy waters of the river. She +looked up suddenly. + +“Very well,” she returned slowly. “I will come.” + +Upon hearing her consent, Dr. Abu-Samar turned abruptly on his heel. + +“If you will permit me, I will go on ahead and show you the way.” + +She touched her pony’s flank with her heel. + +“Is it far?” she asked. + +“About half a mile,” he said over his shoulder. + +The path by which her guide took her was ill-marked, and after the +first two hundred yards or so she was forced to dismount to avoid the +overhanging branches. + +They came presently to a small open space, waist high for the most +part with _lalang_, in which stood a broad, squat house with a +freshly-repaired roof of sago thatch and walls of dried reeds. A +verandah had been added to the original structure and neat wooden +steps, painted white, led up to this. + +At the foot of the steps a native girl with sarong of bottle-green, +and long cigarette between her fingers, lounged idly against a post, +favouring the white woman with a look of insolent curiosity mingled +with something Vera Battiscombe did not altogether understand. + +Abu-Samar waved an eloquent hand. + +“Here is my humble dwelling, Mrs. Battiscombe. Shall I take your +horse? or would you prefer to tether it yourself?” + +He shouted something in a dialect unknown to her and the brown girl, +with a flash of her white teeth, flounced off towards the back of the +house. + +Vera tapped her riding-boots with her stock. + +“Do I go up here?” she inquired. + +“If you please.” + +She found a cane chair and took possession of it without invitation. + +The doctor offered to relieve her of her hat and whip, but she shook +her head. + +“No, thank you. It’s already after three and I don’t suppose Mr. +Moberly will want to stop very long.” + +She accepted a cigarette, however, and lit it from the match he held +towards her. + +He flicked the match airily into space and strode off to the far end +of the verandah, from which he continued to stare at her until she +began to feel profoundly uncomfortable. + +“Have you been here long?” she demanded at length. + +“Not long,” returned Samar briefly. + +At three-fifteen she grew uneasy. + +“You are quite certain Mr. Moberly is coming here this afternoon?” + +He did not answer at once, but came slowly towards her, his head +pushed slightly forward, his eyes never leaving her face. + +“You are a very beautiful woman, Mrs. Battiscombe,” he said suddenly. + +She came quickly to her feet, her face flushed. + +“Answer me,” she commanded, stamping her foot. “Is Mr. Moberly coming +here or not?” + +“_Not_,” confessed Samar with astonishing frankness. “I am afraid that +the whole of my story was nothing less than pure invention, designed +to induce you to do something which you would not otherwise have +consented to do.” + +She stood for some moments aghast, trying vainly to collect her +thoughts. Her eyes followed the encircling line of foliage, +endeavouring to discover some gap wide enough for her to ride through +and outstrip Dr. Samar, should he attempt to follow. + +“Oh!” she ejaculated at length--and made for the stairhead. The doctor +barred her path, a thin hand resting on either post. His disarming +smile exposed a perfect row of white teeth. + +“It would be impossible for you to get away from here unless I desired +you to,” he said; “but it may ease your mind to learn that I have not +the least intention of harming you or of detaining you longer than is +absolutely necessary for my purpose.” + +He smiled again. + +“Very naturally you assumed that I wanted to make you suffer for the +insult your husband put upon me this morning. I can assure you such is +not the case. I am a cultured man, Mrs. Battiscombe, not a savage. +Confess, you don’t in the least mind being here.” + +Mrs. Battiscombe laughed nervously. + +“Not if you play square. I’m in rather a hurry though, really.” + +Samar raised his brows mockingly. + +“To find Mr. Moberly--or return to your husband, who happens to be in +Jesselton?” + +“If you are going to insult me, Dr. Samar----!” + +“I do not wish to. I merely desire to show you that I know everything. +I am a strange man, Mrs. Battiscombe, with an extraordinary +history--and extraordinary powers. The people here regard me as a +magician, a miracle worker. They come to me when they are ill, but +they are afraid of me, all the same. Frankly, I like to inspire fear. +My ancestor was Sidi Samar, an Illanun and a pirate in the days when +the English Rajah first came to Sarawak. Driven back into the interior +by superior forces, he became, by reason of the vast wealth he had +accumulated and the terror he inspired, chief of a tribe of warriors +who existed by murder and rapine. A well-kept secret, handed down from +father to son, made me eventually sole possessor of his fortune. My +desire for knowledge was insatiable. I went to England--the home of +the traditional enemy of my tribe--and added to the mysteries of the +East the scientific knowledge of the West----” + +“Why England?” interrupted Mrs. Battiscombe. “Why go to our country at +all if you dislike our people?” + +Dr. Samar screwed up his eyes. + +“One goes to the bazaar for beautiful fabrics, for jewels, for +wondrous ornaments--not because one has anything in common with those +who sell. From England I went to Germany, Italy, Austria, and even to +America. I have travelled far, you see, always accumulating +knowledge----” + +“And yet you are content to return to Borneo and live in a native hut +with a roof of _ataps_!” + +“I have come back to my home and my people,” said Samar quietly, “to +the island the white races have taken from us, and, if they could but +realise it, so great are my powers that it would pay them to treat me +with respect.” + +She glanced at her watch and held out her hand to him. + +“Well, good-bye, Dr. Samar. I mustn’t really stop a moment longer. +Your story has been so interesting that I feel almost inclined to +forgive you for having lured me here under false pretences.” + +Again that queer light had crept into his eyes. + +“You are going to do more than that, Mrs. Battiscombe,” he assured her +in a voice that had dropped to a whisper. “You are coming here again +and again. At first because I shall call you, and you will be +compelled to come--and later because you will have learnt to prefer my +house to the bungalow of the little planter at Bukit-Serang.” He +caught both her hands and drew her, feebly resisting, to the open +doorway of an inner room. “Come. One look at the magician’s palace and +you will be free to depart.” + +They passed through heavy curtains of orange-coloured silk ornamented +with silver beads and, as these swung to behind them, he released her. +She found herself in a comparatively small apartment furnished with a +strange conglomeration of Moorish, Chinese, and Indian furniture, and +hung with bizarre Oriental draperies. A table inlaid with +mother-of-pearl occupied the centre of the floor, and close to the far +wall reposed an elaborate divan. The atmosphere was permeated with a +sticky, resinous odour which she traced to a heavy bronze jar in a +corner, from which issued a faint wreath of blue smoke. + +Suddenly, as she gazed around her in bewilderment, Doctor Samar threw +open the lid of an enormous cedar-wood box and tossed a jumbled heap +of glittering ornaments on to the table. + +“A little souvenir of your first visit, Mrs. Battiscombe,” he +suggested. “Choose what you will.” + +Victim of a confused host of fears and suspicions, she backed towards +the curtains, her eyes fixed on the glittering pile. + +He lifted the table bodily and held it up to her eyes, but she pushed +it away from her. + +“No, no,” she cried hoarsely. “It is quite impossible. You don’t +understand.…” + +“Very well; then I must choose for you.” + +He selected a pendant in the form of a butterfly, magnificently carved +from a red, transparent substance the colour of ruby, with emerald +eyes and swung from a chain of gold filigree. It was as thin as a +wafer, and, almost before she was aware of it, he had clasped it round +her neck. + +She stared at him with frightened eyes. + +“You mean me to keep this?” + +He folded his arms. + +“The Crimson Butterfly,” he said softly. “A talisman to which native +superstition has attributed strange powers. It is said that the wearer +has but to express a wish--and it will most surely be accomplished.” +He laughed easily. “I warned you that I was a magician, Mrs. +Battiscombe. Even our friend Mr. Moberly would scarcely be able to +provide you with so wonderful a gift--in return for the many favours +you so graciously bestow on him!” + +The events of the afternoon had played the deuce with Vera +Battiscombe’s nerves, and she was on the verge of hysteria. + +Her face dropped suddenly into her hands and, with a wild outburst of +sobbing, she staggered through the curtain into the clearer air of the +verandah. + +“How dare you!--How dare you insult me like this!--That man is nothing +to me--nothing, I tell you!--I wish he were dead!” + +Something made her look up. + +Abu-Samar was standing at a little distance from her, and the stairway +to her pony was within easy reach. + +“One has to be careful what one wishes,” the doctor reminded her, +“when one happens to be the wearer of the Crimson Butterfly!” + +She tore herself from his gaze with an effort, and, running madly down +the steps, untethered her mount with trembling fingers. + +Half an hour later she stumbled upon the white wooden bridge and rode +headlong back to her husband’s bungalow, haunted with the memory of +Abu-Samar’s mocking eyes. + +Her servant’s startled gaze directed at her chest drew her attention +to the butterfly pendant that still hung there, glaringly magnificent +against a white background. + +She shuddered involuntarily and tucked it out of sight. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + Armourer Entertains + +A stretch of powdery sand, bleached white by a relentless Eastern +sun, bordered on three sides by trees through which--to the +eastward--ran a gleaming single track of railway line; a sea of +deepest blue, shimmering in a vast crucible whose rim was the far +horizon, like some strange metallic substance, which bubbled over on +to the sand and on the surface of which a group of tiny islands +clustered together like lumps of jade. + +A sun hanging low in the western heavens, a breathless, sweltering +stillness, broken at intervals by the shrill quarrelling of apes in +the branches and the gentle plashing and sucking-back of a timid tide. + +There were only two living creatures visible in the whole of this +vivid tropical landscape; an Englishman in white drill who sat, pipe +in mouth, on a grassy mound--and a small furry sloth whose brown eyes +surveyed the biped from above with mischievous interest. + +The man on the mound stirred suddenly and stretched himself and the +sloth took instant flight, scurrying for the ample cover lent by the +foliage. + +Michael Armourer cocked his head on one side and listened. + +A distant rumbling sound, accompanied by a discordant shriek, +announced the approach of the afternoon train. + +Battiscombe’s colleague at Jelandang glanced at his watch. + +“She’s late this afternoon,” he said to himself, and tapped out his +pipe on his heel. + +He had almost filled it again from a voluminous oilskin pouch when the +catastrophe occurred. + +The train--a jolting line of white coaches drawn by an obsolete engine +that puffed and snorted asthmatically--emerged from the trees on the +one side at the same time as a trolly--propelled by a group of +perspiring natives--appeared at the other. The trolly carried two +passengers--an elderly gentleman with a short grey beard, who had a +camera fixed on a tripod before him and was turning a handle +vigorously, and a young girl in white. + +Either the engine-driver was short-sighted or his brakes refused to +respond, for before Armourer could reach the spot the natives had +scattered, the man and the girl had fallen off, and the engine was +pushing the trolly before it in the direction of Jesselton. + +Armourer tripped up over the tripod, recovered himself, and bent down +over the girl. She sat up suddenly and rubbed a bruised arm. + +“I hope you’re not hurt?” he inquired with genuine anxiety. + +It dawned upon him at that moment that she was unusually good-looking +and that she was laughing. + +“Oh, no. I’m not in the least bit hurt, thanks. Hadn’t you better have +a look at father?” + +Armourer rose to his full height and peered down into the hollow into +which the only other occupant of the trolly had fallen. + +The old gentleman was scrambling to his feet, muttering a string of +harmless expletives in a particularly definite manner, most of which +appeared to be addressed to the train. + +“Preposterous, I call it! An expensive instrument and a perfect +panorama ruined all through the confounded idiocy of a native driver! +A man like that ought never to be permitted to control an engine +again!” + +Armourer suppressed a sudden desire to laugh. + +“As a matter of fact,” he reminded the stranger, “trollies are +theoretically illegal.” + +The other surveyed him sourly. + +“Who the dickens are you, anyway?” he demanded. + +Armourer smiled. + +“I happen to be the magistrate of this district. My name’s +Armourer--Michael Armourer. I hope you haven’t damaged yourself.” + +The older man placed both hands on his hips, stared at the tail end of +the train--a couple of hundred yards away, where a little group of +natives and Europeans had gathered--at his daughter, and at the +half-frightened coolies who were wandering back into sight again--then +threw out his chest and laughed heartily. + +“Well, Joyce, here’s an adventure for you! You always declared you +wanted one--and now you’ve got it!--Are you hurt?” + +“Oh, dear me, no! I’ve grazed my arm; that’s all.” + +“Splendid! And now, Mr. Armourer, do you mind sending that train of +yours on? I think we’ve had all the publicity we require this +afternoon.” + +“And the trolly?” + +“Of course, I was forgetting that. You might ask those grinning +lunatics to get it off the line until the train has gone, then put it +on again and push it back to Jesselton. I’ll pay ’em when they’re +ready to start.” + +“You’re not going on?” + +The older man shook his head resolutely. + +“I’m not going on one of those ghastly things again--in the interests +of science or anything else. You can make your mind quite easy about +that.” + +“But, father,” protested the girl, “how are we going to get back?” + +He stroked his beard. + +“We shall place ourselves unreservedly in the hands of the local +magistrate. I’m not so certain he oughtn’t to arrest us both in any +case. We appear to have been breaking the law!” + +He crossed the line and picked up his camera. + +“I suppose I ought to tell you, Mr. Armourer, that I’m Professor +Herbert Standen and this is my daughter Joyce. I’m interested in a +good many things, but my pet subject is Poisons. And,” he added, “if I +knew of a suitable one at the moment, I’d cheerfully administer it to +the Director of Railways--or whatever he styles himself--who beat me +at golf yesterday and suggested this infernal trolly-ride!” + +He examined the camera and, setting it down tenderly at his side, +straightened a leg of the collapsible tripod over his knee. Apparently +satisfied that the total damage to his property was small, he cast an +appreciative eye over the landscape. + +“This is certainly a very beautiful spot--very beautiful. What do you +think of it, Joyce?” + +The girl was standing a few paces from them, shading her eyes with her +hand. + +“It’s simply glorious,” she said at length. “I love it.” + +Armourer excused himself and hurried off to stimulate the coolies into +action. He returned in half an hour to find the professor and his +daughter down by the water’s edge. + +“It’s all clear now,” he explained, “and I’ve taken the liberty of +squaring your men for you. I’m afraid I didn’t give them all they had +expected; but it was a good deal more than they deserved. You’d better +come up to my place and see if you think you will be comfortable +enough there.” + +The professor stuck his hands in his pockets and favoured the younger +man with an amused smile. + +“You don’t for one moment suppose I’m going to plant myself and family +on you at a moment’s notice?” + +“I’m afraid it’s Hobson’s choice. You see, there’s only one train up +and one down a day--and that’s the last of any sort until to-morrow +morning.” + +He indicated a faint line of grey smoke that still hung above the +trees. + +Standen looked startled. + +“But, bless my soul, we ought to have taken that, then?” + +“Certainly, if you wanted to get back to-night. But you told me to +send off the trolly and the train and indicated at the same time that +you didn’t desire publicity, so I thought the best thing you could do +was to stop the night at my bungalow.” + +The professor called to Joyce. + +“Do you hear that, my dear? Mr. Armourer says we’ve to put up with +him, as there’s nothing to take us to Jesselton until to-morrow.” + +Joyce gasped and spread out her hands. + +“But I haven’t brought a thing--not even a tooth-brush!” + +Armourer laughed. + +“We can fix you up with that all right,” he assured her. “There’s an +estate shop within a mile of my house. If there’s anything else you +really require, you had better write a little note to Mrs. Battiscombe +at Rembakut--and one of my men will run over before dinner.” + +He picked up the professor’s camera and tripod and crossed the line. + +“Does tea appeal to you at the moment, Miss Standen?” + +The girl nodded enthusiastically. + +“Then follow me. I can promise you a cup in ten minutes.” + +The professor took up the rear, shaking his head at intervals. + +“I’m extremely grateful to you, I’m sure,” he panted, as they reached +the summit of a steep incline, “but I hate putting anybody to an +inconvenience.” + +“You’re not,” the magistrate laughed back at him. “You’re doing me a +great honour. It’s three weeks since I had a visitor of any sort.” + +He extended an arm and pointed to a spot where the shingled roof of a +new bungalow showed amid a veritable forest of growing rubber. + +“That’s Moberly’s place. He’s the manager of the estate I told you +about when we were discussing tooth-brushes. It’s one of the best +bungalows out here.” + +“It looks simply topping,” commented Joyce, who was by this time +thoroughly reconciled to the prospect of a night spent without her +luggage and secretly exultant that the accident had put an end to what +had promised to be a dull and uninteresting afternoon. + +“His rubber looks well,” said Standen. “There’s been a lot of good +work put in there.” + +“Oh, he’s thorough,” agreed the magistrate. “That dreary-looking +atrocity right ahead of us is my shack.” + +Joyce looked. + +“It seems quite a big place.” + +“Oh, it’s not the size I complain of. As a matter of fact it suits me +pretty well, but when visitors come along its many defects have a +habit of becoming apparent. However, you’ll see what it’s like for +yourselves.” + +As they crossed the wide stretch of grassland in which the building +lay, a couple of terriers bounded down the steps and came scurrying to +meet them. + +It was somewhere between tea and dinner that Armourer, returning from +an excursion to Moberly’s estate shop, found Joyce alone on the +verandah. + +He dropped quite a fair-sized parcel into her lap. + +“Well, there’s your tooth-brush,” he said. + +She wrinkled her forehead. + +“But this isn’t all tooth-brush!” + +“No,” admitted the magistrate, “it’s not; but it all comes under the +category of toilet requisites--except the chocolates--and they’re +supposed to be bad for teeth! Where’s the professor?” + +She shook her head. + +“I haven’t the least idea. He’s wandered out somewhere.” + +Armourer scanned the landscape. + +“Does he often do this?” he inquired. + +“Oh yes; more often than not, in fact.” + +“What a singularly convenient sort of parent!” + +Her dark eyes met his and they were full of merriment. + +“It’s not always convenient, you know, to be left like this. Father’s +quite capable of dumping me anywhere--and forgetting where he’s put +me, just like he does with his umbrella.” + +“But he _will_ come back, of course?” inquired Armourer with mock +anxiety. + +“Of course. Don’t you want him to?” + +He sat down opposite her and, clasping his hands over one knee, he +appeared to be thinking deeply. + +“My proper answer would be--yes, most certainly; but what I really +want to say is that, if I am to be employed as a left-luggage office +by absent-minded professors of poisons--er--well, it occurs to me that +you’re rather the sort of baggage I should like to be left behind and +never claimed! Now, that was really clever; wasn’t it? Do look at that +sunset! It’s the only decent thing about here I’ve got to show you.” + +She sprang to her feet and ran to the rail. Armourer stood close +behind her, and for a matter of seconds an exceedingly beautiful +brunette and a particularly good-looking young man remained in close +proximity, the last eerie rays of a departing sun bathing them in an +unearthly pallor. + +The glory of the heavens--now that the sun had gone--left her +breathless and trembling. + +She looked up at him. + +“I have never seen anything like it,” she murmured. “Isn’t it just +wonderful?” + +“By Jove, it is,” averred Armourer; but he was looking at her, and for +him the glories of the Eastern sunset were forgotten. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + Dance at Rembakut + +It was towards nine o’clock when Vera Battiscombe, immersed in the +contents of a paper-covered volume, heard a horseman come flying +across the night-shrouded clearing and slither to a standstill +immediately under the verandah. + +She glanced up sharply, wondering if it could be Dick Moberly, anxious +to discover what had prevented her paying her intended visit. + +A cheery voice from the blackness swiftly disillusioned her. + +“Hello, there! Anybody alive?” + +She went to the rail. + +“Is that you, Mr. Armourer? Yes, I’m very much alive, thanks; but +Jim’s in Jesselton. Won’t you come up?” + +He handed his pony over to one of Battiscombe’s men and came up the +steps three at a time. + +Michael Armourer was one of the few men with whom she had never been +able to make headway, and probably for that reason more than any other +she unconsciously sharpened every weapon in her armoury at his +approach. He was handsome, broad-shouldered and essentially virile, +but invariably left her with the impression that he liked her very +much and found her excellent company, but that, according to his +notions on life, the fact that she was Jim Battiscombe’s lawful wife +presented an impenetrable barrier to anything that savoured of +intimacy. + +He came into the radius of the lamplight and extended a large hand. + +“How are you, Mrs. Battiscombe. Sorry Jim’s away. I should like to +have seen him. As a matter of fact I’ve come over on rather a delicate +mission. I was going to dispatch an orderly on the job, but got it +into my head he might muck it up. I should never have forgiven myself +if he’d rolled up with a pair of Jim’s pyjamas instead of a +_nightie_!” + +Vera wagged an admonishing finger. + +“I know what it is, Mr. Armourer; you’ve been drinking.” + +The magistrate shook his head. + +“Not unduly. I did open a bottle of _bubbly_ for the professor, but he +mopped up most of it himself.” + +“Then what on earth are you talking about?” + +“This,” said Armourer, and thrust a sealed envelope into her hand. +“I’ve visitors at my place. They got tied up in a trolly accident and +hadn’t brought any _barang_. I managed to fix up the old man; but the +lady presented difficulties. I haven’t the remotest idea what’s in +that note, and I am given to understand that the parcel is to be duly +secured and sealed before it’s handed over to me.” + +Mrs. Battiscombe perused the contents of the letter with an amused +smile. + +“Shall I read it out to you?” + +He retreated across the floor, waving his hands in front of him. + +“Heaven forbid! Have pity on my youth and innocence, please!” + +Vera laughed. + +“But, my dear man, what on earth could a woman require for a single +night that an average man shouldn’t hear about?” + +“I don’t know,” returned Armourer, “I haven’t even bothered to think. +In any case, I don’t suppose it amounts to anything much, but the fact +that I am conveying the confounded paraphernalia from one woman +acquaintance to another makes me prefer to remain in a state of +blissful ignorance.” + +She flashed a sidelong glance at him. + +“Is she pretty?” + +Armourer pretended to reflect on a subject upon which he had long made +up his mind. + +“As a matter of fact, I suppose she is.” + +“Fair or dark?” + +“Dark, I suppose you’d say.” + +“Well, she must be one or the other, mustn’t she?” + +“Certainly--unless she happens to be something in between.” He bent +forward earnestly. “Does your husband allow people to drink on his +verandah when he’s away? I mean when people happen to have ridden +rather a long way and swallowed a fair amount of dust?” + +“My poor man. I’m so sorry!” + +She touched the bell. + +“Hoon-Kit,” she said to the servant who shuffled in, “the _Tuan-Hakim_ +of Jelandang is thirsty. Bring in the decanter and a glass.” + +“Why not in the plural?” demanded Armourer. + +Vera smiled. + +“Because I don’t care for whisky--and my husband doesn’t like me to +drink with strange men--even if they have ridden a long way and +swallowed a lot of dust!” + +She accompanied the latter half of the remark with a grimace. + +Armourer looked at the ceiling. + +“It really is refreshing,” he retorted, “to discover a woman who is +actuated solely by her husband’s desires. Er--does Jim know about +this?” + +“I don’t think I altogether like you,” declared Mrs. Battiscombe. + +The _boy_ brought in the decanter and Armourer helped himself. + +“Did Jim go down by the train?” he asked suddenly. + +Vera nodded. + +“Then the Lord only knows what time he arrived in town. She was an +hour and a half behind time when she passed my place.” + +“You don’t mean that?” + +“I’m afraid I do. That seems to indicate he’ll be late back.” + +She shuddered. + +“I loathe sitting up here all alone,” she said. “Isn’t it just too +annoying! I haven’t spoken to a soul except Hoon-Kit since tea. Be a +Christian and sit down and talk for a bit.” + +He shook his head. + +“Sorry, Mrs. Battiscombe, but I’ve got to get back to my guests. +Besides, you’re forgetting the parcel!” + +She came right up to him, putting every ounce of pleading she knew how +into her eyes. + +“Half an hour!” + +He picked up his hat. + +“Can’t be done. You see, Miss Standen’s probably tired and waiting for +her kit, and----” + +“You’re just itching to get back to her!” she concluded for him. + +He held his glass to the light. + +He was in a queer mood that night, a state of mind that had obsessed +him ever since that look he had exchanged in the brief twilight with a +girl he had known but a handful of minutes. The thought flashed across +him that the professor and his daughter were only awaiting his return +to go to bed and that, even if they stopped up with him for a while, +it was highly improbable that Joyce and he would be permitted to +remain alone for a second time. And here was a superlatively +attractive woman begging him to perform a common act of charity. + +“All right,” he said; “I’ll stop. One of Jim’s men can take the +stuff.” + +“It’s awfully good of you. Just a minute and I’ll get the things. Do +you want to send any message?” + +Armourer rubbed his chin. + +“Better tell the professor I’m delayed here on business, but hope to +be across in an hour or so. He needn’t trouble to wait up unless he +wants to. Shall I write it down?” + +“Oh, no. I’ll see that Corporal Kuraman sends somebody with +intelligence.” + +As she passed the long mirror she looked into it and smiled. + +She found Armourer presently, leaning over the rail, smoking. + +“Give me a cigarette, please.” + +He held out his case. + +“What are we going to do?” he inquired. + +“What do you want to do?” + +She insisted on lighting her cigarette from the glowing end of his +cigar, a process that brought them into such close proximity that he +found it embarrassing. + +He had always pretended to himself that he despised Mrs. Battiscombe +for the flagrancy with which she conducted her amours, but, under +present conditions, he caught himself in the act of reconsidering this +opinion. It was only a step from this to tacitly admit that Jimmie +Battiscombe was rather a stodgy companion for an endless succession of +breakfasts, dinners and teas, and it was scarcely to be wondered at if +a girl with some _go_ in her should seek to relieve the tedium of +tropical loneliness with an occasional flirtation. + +Vera had somehow succeeded in infusing into his veins a pleasurable +feeling of comfort and self-satisfaction, combined with a dash of +recklessness. + +“I don’t know,” he laughed. “What is there to do?” + +She possessed herself of an arm and led him towards the gramophone. + +“Let’s dance. Let’s pretend we’re in a really smart restaurant in a +really big town and that we’ve had a really nice dinner!” + +Armourer grinned. + +“Anything else?” + +“And that you’re dancing with a really nice girl--that you really +like!” + +He fell into the trap. + +“I shan’t need to pretend that,” he said. + +She pounced on this first rash admission and used it for all she was +worth. + +“Won’t you?” + +He hedged. + +“Won’t I what?” + +“You know what you said.” + +“What did I say?” + +“_I_ haven’t forgotten,” said Mrs. Battiscombe, contriving to blush. + +She delved into a pile of discs. + +“Let’s have a fox-trot. _Eastern Stars_ is good.” + +She poised the needle carefully on the record, gave it a little +sideways tap with her finger and closed the lid. + +For the first time he noticed her frock. It was a greeny-blue clinging +affair, and it dawned on him that she had slipped it on while making +up the parcel for Joyce. + +As she stood there, waiting for him to take her, the devilry of all +the witches of mythology danced in her eyes. + +“Are you ready?” she whispered. + +He passed a moist hand over his forehead. + +“I suppose so,” he stammered, and awoke to discover that they were +dancing. + +From that moment his enthusiasm grew until they raced back to the +machine at the conclusion of each tune and the records overflowed on +to the table and the floor as they were played and discarded. + +A sudden thought made him glance at his watch. They were in the middle +of a one-step, and she held his wrist, trying to stop him looking. He +succeeded at length and his face fell. + +“What is it?” she asked. + +“Quarter past eleven.” + +“It can’t be.” + +“It is, by Jove!” + +He held it so that she could see for herself. + +“Just one more,” she pleaded. + +He hesitated. + +“Right-ho! The very last, mind.” + +They ran to the gramophone and his fingers sought the handle a second +only after hers. In the excitement of the moment he allowed them to +remain longer than he had intended. + +“Michael!” + +He was aware of the sensation of something cold trickling down his +spine. He turned to find her upturned face so close to him that he +felt her warm breath on his cheeks. Those lips of hers were the very +devil! + +He hadn’t the remotest idea why he did it. Never in his wildest +imaginings had he ever intended to supplant Dick Moberly. He could +have sworn that, without any effort on his part, those lips came +closer--until they touched his.… + +A voice came from the stairway: + +“Hello, you two! What on earth are you up to?” + +Armourer brought his head up with a jerk and turned awkwardly to greet +James Battiscombe. + +Vera was coolness itself. + +“Hullo, Jim! Back at last? I didn’t go over to Bukit-Serang after all. +I just stopped here on my own, until Mr. Armourer rode over for some +clothes for a girl who’d got stranded with her father. He told me the +train was late and I made him stop. We’ve been dancing.” + +Her husband stood in the centre of the floor, his topee at the back of +his head, swinging his monocle on its string. + +“So I see,” he remarked, in a tone that was entirely new to her. He +nodded to Armourer. + +“Well, Michael! Playing the good Samaritan?” + +The younger man felt uncomfortable. + +“I had to decide,” he managed to say, “between my unexpected guests +and Mrs. Battiscombe.” + +“You had no difficulty, I take it, in coming to a decision?” + +Vera frowned. + +“I persuaded him to stay.” + +He thrust his hands in his pockets and looked at her. + +“I’ll wager you did! Well, good-night, Michael. I’ll try and drop over +and see you one of these days. I hope you’re not too tired, Vera, +because I’ve quite a lot I want to say to you.” + + + + + CHAPTER V. + Battiscombe Asserts Himself + +“Jim!” + +“Well?” + +She came closer. + +“Why were you so rude to Mr. Armourer?” + +A suggestion of the old weakness of character crept into his face. He +remained for some moments blinking into her eyes as a man trying to +accustom his gaze to the light. Presently his features hardened and he +regarded her squarely. + +“Look here, Vera, how much longer is this sort of thing to go on? Do +you expect me to be polite to these--harmless acquaintances of yours +for an eternity?” + +She flushed angrily. + +“I don’t understand you. What in the name of goodness are you driving +at?” + +He brought his fist heavily down on to the table and the glass +Armourer had used rolled off and broke on the floor. + +“You know very well what I’m talking about. Don’t beat about the bush. +Answer me!” + +Completely bewildered, she racked her brain for some clue to the +solution of her husband’s changed attitude. Jumping at the most +obvious conclusion, she repeated the suggestion she had made earlier +in the evening to Michael. + +“You’ve been drinking.” + +He nodded bitterly. + +“Oh, yes,” he retorted, “I’ve been drinking all right. I dropped in at +Vance’s place and had a couple on the way up. I’ve been treated to a +considerable amount of undiluted hell on your account this +evening--and I felt I was in need of something to steady myself. I can +put up with a lot--more than most men, I fancy--but there are some +things I can’t stand.” + +“Such as----?” + +“Such as discovering my own wife kissing one of my colleagues on the +verandah of my own house!” + +She was trembling with fury now, her fingers clenching and unclenching +themselves at her sides. + +“That’s not true; you know it’s not true!” + +“I wish to heaven it weren’t; but, for the first time in all this +miserable business, I have the evidence of my own eyes. Good Lord, +Vera, haven’t you some sense of decency? Leaving me out of the +question altogether, aren’t there sufficient scoundrels on the island +without you wanting to seduce a decent boy like Armourer?” + +She made a sudden movement towards her room. + +“If you’ve nothing but these vile accusations to level at me, I’m +going to bed.” + +He stepped between her and the door. + +“Listen to me,” he said sternly, “you’re not going to leave this +verandah until you’ve heard everything I’ve got to say.” + +She tried to push past him, but he caught her by both arms and forced +her into a chair. + +She sprang out of it again, her cheeks very white, her eyes blazing. + +“How dare you treat me like that! How dare you bully me!” Her lower +lip quivered and she buried her face in her hands. She collapsed in +the chair again, seeking refuge in tears. “You--hurt--me.” + +He stood irresolutely over her, his features twitching. He was feeling +uncommonly miserable, and, had she sought to retreat at that moment, +he could not have mustered courage to detain her. A weak impulse +prompted him to take her in his arms and comfort her, but that final +scene between Armourer and his wife still rankled, and he choked it +down. + +Remembering something, he dived a hand into a side-pocket and threw a +bulky packet into her lap. + +She glanced at it through her fingers, but did not move. + +“You will find some of your own letters there,” he told her hoarsely, +“letters from Moberly to his wife suggesting a divorce and letters +from Mrs. Moberly to the Governor. I am counting on you to explain why +Moberly should have imagined his wife had grounds for obtaining a +divorce.” + +She gulped down something, withdrew her fingers slowly and turned a +tear-stained face up to him. + +“Where did you get these?” she asked dully. + +He sat on the edge of the table and folded his arms. + +“Mrs. Moberly has been in correspondence with the Governor for some +time. She has known Sir Henry for a good many years. I am given to +understand that he doesn’t desire to pose in any way as a censor of +morals, but that, wishing to put an end to what he regarded as a +highly undesirable state of affairs, he forwarded these letters to the +Commissioner.” + +Her fingers fidgeted with the tape that bound the bundle. + +“That was why he wanted to see you?” + +“Yes.” + +She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. + +“And you believe all these--horrible fabrications?” + +He clasped his hands between his knees and swayed uncomfortably to and +fro. + +“What else am I to believe? You say you didn’t go to Bukit-Serang this +afternoon?” + +“No.” + +“Why not? If you are going to tell me it was out of any sense of +decent feeling for me, I’m afraid I can’t believe it.” + +She was dangerously near tears again. + +“Jim, why are you such a beast to me?” + +“Why are you such a beast to _me_?” + +“I’m not,” she sobbed. “I’ve just tried to amuse myself; that’s all. I +did kiss Michael Armourer. I made him kiss me. You don’t suppose I did +that because I cared about him? Men are such fools!” + +“I’m just beginning to realise it,” said Battiscombe. “I’m not in the +least bit blind to the fact that you’ve fooled _me_.” + +She shook her head sadly. + +“You’ll never understand me, Jim. You’ve brought me out to the East +and you expect me to behave with all the absurd decorum of the +suburbs. Spices, tropical sunshine--and colour! If you want to blame +anything, you must blame the surroundings, the climate and the +unutterable loneliness. You’ve had your work; I’ve had nothing to do +but to bask in the sunshine and absorb! It’s got into my veins--this +Borneo of yours. I’ve caught the spirit of the place and, to all +intents and purposes, I’m a headhunter. I delight in these little +conquests. Armourer was a real conquest, Jim, because in his heart of +hearts he despised me--and he despises me still. Oh, I know I’ve +sinned. In that respect I’ve sinned terribly. I’ve ridden back, +flushed with excitement at my wrong-doing, like a naughty child +expecting to be smacked; but you’ve never smacked me, Jim. You’ve just +sat there, fat, contented, blind… until I could have shrieked at +you--‘Dick Moberly’s kissed me; do you hear? What are you going to do +about it?’ You’re lucky that that’s all that has happened; but it is +all!” + +He glanced down at his hands. + +“Do you swear that?” he demanded presently in a low voice. + +She rose with a sudden movement and leaned against him, smoothing the +lapels of his jacket between finger and thumb. She looked up at him, +her blue eyes that seemed so honest brimming over with mute +appeal--and Jim Battiscombe succumbed. + +He crushed her to him--this beautiful penitent, swathed in the vampire +frock she had selected to overwhelm Michael, and she was far too +clever to complain of his roughness then. + +“I’ve been a little rotter to you, Jim,” she whispered. “You must be +firm with me in future--ever so firm; do you understand?” + +Her husband nodded. He was so utterly overcome, so profoundly +optimistic that their married life had found its second wind, that he +forgot she had evaded his question. + +“Poor little woman!” he murmured presently. “I’m afraid I’ve been very +much to blame.” He caught sight of the pile of letters in their +binding of official tape that had fallen to the floor as she rose. +“We’ll burn those damned letters--every blessed one of ’em. Anyhow,” +he added fiercely, “this affair’s shown up Moberly in his true +colours. You won’t want to see him again.” + +“Never,” she agreed with almost unnecessary emphasis. Moberly’s +indiscretion had led her into uncommonly deep waters--and she was not +likely to forget it in a hurry. This would be a lesson to her for all +time, and she would take care Michael Armourer did not commit a +similar error. Besides, she remembered, Armourer was unmarried. + +“I suppose he’s given you presents?--brooches and things?” + +She started. + +“You want me to send them back?” + +“Rather!--every one!” + +“Very well, I will. I’ll make them up into a parcel the first thing in +the morning.” + +Battiscombe rubbed his hands together. + +“We’ll do it now and wash our hands of the whole affair.” + +He observed her tenderly. + +“You’re a wonderful little woman, Vera. I don’t wonder fellows fall +head over ears in love with you the minute they see you.” + +She was still nestling in his arms and there was a gap between her +frock and her neck. + +“Hullo!” he exclaimed, “what’s this?” + +His glance had fallen on the chain of gold filigree, and before she +could prevent him he had drawn the Crimson Butterfly from its +hiding-place into the lamp-light. “I’ve never seen this before.” + +He groped for the fastening with his great fingers. + +A moment later he held the pendant in his palm and Vera stood a little +away from him cudgelling her fertile brain for some excuse to account +for its presence there. + +As he pawed it wonderingly, struck momentarily dumb by the sheer +beauty of the thing, a queer feeling stole over him. He could have +sworn that he was handling something unutterably unclean. + +He looked up sharply. + +“Did he give you this, too?” + +Mrs. Battiscombe hesitated. She was on the point of explaining how +Abu-Samar had stopped her, induced her to go to his house and forced +her to accept the gift, when she realised the difficulties besetting +any such confession. She had already told him that she had refrained +from embarking upon her proposed expedition to inspect Moberly’s +newly-erected clubhouse. She would have to correct that statement, +which would be a remarkably bad beginning to a rather improbable +story. Jim had doubted her once that night, and, having put these +doubts to flight, it would be a pity to risk arousing them again. + +“Er--yes. It’s pretty, isn’t it?” + +He dropped it on the table. + +“Extraordinarily so. Wonder where he got it?” + +She gave the faintest shrug to her shoulders. + +“In some bazaar in Colombo or Singapore, I fancy. He did tell me.” + +Battiscombe slid from his perch, and, foraging for some moments in a +cupboard, unearthed a sheet of brown paper. He spread it out and +placed the pendant on it. + +“That’ll make a good start, anyway. Trot out all the other little +tokens of affection, dear, and we’ll get this job off our chests.” + +She sighed deeply. + +“Must we do it to-night? I’m so tired.” + +For once he was firm. + +“Absolutely. It won’t take you a moment.” + +She went to her room. + +Five minutes later he carried off a little oblong parcel to the back +of the house. He came back smiling. + +“And that’s the end of Mr. Richard Moberly! I’ve given it to Kuraman, +and our worthy planter will find it when he comes on to the verandah +for an early breakfast. It’ll help him to start the day well!” + +She surveyed him doubtfully. + +“Oughtn’t I to have written?” + +He shook his head. + +“In future, whenever the necessity arises for anyone to write to Dick +Moberly, it’s going to be your lawful husband!” + +She was arranging her hair in front of the glass when Jim’s head and +shoulders came round the door. + +“I say, Vera!” + +“Yes?” she responded through a mouthful of pins. + +“I didn’t tell you, did I? The Commissioner’s instructed me to watch +that black feller closely.” + +She looked round. + +“Black fellow?” + +“Why, yes; the chap who styles himself Dr. Abu-Samar. I happened to +mention our little encounter this morning and he got quite excited. As +far as I can make out, Samar’s not a doctor at all. He’s a +revolutionary of a most dangerous type and has already given trouble +in Sarawak. He’s believed to get a hold over the natives by sheer +hypnotism. He can make ’em believe anything. Well, good night, little +woman. Sleep well.” + +The door closed softly. + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + The Magic of Abu-Samar + +That night Vera Battiscombe dreamed a peculiar dream; peculiar +because she rarely dreamed at all, and doubly peculiar because she had +no memory of ever falling off to sleep or, in fact, waking after it. + +She had been lying, her hands clasped behind her head, staring up at +the oblong patch of white cotton from which the mosquito-curtains were +suspended, thinking over the events of the past twenty-four hours. It +had been an eventful day, in all conscience, she reflected, and +allowed the principal characters in a drama for which she herself had +been primarily responsible to pass before her eyes in quick +succession. Abu-Samar, Armourer, Jim--posing so ridiculously as the +injured husband and coming conveniently into line in the end--and the +sacrificed Dick Moberly, deservedly sacrificed at the altar of his own +indiscretions. + +She wondered idly what the planter would say when he discovered the +Crimson Butterfly in the parcel--whether he would return it +immediately or keep it until he had found an opportunity of seeing her +and demanding an explanation. The thought of the Butterfly brought her +back to Dr. Samar. If what the Commissioner had told her husband were +true, the fact that he had merely induced her to accompany him to his +house and frightened her was all the more to be wondered at. It +flashed across her mind that his rather unusual conduct was not +without its motive, but what that motive was she could not for the +life of her discover. + +A sense of uneasiness crept over her. + +It was quiet outside, and the house was unusually still. The perpetual +droning of insects, the shrill whine of a mosquito seeking some flaw +in the netting, the deep, rhythmic snoring of her husband in the +adjoining room--all these familiar sounds seemed to be receding into +the distance. + +Suddenly a fierce gust of hot wind blew in through an open window, and +the little lamp by her bed flickered and went out. She knew the wind +was hot, for it fanned her cheek, and yet, by every known law, the +breeze at that early hour of the morning should have been cool. The +dog on the verandah gave a peculiar yelp and moved restlessly on the +cane chair upon which it invariably reposed.… + +She shut her eyes resolutely and turned over on to her side and a +queer noise broke upon her ears like the rushing of waters. There was +a dry sensation in her mouth and the heat was becoming unbearable. She +sat up, intending to reach for the quinine, firmly convinced by this +time that she was in for a dose of fever. Her eyes hurt her, and, even +before she raised the lids, she was conscious of a bright red light. + +Groping for the bottle, she discovered that the mosquito-curtains had +disappeared. She opened her eyes wide and, at the sight that met her +gaze, endeavoured to scream; but no sound came. + +It was as if, by some extraordinary miracle, everything with which she +was familiar had been spirited away. The four walls within which she +had lain secure--the roof even--had vanished. + +She found herself reclining upon a divan of orange-coloured silk, with +the great stars blinking down at her from a violet dome, and in the +red light from a tall brazier at the foot of her couch a myriad of +winged creatures fluttered. By the base of the brazier a native girl +lay asleep. + +Gradually, as her frightened eyes accustomed themselves to the outer +gloom, she discerned the vague outlines of rocky crags and the more +distant tips of tall trees. + +She dropped back on to her elbows and her voice returned to her. + +She called to the girl in Malay, and the brown form stirred. Her face +came round and Mrs. Battiscombe recognised the girl she had seen at +Samar’s bungalow. + +“Goddess of the Crimson Butterfly, I hear!” + +She uttered a little cry and clutched at her breast. Her fingers +closed over the pendant that Battiscombe had insisted on sending to +Moberly. + +It was then that she saw that she herself wore a _sarong_--a sheath of +shiny black powdered with gold that swathed her from her breasts to +just below her knees--and that her arms, her neck and her ankles were +hung with treasures that resembled those which Abu-Samar had produced +from his cedar-wood coffer. + +“Where am I?” she asked faintly. + +“In your temple, O goddess!” returned the brown girl, and threw +something into the brazier which sent its flames flaring to the +heavens. + +Mrs. Battiscombe sat bolt upright and beckoned. + +“Come here,” she said. “I want you to tell me why I am here and who +brought me.” + +Brown eyes surveyed her strangely, incredulously. + +“The goddess remembers nothing?” + +Vera shook her head. + +“Nothing; nothing at all. I was in bed at my husband’s house--and the +wind came…” + +The girl drew closer and stood presently, with her arms folded, +looking down at the white woman. + +“Great goddess,” she said, “I am Dara--and I obey. Once, before the +white man came in his ships across the black waters, there was a white +goddess in the temple of the Crimson Butterfly--so wonderful in her +loveliness that all men who beheld her desired to possess her. She +wore the emblem of the Sacred Butterfly at her throat and no man dared +draw near to her because of it. After a little while, a strange man +came who had not heard that the kiss of the goddess was death--and so +died. There came another and yet another, each sharing the same fate, +until the goddess, wearying of chiefs’ sons, sought to entrap the Sun. +Upon a certain night, the Sun dropped not into the western sea, but +fell into the temple of the Crimson Butterfly--and for many moons +there was nothing but darkness. The Butterfly--whose life was the +Sun--feared to destroy it, and when at last the Sun rose again it was +seen that the goddess, too, had departed. Nevertheless, it was written +that in a thousand moons she would return again to her people. +To-night the prophecy is fulfilled; the fires of the temple burn once +more and there is again a goddess at the shrine of the Crimson +Butterfly.” + +Vera Battiscombe moistened her lips. + +“And how do you know I am the real goddess?--I might be an impostor.” + +The girl shook her head. + +“Those who sought you found the symbol at your throat.” + +She pointed to the butterfly pendant. + +Vera moved impatiently. + +“But that’s perfectly ridiculous,” she insisted. “I had never set eyes +upon the Crimson Butterfly until this afternoon. Dr. Abu-Samar made me +take it.” + +And still the brown girl shook her head obstinately. + +“The prophecy is fulfilled!” + +Mrs. Battiscombe sprang from the divan and shook her violently. + +“Listen,” she screamed. “This is all a trick, an act of vengeance +because my husband unfortunately insulted Dr. Samar when he came to +him yesterday. I am an Englishwoman. I was born in England. I should +never have come to this wretched island if I hadn’t married. Get me my +proper clothes and take me back.” + +She threw the girl from her and looked up into the evil eyes of Dr. +Abu-Samar. + +Instinctively aware of the scantiness of her attire, she shrank back +from him. + +“Goddess of the Crimson Butterfly,” he taunted her, “I have summoned +you--and you have come. The dog is still sleeping, the little soldiers +in the round hats have not stirred. To Abu-Samar those things are as +nothing. You have sent my gift away, but it will come back to you; it +will always come back--and the kiss of the goddess is death!” + +She clapped her hands over her ears to shut out the sound of his voice +and, turning on her heel, ran heedlessly into the darkness. The night +air was cold and moist, and suddenly she realised that she was +standing on the soft earth at the foot of the long flight of steps +that led up to the bungalow. + +It was almost light now and the feathery tops of the palm trees showed +like phantom creations above a sea of billowy mist. + +She was about to seize the wooden rail and commence the ascent when +she discovered that her hands were full. She was staring with startled +eyes upon a brown-paper packet that had somehow become broken open and +from which protruded the Crimson Butterfly. + +The sound of quick footsteps above made her thrust the packet into the +pocket of the pyjama jacket she wore. + +James Battiscombe, his face very white, his hair on end, peered down +at her. + +“Vera! Where on earth have you been? You gave me the shock of my +life.” + +He hurried down the steps and carried her up. + +A minute later she was in a long chair, with a blanket wrapped round +her, making faces at the brandy he insisted on forcing between her +lips. + +“I thought I heard you moving and went into your room,” he explained, +tapping the cork back into the bottle. “You weren’t there. I didn’t +know what to think. It occurred to me that, after the row we had last +night, you’d got snorky and bolted.” He rested his hands on his hips +and beamed down at her. “You don’t usually walk in your sleep, do +you?” + +“No,” she assented weakly, “I don’t think I’ve ever done it before.” + +And then, an irresistible drowsiness stealing over her, she fell +asleep. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + A Strange Insect + +Mrs. Battiscombe blinked and looked up. + +She was still lying in the long chair on the verandah and the blue +sun-blinds had been drawn. There filtered up to her through the +morning air the chattering of natives, the contented clucking of hens, +the ring of an axe in the forest. + +Still in a state of semi-coma, she dimly realised that Jim, with his +accustomed thoughtfulness, had drawn the table to her side, so that +the bell which would summon Hoon-Kit was within easy reach. + +She yawned and was about to turn over and continue her slumbers when +her arm touched the pocket of her pyjama-coat. A guilty feeling stole +over her and she forced herself into a sitting position. With +trembling fingers she fumbled for the contents, hoping to discover +that the bulging contour of the pocket was due to an accumulation of +handkerchiefs, to a bottle of quinine tabloids placed there by +accident, to anything rather than the packet she imagined she had +removed from the custody of Battiscombe’s men in her sleep. + +Her worst suspicions were justified. The parcel which should have gone +to Moberly at dawn was still there. + +She held it at arm’s length, and, as she did so the ghastly details of +her nightmare built themselves up in her imagination with a vividness +that set her trembling. It had not all been a dream, could not have +been, for here was a portion of it--glaringly concrete--within her +fingers. She was weary, too, thoroughly exhausted, as if she had +undergone some stupendous fatigue. Her head throbbed, her eyes felt +sore and watered in the light, and she was conscious of a dull aching +from head to foot. How much, her reeling brain demanded, had been +real--and how much illusion? + +Her watch had stopped. Still holding the blanket round her, she crept +to the living-room door and saw, by the clock that hung on the wall, +that it was ten minutes past eleven. + +Jim would be coming from the court-house at noon. + +She unearthed a fresh sheet of paper and made the parcel up again. A +strong impulse assailed her to withdraw the butterfly pendant and +dispose of it in some manner when her husband was away, but she fought +it down. The thing frightened her. She must get it out of the house or +she would go mad. + +In the seclusion of her own room she scrambled into some clothes and +penned a hasty note to Dick. + + + “My Dear, + + “Jim has come to his senses at last and, for a time at least, we must + put an end to everything. Keep everything you find here. Some day I + hope to be able to see you and explain.--Vera.” + + +She was about to fold it when force of habit made her add her +inevitable postscript. + + + “An awful scene last night; it made me dream. Rotten, isn’t it?--V.” + + +She pushed it between the folds of the brown paper and rang the bell. + +In her excited frame of mind, it seemed an eternity before Hoon-Kit +shuffled to the door and knocked. + +“Give this to one of the _Tuan-Hakim’s_ men and tell him to take it +immediately to the _Tuan_ Moberly’s house. It is the parcel that +should have gone earlier this morning. He need say nothing to the +_Tuan-Hakim_. _Tahu_?” + +The man grinned and withdrew. + +In five minutes he was back again. + +He found his mistress fully dressed, standing at the open door that +led to the verandah. + +“The man has gone,” he reported. + +She heaved a deep sigh of relief. + +“Very well.” She produced a silver dollar and held it out to him. +“Give this to the soldier when he returns.” + +The coin passed into the doubtful security of a pocket of a pair of +Battiscombe’s discarded trousers. + +“The man was very glad,” resumed Hoon-Kit, looking down at his feet. +“The _Tuan-Hakim_ gave him the packet last night--and this morning he +could not find it. He feared that the _Tuan_ would be angry.” + +“_Baik-lah_, Hoon-Kit,” and she dismissed him. + +She remained, a hand on either door-post, staring through the opening +between the blinds. The colour had come back to her cheeks and there +was a triumphant light in her eyes. + +Things had turned out better than she had dared to expect. Moberly’s +presents had gone back to him, there was no danger he would return the +Crimson Butterfly, and Jim would never know the parcel had been +delayed. + +She started violently. Through that opening at the head of the stairs +where the sun threw a rectangle of yellow light across the boarded +floor there fluttered an enormous crimson butterfly. It encircled for +a moment in the sunlight, beat against the blinds, then settled on the +table by her chair. + +She stood there, rooted to the spot, her eyes drawn to it by a strange +fascination. + +The insect was formed like a butterfly and yet the familiar delicacy +of the wings was absent. It appeared to her as a coarse, unlovely +creature, with a corrugated surface like a rubber sponge, the +countless pores of which seemed to open and close as she looked. Had +she encountered it in the jungle, settling on the bark of a +forest-monarch, she would probably have mistaken it for a poisonous +fungus. + +It swooped into the air again and flew straight toward her. + +She uttered a wild scream and Hoon-Kit, who had been laying the table +for the mid-day meal, hurried on to the verandah. + +“The _mem_ is ill?” he inquired blankly. + +She waved her arms frantically. + +“Drive it away,” she cried. “Quickly!--that cushion!--anything!--It’s +horrible--horrible!” + +Hoon-Kit reached behind him for a table-napkin and hit at the thing as +it passed. + +He missed it by inches and stood staring after it as it wheeled into +the open again and was gone. + +“The Crimson Butterfly!” she exclaimed in a voice that was barely a +whisper. + +The Chinaman nodded. + +“_Yah_--a butterfly; that is all!” + +He folded the table-napkin carefully, shaking his head all the while. +It was evident in every line of his brown, wrinkled face that he was +at a loss to discover the cause of his mistress’s panic. Suddenly he +brightened and grinned broadly. + +“The _mem_ does not like red butterflies?” he suggested. + +She endeavoured to conjure up a smile. + +“Thank you, Hoon-Kit,” she said. “It was very stupid of me. I did not +see it was a butterfly. I thought it was something else. Bring in a +bottle of lager for your master; he will be here very soon now.” + +As soon as he had gone, she sank into a chair. + +“It had green eyes,” she muttered to herself, “I saw them.” + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + The Professor Turns Naturalist + +“Hullo, young people! Sorry I’m late for tiffin.” + +The professor came up the stairs, breathing heavily. His face was very +red and glistened with moisture, his tunic was open and he was mudded +up to his knees. + +Joyce sprang to her feet and ran to meet him. + +“Father! Where on earth have you been?” + +He kissed the top of her head and waved a peculiar object over her +back at Armourer. + +“What d’you think of that?” + +The magistrate removed his pipe from between his teeth and observed it +curiously. + +“A butterfly net,” he suggested. + +“Exactly--and if I’d had it half an hour ago, I’d have saved myself a +lot of unnecessary exertion.” + +His daughter took it from him. + +“Where did you get it?” + +The professor mopped his forehead. + +“A most intelligent Sikh, whom I encountered in my travels, +constructed it in less than twenty minutes. He happened to have the +materials handy. You see, it’s quite simple. Just a couple of feet of +bent cane, a little binding and some mosquito netting. He’s made a +first-class job of it, don’t you think so, Armourer?” + +The younger man took it from the girl and made a wild swipe in the +empty air. + +“Quite an efficient sort of implement.” + +Joyce laughed. + +“It’s very nice, of course,” she conceded; “but I don’t see what use +it is.” + +“No,” said her father, “I don’t for one moment suppose you do. I +shouldn’t myself, if I hadn’t caught sight of the butterfly. It was a +unique specimen--large and red and particularly clumsy in flight, and +it managed to inspire me with the enthusiasm of a boy. I remembered, +too, that Baines’s last words to me were--‘If you do happen to find +any rare bugs, try and get me them.’” He blinked over his glasses at +Armourer. “He has a wonderful collection. I don’t suppose there’s +another like it in the world. Well, I saw this butterfly and followed +it for about a couple of miles. I had nothing with me except my +helmet, so I dipped my handkerchief in a stream and knotted it over my +head. The creature flew low and a dozen times I was within an ace of +catching it--and then my spectacles got misted somehow and I lost +sight of it altogether.” + +The D.O. nodded sympathetically. + +“Where was this?” + +“Quite near that bungalow you showed us in the trees.” + +“Moberly’s place!” + +“I think that was the name you told us. I was prompted to call and ask +if anything like it had been seen there before, but I remembered it +was lunch-time. The first human being I met was this Sikh--a +picturesque fellow with curling beard and an elaborate turban. He told +me his name was Gholam-Singh. He had witnessed my wild career after +the butterfly and knew exactly what I wanted.” + +His daughter smiled. + +“He must have thought you a priceless sort of lunatic! What a +ridiculous exhibition! An elderly gentleman, with a hanky knotted over +his head, chasing butterflies!” + +“In the heat of the day,” added the magistrate. “Rather a risky thing +to do, professor, with nothing to cover the nape of your neck.” + +Standen snorted. + +“Rubbish! I was in the shade of Mr. Moberly’s rubber trees most of the +time. Chasing butterflies is no more ridiculous in a native’s eye than +hitting a white ball into space--and calmly proceeding to walk after +it! I’m sorry I missed that fellow, though. Quite apart from my +promise to Baines, I became interested in it myself. It was a +butterfly--and yet it wasn’t, if you can understand me.” He stared +from one to the other. “A butterfly is an airy, dainty thing, but +this--although it was correctly formed--looked more like a piece of +raw meat furnished with legs and antennæ.” + +Joyce gasped. + +“But how disgusting!” + +The professor sat down somewhat heavily. + +“Disgusting, eh?--Well, in some respects, I suppose it was.” He shook +his head sadly. “Ten years ago, net or no net, I shouldn’t have muffed +a thing like that.” + +She indicated the implement which now reposed on the table. + +“And now perhaps you will tell us why you want that.” + +He drummed with his fingers on his knees. + +“To go after it again, of course. Butterflies breed quickly and where +there is one there should be others.” He glanced sharply at Armourer. +“Have you ever seen one?” + +The D.O. shook his head. + +“I don’t remember ever noticing anything that answers to your +description; but then, you see, I’m not a naturalist.” + +“But you couldn’t miss a thing like that,” the other insisted, “nobody +could.” + +“And you are quite determined to get one of them before you leave +Borneo?” + +“Most certainly. I owe Baines a good many debts of gratitude.” + +Armourer rubbed his hands together. + +“Then that settles it. There’s only one thing for it. You’ll have to +tell the people at Jesselton to send your _barang_ up here, and give +me the pleasure of your company for another week at least. Miss +Standen, I am counting on you to be a sport and back me up.” + +A smooth-haired terrier with a patch over one eye raised itself on its +hind paws and thrust a nose confidingly between her fingers. + +“It certainly sounds very tempting,” she admitted. “Doesn’t it, +daddy?” + +The professor removed his glasses and wiped them. Presently he +replaced them and, clasping his hands behind his back, faced his host. + +“If there’s one thing in this world I endeavour to avoid, it’s +overstaying my welcome. Ever since we left the boat we’ve had nothing +but hospitality thrust upon us with both hands. Now, you wouldn’t +believe it, I know, Armourer, but in some respects I’m particularly +sensitive. I should hate to think I’d left an unpleasant impression +behind me in Borneo. To put it bluntly, I don’t want to be regarded as +a _sticker_.” + +Joyce looked at Armourer. + +“What he really means to say is that he knows jolly well we oughtn’t +to bother you any further and that our obvious duty is to get back to +Jesselton this afternoon, but he does so want to use that +butterfly-net!” + +“Good enough,” laughed the magistrate. “We’ll call that a bargain, +shall we, professor? You’ll stop here--both of you--until you get your +butterfly, and I’ll guarantee to have your kit fetched up here by +dinner-time this evening. Suppose we have some lunch?” + +“It’s a conspiracy,” declared the professor, and left it at that. + +At the conclusion of the meal Professor Standen retired to his room to +change his suit for one Armourer had lent him. + +Joyce stirred her coffee thoughtfully. + +“Do you really want us to stop, Mr. Armourer?” + +The D.O. looked up. + +“Rather!” + +“Honestly?” + +“Of course. To tell you the truth, Miss Standen, I’m so grimly +determined to keep you here that I’m issuing instructions to the +natives to _swat_ every red butterfly in the neighbourhood and so +dispose of their corpses that your father’ll never find ’em.” + +She looked down at the cloth. + +“That wouldn’t be very fair, would it?” + +“No, but it’d be frightfully effective.” + +“We couldn’t stay here for ever, you know. Father counted on being in +Borneo for a month and then going on to the Philippines. We’ve been +here more than a week already.” + +Armourer filled his pipe. + +“I suppose it’s really rather selfish of me to try and keep you +anchored in one spot. You see, Miss Standen, when one is forced to +move in a restricted area one forgets that visitors, with a limited +number of days at their disposal, want to move around and see +everything there is to be seen. You’re pretty fed up with me, aren’t +you, for using the crimson butterfly as a lever to persuade your +father to stop?” + +The girl flushed. + +“Oh no. I wanted him to stay. I hate just rushing about, getting +glimpses of hundreds of places. It reduces one to the level of the +ordinary tourist. Whenever I look back on this one real big adventure +of ours, I want to remember that I lived, for a while at least, +exactly as the people do who have to be here all their lives. I shall +always remember Jelandang and your thatched bungalow--and the dogs. I +shall never forget that ridiculous trolly accident, the glorious view +from the railway and your ride to Mrs. Battiscombe’s for clothes. I +must try and go over one day soon and thank her.” + +A shadow crossed Armourer’s face. There were some things he would +never forget either--that mad dance at Rembakut the night before, +those cursed lips of hers and the unexpected arrival of her husband. +Somehow or other, he didn’t want Joyce to meet Vera Battiscombe. It +would be like the meeting of something pure with something decidedly +impure. + +“I have every reason to be grateful for that trolly accident,” he +said. “It scarcely seems possible that it could only have happened +yesterday. Just fancy, we have only had one look at the bay together, +one walk up the slope and one sunset--and yet, to me at least, it +seems as if we have never been doing anything else. Twenty-four hours +ago I was feeling unutterably lonely. I was bored with myself, bored +with my job, fed to the teeth with everything----” + +Their eyes met. + +“Were you really? You poor thing! Then we were actually doing you a +good turn in coming to stay with you?” + +He pushed back his chair. + +“I should just think you were! I hadn’t seen a decent-looking white +woman for heaven knows how many months.” + +“Except Mrs. Battiscombe,” she retorted wickedly. “Oh, you can’t deny +she’s very beautiful and frightfully attractive. Anybody will tell you +that. Even I know it, and I’ve only been in Jesselton a week! And I +heard you ride back last night, you know.” + +He was staring at her awkwardly, endeavouring to frame some form of +defence, when a figure appeared suddenly at the doorway. It was +Vance--Moberly’s first assistant. + +“Sorry to butt in on you like this, Armourer, but rather a terrible +thing’s happened.” + +The magistrate started. + +“What’s the trouble?” + +Vance rubbed his chin and looked from Armourer to Joyce. + +“You’d better come outside and I’ll tell you.” + +“I’ll come now. You’ll excuse me, Miss Standen?” + +“Certainly.” + +He followed the other on to the verandah. + +“Well?” + +“Moberly’s dead!” + +“What!” + +“He’s dead,” said Vance again. “Trevor found him just after lunch. He +was doubled up in his chair on the verandah. Trevor sent for me.” + +Armourer glanced at his watch. + +“I’ll ride over with you. Any idea of the cause?” + +Vance pursed up his lips. + +“He was poisoned, of course. There’s not the least doubt about that. +He’d gone a ghastly colour. It’s a queer business altogether. There +was a piece of paper between his fingers and an opened packet on the +table at his side.” He lowered his voice. “You know, of course, that +Mrs. Battiscombe used to run over there pretty frequently. Well, the +paper appeared to be a note from her and the packet contained some +brooches and things he’d given her.” + +The magistrate picked up his hat. + +“She’d turned him down?” + +“It looks like it.” + +“And you suggest he poisoned himself?” + +The planter frowned. + +“I don’t know what to think. There’s a horrible crimson mark right +across his left cheek, like a ghastly birth-mark, and shaped like a +butterfly.” + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + The Tragedy at Bukit-Serang + +As they rode up the slope towards Moberly’s bungalow a short dark +man came down the steps to meet them. + +“Hello, Armourer! Glad you’ve rolled up. Rotten business, isn’t it?” + +Armourer had caught sight of the huddled form in the chair. + +“I’m frightfully sorry. Poor old Dick! Has the doctor been?” + +Trevor shook his head. + +“I sent for him right away, but the messenger came back with the +information that he had run over to Kudat and was not expected back +before Tuesday. The estate apothecary has had a look at him. He says +it’s poison right enough. I’ve collared his cook-boy--he’s down in the +watchman’s quarters now. He’s been with Moberly a long time, and I +don’t suppose he had anything to do with it; but Vance thought it +better to be on the safe side.” + +“Good! You haven’t moved anything?” + +“No. Everything’s just as I found it.” + +They mounted the steps. + +It was some moments before Armourer approached the dead planter. He +stood with his hands in his pockets and an unpleasant, choking +sensation in his throat. Three fit, live men gazing at a fourth who +had passed out so quickly that it shocked them! Moberly had been so +active, so intensely masculine, that this sudden snapping of the +thread had knocked them completely off their balance. + +Vance was the first to break the silence. + +“There’s that mark I told you about,” he said huskily. + +The magistrate went forward. + +Controlling his nerves with an effort, he took the dead man’s +shoulders and pushed him gently from his huddled position until he lay +outstretched. Right across his left cheek, from the fringe of his hair +to the base of the jawbone, extended a vivid crimson rash where the +skin had come up in lumps, as if stung by a nettle. + +There was a letter between the fingers of the right hand, and from the +diminutive parcel on the table dangled the Butterfly pendant, +suspended from its chain of gold filigree. + +Armourer started. + +It was an unusual type of chain, peculiarly wrought, and it dawned +upon him that he had seen one exactly like it quite recently. Mrs. +Battiscombe! It came upon him in a flash. He remembered now that when +she had ignited her cigarette from the end of his cigar he had noticed +that she wore a chain--and that he had seen it again when they were +dancing. The letter poor Moberly held was from her. She had been +wearing the pendant when he left Battiscombe’s house--and here it was +on the planter’s table. There must have been an unholy row at Rembakut +during the past dozen hours or so. Battiscombe must have suspected +Moberly or---- He rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. +The only man who had any cause to quarrel with Moberly was James +Battiscombe. It was all very perplexing. + +He turned to Vance. + +“Anybody called here this morning?” + +“No.” + +“You’re quite certain about this? How, for example, did this packet +get here?” + +“A black soldier brought it to the kitchen-quarters just before lunch. +I particularly asked the _boy_ about that.” + +“Moberly was out all the morning,” added Trevor. “I met him over on +the far side at about eleven. He seemed unusually fit then.” + +Armourer glanced at the packet again and a sudden thought struck him. +He withdrew the remaining few links of the chain and dangled the +pendant in front of Moberly’s left cheek. + +He looked back at the others. + +“Anything strike you?” he asked. + +Vance started. + +“Yes, by Gad! It’s practically the same thing in miniature.” + +Trevor bent forward excitedly. + +“A most extraordinary coincidence. It was the first thing I +noticed--the mark on the chief’s face and that weird ornament hanging +there. I had intended mentioning it to Vance, but in the excitement of +the moment I forgot. You don’t attach any importance to it, do you?” + +The magistrate found an old envelope and tucked the ornament into it. + +“I don’t know what to think,” he admitted, “but I’m going to take +charge of this until I’m satisfied it has no bearing on the cause of +Dick’s sudden death. It’s a confounded nuisance the doctor’s away.” + +“How about that black fellow?” suggested Vance. + +Armourer rubbed his chin. + +“Abu-Samar? Is he any good?” + +Trevor smiled. + +“He says he is. After all, it’s hardly a doctor we want--except as a +matter of form. We know the chief’s dead and any fool can see he’s +been poisoned. I’m open to bet anybody that old Macnally when he comes +won’t be able to tell us if the poison was vegetable, animal, or +mineral.” + +The magistrate snapped his fingers. + +“Lord! I must be daft! Here, Trevor, send somebody over to my place at +once and ask Professor Standen to come across. You can get your black +fellow too, if you like.” + +Trevor shot down the steps and called to a tall Sikh who was coming up +the slope. + +“Gholam-Singh! Come here. I want you.” + +Armourer gripped Vance’s arm. + +The sound of the watchman’s name brought him back to the professor’s +story of a chase after a red butterfly. + +“Vance, did you ever notice a large crimson butterfly anywhere around +here?” + +The other shook his head. + +“Never,” he answered firmly. + +“Nor did I, and yet Professor Standen--who happens to be my guest at +the moment--saw one here to-day and tried to catch it. He followed it +almost to this house. If he hadn’t been afraid of butting in on Dick’s +lunch-hour, he’d have called. What an extraordinary thing life is! A +less scrupulous man would have altered the entire aspect of the case. +Standen could have told us perhaps just how Moberly died; he might +even have prevented a catastrophe.” + +“But,” protested Vance, sitting down heavily, “nobody’s ever heard of +a poisonous butterfly. Supposing there were such a thing in existence, +it’s difficult to imagine it would leave a mark like that.” + +Armourer nodded gravely. + +“I know that,” he said; “but we can’t get away from facts. Moberly was +poisoned. He has a rash on his face shaped like a butterfly--and +Standen saw a strange insect fluttering in this neighbourhood just +about the time the ghastly tragedy occurred.” + +“And then there’s the brooch,” Vance reminded him. “Have you read Mrs. +Battiscombe’s note?” + +The magistrate shook his head. + +He possessed himself of the paper and scanned it hastily. + + + “Jim has come to his senses at last… we must put an end to + everything.… Keep everything you find here.… Some day I hope to… + explain. An awful scene last night; it made me dream.… Rotten, isn’t + it?” + + +Their eyes met. + +“It beats me,” said Vance. “Er--Armourer!” + +“Well?” + +“I don’t know exactly how you’re inclined to regard this business, but +I think we can safely leave Jimmie Battiscombe out of it. It’s +unfortunate there should have been a row between Mrs. Battiscombe and +himself over the chief, but, knowing Jimmie as we do, we can hardly +look upon him as a man likely to indulge in homicide--however +justifiable. Trevor hit the right nail on the head when he referred to +the presence of the butterfly ornament as a remarkable coincidence. It +couldn’t be anything else. Everybody liked Moberly. He had his +weaknesses, I admit, but he was a damn’ good fellow all the same. +Can’t we keep our mouths shut about that letter?” + +Armourer was sucking at the stem of an empty pipe. + +“Yes,” he said at length; “why not? If Standen is satisfied that Dick +died from the sting of an insect of some sort, I should be the last to +publish anything which would add to a scandal that’s already had too +much circulation.” + +Their hands gripped. + +“I’m glad you think that,” said Vance brokenly. + +His face dropped into his hands. + +“Where’s young Trevor gone?” asked Armourer presently. + +The planter withdrew his fingers and stared round him. + +“Don’t know. Gone to find Abu-Samar, I should imagine.” A sound broke +upon his ears and he sat perfectly still, listening. “What’s that?” + +The magistrate had gone to the rail. + +“Somebody coming through the trees on horseback--riding like the +devil.” He caught Vance’s arm and pulled him up. “Here, quickly!” + +“What’s the matter?” + +“I don’t know.” He threw open the first door he found and drew the +other through it. “Don’t utter a sound.” + +They stood in the shadow with the door ajar. + +Almost before Vance could collect himself, the rider had dismounted. +He heard a voice--a woman’s voice--calling. + +“Dick!--Dick!--Are you up there?” + +It was Vera Battiscombe. + +Armourer gripped the other’s arm warningly. + +She came slowly up the steps into view. + +They saw her stand for a moment, irresolute, between the still form in +the chair and the entrance. + +Suddenly she laughed. + +“Why, he’s asleep!” she murmured, and went forward as if to shake him. + +An almost irresistible desire swept over Vance to shout out something, +to do something to break the shock of the inevitable discovery. He +shuddered and gripped hard at the corner of a dressing-table to steady +himself. + +A piercing shriek sent his ears singing. + +A second--and she was backing towards the rail in horror, her +beautiful face a deathly white, her eyes wide open in terror. + +“It was true then! They have killed him! He told me----! _The Crimson +Butterfly!_” + +Her hands clasped to her ears, she ran, panic-stricken, to the +stair-head. + +Vance was half-way through the door when Armourer caught him roughly +and threw him back. + +She turned suddenly, controlling her nerves with a stupendous effort, +and walked deliberately to the packet on the table. Her trembling +fingers tore at the paper, scattering the contents broadcast. + +“Gone!” she muttered hoarsely. “They have found it!” + +She reeled, one arm bent over her forehead, and fell heavily to the +floor. + + + + + CHAPTER X. + The Mystery Deepens + +There were four people in the garden when Armourer left the +bedroom--the Sikh, with Professor Standen, Trevor and Abu-Samar. + +He went out to meet them. + +“Hullo, professor! I’m afraid I’ve rather an unpleasant job for you.” +He turned to the black doctor. “Are you Abu-Samar?” + +Samar bowed. + +“Well, you’d better go straight into that room where you see the door +open. You will find Mr. Vance there with an English lady who has +fainted. I want you to do all you can for her.” + +He waited until the other had gone up, then drew Standen into the +shade. + +“There’s a dead man up there,” he began. “It’s Moberly--the planter +about whom I spoke to you yesterday. You remember your red butterfly? +Well, I fancy you have reason to be thankful that you didn’t catch it. +I believe it killed Dick Moberly.” + +The professor blinked at him. + +“Killed Mr. Moberly!” he ejaculated. “Surely you’re not in earnest?” + +“Very much so, I’m afraid. If you hadn’t told me about that butterfly, +I shouldn’t have known what to think. But both the time when you saw +it and the peculiar mark on the poor chap’s face seem to point to the +fact that Moberly was stung by it and died from the poison it exuded.” + +“There’s a mark, eh? What sort of mark?” + +The magistrate led the way to the verandah. + +“Come up and see for yourself. The doctor’s away and I’ve no +alternative than to place the matter entirely in your hands.” + +As the professor bent over the chair, Armourer swept the trinkets from +the table and passed them over to Trevor. The letter he had already +tucked away in a pocket. + +“That is Moberly’s property,” he said in a low voice; “you’d better +take charge of it and put it with the rest of his effects. If you miss +anything,” he added meaningly, “talk to Vance about it--afterwards.” + +The first assistant came out at that moment. + +“Mrs. Battiscombe’s come round all right,” he announced, “but she +seems in a pretty bad way. We’d better get Jimmie over here.” + +Armourer set his jaw firmly. + +“No. We’ll have her carried to my place and advise him from there. +Miss Standen can look after her and I’ll get the professor to certify +she’s too ill to be moved. There are one or two questions I want to +ask her as soon as she’s fit to answer them. Get some men and a +_pikul_, and, if you can spare him, I’d like Trevor to see her safely +over. You’re a medical man, of course, professor?” + +Standen glanced over his shoulder. + +“What’s that?” + +The magistrate repeated his question. + +“Oh, yes; I’m a doctor right enough.” + +He stripped off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and ripped open the +dead man’s tunic. + +“I tell you what, Armourer, I’m not leaving Borneo until I have +secured a specimen of that particular type of insect. It’s most +providential I was on the spot when this occurred. We are undoubtedly +on the verge of a great discovery. A poisonous butterfly! People at +home would laugh at us, wouldn’t they? But a venomous, vindictive +insect, charged with poison-cells from wing-tip to wing-tip! It sounds +incredible, impossible--and yet we have undeniable evidence.” + +The little man was becoming quite excited, and with every fresh +exertion his face became a deeper red. His experienced fingers +travelled all over the corpse, now pressing a muscle, now lifting an +eye-lid. Peculiar little grunts escaped him at intervals, until in a +grim sort of way he reminded Armourer of one of his terriers out after +rats. Moberly, whom they had all known and liked, had, as far as the +professor was concerned, become an interesting subject. + +The magistrate could hardly have expected it to be otherwise, but it +struck him as a ghoulish sort of performance all the same. + +He saw Abu-Samar in the doorway. + +“Well, doctor, and how’s your patient?” + +“She is delirious,” he replied. “She keeps asking for a certain +article of jewellery which, it appears, she has lost. It might help +matters to give it her.” + +Armourer looked hard at Trevor. + +“Oh, yes!” he returned easily. “What sort of ornament, Dr. Samar?” + +“A ruby ornament on a gold chain--with emerald eyes,” said Samar +without turning a hair. “Have either of you gentlemen seen it?” + +Armourer shook his head. + +“Not I.” + +“Nor I,” added Vance quickly. + +Trevor glanced from one to the other before replying. + +“A ruby ornament with emerald eyes! Good Lord, no. I haven’t got it.” + +He felt inordinately guilty as he spoke, but Samar did not appear to +notice. + +He looked at his watch. + +“I am going away now. I propose looking back this evening to see if +there is any improvement. She will be all right until then.” + +Armourer smiled pleasantly. + +“You needn’t bother, Dr. Samar. Mr. Battiscombe will be over shortly +and I expect he will want to send for his own medical man. I’m afraid +I was responsible for troubling you in this case and you’d better +apply to me for your fee.” + +“Not at all,” interrupted the first assistant. “This is an estate +affair, and we’ll settle it.” + +“On second thoughts,” corrected Armourer, “it seems to me that it’s +outside Bukit-Serang altogether, and the person who’s primarily +responsible for his wife’s health is Mr. James Battiscombe. Good +afternoon, Dr. Samar. Thanks very much. You’ll send that _chit_ to me, +won’t you?” + +They carried the planter between them to his own room, and Trevor +accompanied Mrs. Battiscombe to the magistrate’s bungalow. + +It was five o’clock when the three remaining Englishmen sat in +consultation round the table upon which the trinkets had once reposed. + +“Poisoned by some insect--the exact nature of which is unknown,” said +the professor suddenly, as if he had been turning the phrase over in +his mind for some time. + +The magistrate looked up. + +“You would give a certificate to that effect?” + +Standen spread out his hands. + +“Most certainly. What else could one say?” + +“Nothing, of course. I was only interested to learn how you would put +it.” + +Armourer caught Vance’s eye. + +“Well, that’s settled. I’m awfully obliged to you, professor. Vance, +old son, you can’t do any good moping about here. Come over and have +dinner with us. We’ll meet Trevor and make him join us.” + +The planter pressed a moist hand to his forehead. + +“I don’t like the idea of leaving the place.” + +Armourer dropped a hand on to his shoulder. + +“It’ll do you all the good in the world to get away from things. Stick +a couple of watchmen on guard outside.” + +“All right,” said the other gloomily. “I’ll come.” + +They rode through the trees, the professor mounted on Mrs. +Battiscombe’s pony. They were within a quarter of a mile of Armourer’s +house when Standen wheeled round on the path. + +“What’s the matter?” asked the magistrate. + +The professor frowned deeply. + +“If you young men will excuse me, I’ll go back and have another look +at Mr. Moberly. I don’t expect to be more than half an hour.” + +“I’ll come with you,” suggested Vance. + +Standen shook his head. + +“I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.” + +“Just as you like, of course. You’d better explain to Gholam-Singh +that you have my permission to go in.” + +They were sitting on the verandah when the professor returned. + +Joyce had just come from her room, where Mrs. Battiscombe now lay, and +Trevor was talking to her. + +The professor beckoned to Vance. + +“Are you quite sure of your men?” he demanded. + +The planter started. + +“Yes, I suppose so. Why?” + +“Because I feel convinced that somebody had been in Moberly’s room +between the time that we left and when I got back there. The body was +not in the same position, there was a peculiar pungent odour hanging +everywhere--and the mark on the face had entirely vanished!” + + + + + CHAPTER XI. + Joyce Displays Curiosity + +Armourer felt Joyce at his side. + +“I’m thirsting for information,” she explained softly. “Whenever I +approach father--he just glares at me and carries on a conversation +with somebody else. I’ve tried Mr. Trevor, but he only colours up and +looks uncomfortable--and Mr. Vance seems so utterly miserable that I +haven’t the heart to tackle him.” + +The magistrate smiled down at her. + +“What do you want to know?” + +“Oh, heaps of things. Why Mr. Vance came for you in such a hurry after +tiffin; why you sent for daddy; why Mrs. Battiscombe fell ill so +suddenly--and why you all persist in indulging in whispered +conversations? Is somebody dead?” + +Armourer started. + +“Yes,” he felt bound to confess. “The planter who owned that nice +bungalow in the trees died this afternoon--very suddenly. There was no +doctor handy, so we sent for Professor Standen. Mrs. Battiscombe rode +over to see Mr. Moberly, and--well, the sudden news that he had pegged +out upset her.” + +“She fainted?” + +“That’s right.” + +“At Mr. Moberly’s house?” + +The magistrate nodded. + +“Then, if you wanted to move her at all, why didn’t you send her to +her husband’s bungalow?” + +Armourer glanced nervously over the rail at the group of men talking +together below. + +“Because, Miss Standen, this was a good deal nearer and there happened +to be another white woman here who could look after her. We’ve sent +for Mr. Battiscombe, but he happened to be out when our messenger +called. He’ll come over as soon as the news reaches him.” + +The girl appeared to be thinking deeply. + +“Is Mr. Battiscombe a nice man?” + +“Rather; one of the best.” + +“She’s frightfully pretty, isn’t she?” + +“Oh, yes.” + +“He won’t be angry when he learns that her illness was caused by the +news of Mr. Moberly’s death? She is dreadfully ill, you know.” + +Armourer was not feeling any too comfortable at that moment. He was +aware that Vera Battiscombe was in a high fever and a little afraid to +what extremes her delirium might carry her. Above all, he had no +desire for Joyce to glean from her ravings exactly what happened at +Rembakut on the previous evening. In his keenness to solve the mystery +of the Crimson Butterfly, he had forgotten until that moment that +Battiscombe had surprised them on the verandah and would be inclined +to regard the presence of Vera--ill and at Armourer’s house--with +suspicion. Battiscombe had been blind for so long that it was +difficult to make allowances for what he would think now that his eyes +were opened. + +“I expect we shall have to approach her husband very tactfully,” he +said, “and, in case we decide to frame some ingenious little story to +meet the emergency, you had better know nothing. She talks a good +deal, I suppose?” + +“Yes.” + +“About anybody in particular?” + +She leaned back against the table. + +“She doesn’t talk sensibly, of course. Sometimes she rambles on for +minutes at a time; then there are long periods of silence, broken +perhaps by little incoherent remarks. I can only remember hearing +‘Dick’ and ‘Jim,’ and once she murmured something about a butterfly. I +nursed a man once who apparently saw the most beautiful butterflies in +his dreams. He used to tell me about them. He had been hit in the +head. Mrs. Battiscombe didn’t strike her head when she fell?” + +“I don’t think so.” + +There ensued a long pause, at the end of which Joyce said: + +“I must go back to her now.” + +She was on the point of entering the room when the magistrate called +to her softly: + +“Miss Standen!” + +“What is it?” + +“I want you to pay particular attention to anything further she says +about that butterfly. Make some sort of note of her remarks, if you +can.” + +She smiled wistfully. + +“All right; I will. More secrets?” + +“I’m afraid so. I’ll tell you all about it one of these days.” + +She turned the handle and pushed open the door. + +“It’s been quite a day of butterflies, hasn’t it? Daddy chased a red +one for quite a while this morning.” + +“By Jove!” ejaculated Armourer with well-simulated surprise. “So he +did!” + +He went down the steps and joined the others. + +The professor was leaning against a post; Vance, looking particularly +dejected, stood with his hands in his pockets a couple of yards away; +Trevor was sitting on the ground. + +It was the hour of sunset again--and so much had happened since Joyce +and Michael witnessed the last one together twenty-four hours ago! +Dick had been alive then, and Armourer had waved to him as he passed +his house on the way to the estate store for a tooth-brush. Vera +Battiscombe--who now lay, fragile and fever-racked, babbling +incoherencies--had been a desirable vampire-thing, woefully in +possession of all her faculties. + +“Have you still got that ornament on you?” demanded Trevor, as +Armourer came up. + +The magistrate felt in his pocket. + +“Yes. Why?” + +“Professor Standen would like to have a look at it.” + +He passed the envelope to the professor, who withdrew the pendant and +held it to the light. + +He glanced presently from one to the other. + +“Astounding! And you say it was on the table when the poor chap died?” + +Vance nodded. + +“We are taking Standen into our confidence,” he explained to Armourer. +“It won’t go any further. You don’t mind, do you?” + +“Not in the very least. It’s quite on the cards he may be able to help +us out.” He turned to the professor. “You’d better hear the whole of +the yarn, anyway. I went to Rembakut--that’s Battiscombe’s place--last +night, if you remember, to get some things for your daughter. +Battiscombe was out, and his wife, pleading loneliness, begged me to +stay with her until he returned. I didn’t see the Butterfly then, but +I clearly recollect noticing that chain round her neck. It next +appeared, with the pendant attached, on the table by Dick’s elbow this +afternoon. We all remarked on the coincidence, the similarity to the +mark on Dick’s face; but we could only regard it as a coincidence and +nothing else.” + +“Naturally. Well----?” + +“Then Mrs. Battiscombe rode over and something prompted me to drag +Vance into an adjoining room and watch what she did. I feel pretty +rotten about it now, because the discovery has proved more of a shock +to her system than I believed possible at the time. But there was that +letter to be considered, stating that she and Jim had had a row over +Moberly, and I wanted to prove conclusively that neither Jim nor she +knew anything about the tragedy. I was so keen on my job that I +actually jotted down what she said the moment she realised that Dick +was dead.” He glanced at the back of an envelope. “‘It was true +then!… They have killed him!… He told me.… The Crimson Butterfly!’” + +“‘They have killed him,’” repeated Standen. “You are quite sure she +said that?” + +“Quite. You heard it too, Vance.” + +The planter inclined his head. + +“Quite clearly.” + +The professor was still examining the pendant. + +“And then----?” + +“And then she began foraging among the various articles of jewellery +on the table, apparently searching for _that_. She couldn’t find it, +because I had it already--in my pocket. Her next remark was: ‘Gone!… +They have found it!’--and then she fell.” + +“But,” put in Trevor, “the interesting fact remains that the chief was +stung by a butterfly--or some similar insect, because we all saw the +mark and the professor noticed a strange-looking creature in the +neighbourhood of the bungalow just before lunch. You can’t get away +from that.” + +“We all know that,” agreed Vance, “but what’s puzzling all of us at +the moment is who told Mrs. Battiscombe that Dick was going to be +killed. There’s another thing too: we’ve all of us been out East a +good spell and not one of us can remember having heard of a poisonous +butterfly--and yet she referred to _The Crimson Butterfly_ as if she’d +known it all her life. I’m not inclined to be superstitious, and I +take any native yarn I hear with a pinch of salt, but I’ve got an idea +at the back of my skull that that damned ornament had everything to do +with Moberly’s death.” + +“You’re getting morbid,” declared the second assistant. + +“Very likely--but I defy anyone to think deeply about an affair like +this without getting morbid. Look at the facts: Mrs. Battiscombe sent +that ornament to Dick, and about the first thing she did when she +found he was dead was to try and get it back. It wasn’t the tragedy +that knocked her out--it was the knowledge that somebody had found +that pendant. Isn’t that so, Armourer?” + +Armourer sucked thoughtfully at his pipe. + +“It looks like it.” + +“If it were merely one of Dick’s presents to her, why should she want +it back? Who was the accomplice who, fearing that the resemblance +between the ornament and the mark would be noticed, slipped into +Moberly’s bungalow and employed some mysterious chemical preparation +to remove the mark?” + +In the weird half-light his long face looked more than usually sallow. + +“Don’t you think,” he continued, levelling a finger at Armourer, +“that, in the light of recent developments, the butterfly Professor +Standen thought he saw is our one stumbling-block to the solution of +the mystery? Without that, it seems pretty clear sailing. Dick and +Mrs. Battiscombe were about a good deal together. It’s possible he may +have offended some vindictive native and that she heard him threaten +the chief. More likely still, Dick might have taken that ornament from +some obscure sanctuary to give to her. You know these queer religions. +The guardian of the shrine, or whatever you like to call him, could +have poisoned Dick, made that mark with some corrosive fluid and----” + +“It won’t work,” broke in the magistrate gravely. “You see, Vance, the +ornament was left behind. He would hardly have forgotten that.” + +The professor coughed. + +“And,” he insisted, “I didn’t merely _think_ I saw a red butterfly. I +did visualise it--and gave a very sound description to Armourer when I +got back. Moreover, so anxious was I to make another attempt to catch +it, that I got your very excellent Gholam-Singh to make me a net; and +all this before anyone had heard that Mr. Moberly was dead. +Personally, I adhere to the opinion that that particular insect--a +four-winged monstrosity masquerading as a butterfly--was responsible +for the tragedy we are now discussing. With regard to the fresh +complications that have since arisen--I confess myself mystified. It +is within the bounds of possibility that these will be found to have +quite simple explanations as soon as Mrs. Battiscombe is well enough +to tell us about them. You know, Vance, the longer I live the less +anxious I am to jump to obvious conclusions. Whenever there are two +sides to a question, I like to probe both very thoroughly. I don’t +know the lady in question, of course. I’ve been on this island only a +matter of days. But I have it on excellent authority that Mrs. +Battiscombe was celebrated for her beauty, her easy-going +disposition--if one may call it so--and her quick-wittedness. She came +up the steps to Mr. Moberly’s verandah, saw the dead man and the scar +on his face, and uttered a perfectly natural exclamation--‘_The +Crimson Butterfly!_’ It was a crimson butterfly; it was shaped like +one and it was crimson in colour. At that point she remembered the +trinket and, recognising that its unfortunate resemblance to the mark +would be bound to attract notice, decided to conceal it. It came as a +shock to her to discover that the resemblance had been noticed and the +ornament removed. The other purely hysterical ejaculations I should be +disposed to wash out altogether. What does a delightful, butterfly +creature like Mrs. Battiscombe know about _killing_!” + +Darkness fell suddenly and they found their way one by one to the +verandah. + +Standen found himself next to Armourer. + +“How does that strike you?” he demanded. + +The magistrate wrinkled his forehead. + +“I’ve listened attentively to both sides,” he announced. “I’m always +doing it; it’s my job!--I’ve nothing to find fault with in your +earnestness or your eloquence; but neither of your solutions is in the +least bit water-tight. What do you say to a drink?” + + + + + CHAPTER XII. + Colleagues Confer + +Armourer had just emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a long +towel, when Trevor put his head round the door. + +“Battiscombe’s here.” + +The magistrate sat down heavily on the bed. + +“The devil he is!--That makes six to dinner!--I wonder how the grub’ll +spin out!” + +Trevor came right in and closed the door after him. + +“He hasn’t been home since lunch. Says he had an urgent message to +meet the Commissioner at Ketatan. We thought you’d better tell him +about Mrs. Battiscombe.” + +Armourer rubbed a damp spot on his leg with a corner of the towel. + +“Oh, all right. Send him in here--Oh, just a minute, Trevor. We might +as well let him down as lightly as we can. Tell Vance the yarn is that +Mrs. B. was picked up in the trees on your estate--better say _near_ +your estate--and that you brought her here, as you’d heard there was +an English girl staying with me. I’ll fit in poor Dick’s affair as +best I can.” + +The assistant rubbed the back of his head. + +“He’s bound to find out in the long run.” + +“It’s just possible he will; but we don’t want to risk his going off +the deep end at the moment. It won’t suit my purpose to have him +worrying about his wife and poor Dick. I want him to concentrate on +the Crimson Butterfly business.” + +“All right.” + +He was about to go in search of Battiscombe, when the huge form of the +magistrate from Rembakut filled the doorway. + +“Hullo, Trevor! You here, too? Quite a considerable gathering.” + +Trevor laughed weakly. + +“I’m just off to tell Armourer’s _boy_ that there’ll be another to +_makan_. See you later.” + +The door closed. + +Armourer passed over the cigarette tin and indicated a chair with his +bare foot. + +“Well, Jim! You think me a howling outsider, don’t you?” + +Battiscombe frowned and then laughed. + +“Oh, you’re thinking of last night! I thought quite a lot of things +then, but fortunately for everybody concerned I’ve reconsidered them. +We’ll forget that, if you don’t mind.” + +The younger man looked at his toes. + +“Thanks. I was afraid you’d want me to explain--and there isn’t any +explanation. I was just a damn’ fool, that’s all there is to it.” He +struck a match and held it out to the other. “The awkward thing is +that Mrs. Battiscombe’s here now--ill.” + +“What!” + +The match flickered out and Battiscombe stared round the room as if +expecting--in a world of fresh surprises--to find his wife secreted +somewhere within those four walls. + +“Yes, old son. Trevor found her and brought her over. Miss Standen +happened to be staying here with her father, and she very kindly +consented to nurse her. We sent for you immediately.” + +“I haven’t been back. Is she bad?” + +“Just a touch of fever. I don’t think there’s the slightest cause for +alarm. Luckily we have a doctor in the house--Miss Standen’s +father--and he’ll pull her through all right. She mustn’t be moved +just yet.” + +Battiscombe came slowly to his feet. + +“She would ride out in the heat of the day,” he muttered. “I’d better +go and see her.” + +“I shouldn’t, if I were you. It might upset her.” + +The other groaned. + +“She must have had it coming on last night. I found her walking in her +sleep. When d’you think I’ll be able to see her?” + +“We’ll talk to Standen about that in a minute. All you’ve got to do is +to sit down quietly and try not to get rattled. After all, everybody +out here gets fever sooner or later.” + +Battiscombe flopped down again and the chair creaked ominously beneath +his weight. + +“What’s Vance doing here?” + +“I was just going to tell you. Vance and I have been having a pretty +tough afternoon. Dick Moberly pegged out just about lunch-time.” + +Battiscombe stared at him in blank amazement. + +“Pegged out!--Died, you mean?” + +Armourer nodded. + +“I’m afraid so. Macnally was away at the time and Professor Standen +acted for him. It appears he was poisoned by some bug or other, +apparently while he was dozing in his chair after the morning’s work. +Standen’s an authority on poisons and I’m going to persuade the +Commissioner to get him to investigate the matter officially.” + +“Sure it wasn’t snake-bite?” + +“I don’t think so. It’s a most peculiar case. Everything seems to +point to his being stung by a thing that looked like a red butterfly, +but, as Standen puts it, was charged with poison-cells from wing-tip +to wing-tip. You’ve been out here longer than most of us. I was +wondering if you could help us.” + +Battiscombe shook his head. + +“Butterflies don’t sting,” he insisted. + +“That’s one of the queer points about it. Dick had a great crimson +patch right across one cheek--exactly like a butterfly.” + +“A native _ju-ju_,” suggested the other. + +Armourer flicked the ash from his cigarette. + +“Vance thinks that now; but _ju-ju_--or their Bornese +equivalent--belong to the realm of fairy-tales.” + +Battiscombe moved awkwardly in his chair. + +“Afraid I really don’t know enough about ’em to express an opinion. A +fellow I knew once believed in ’em though--and he’d explored the +jungle from end to end. A queer, long chap named Russell. You won’t +remember him, I expect; he was a trifle before your time. So Dick’s +dead! Doesn’t seem possible, does it?” + +“No. It’s a ghastly business, and it’s hit Vance pretty hard. He +thought no end of Dick. Er--this _ju-ju_, butterfly, or whatever you +like to call it, that caused the trouble was crimson--a crimson +butterfly. Does that help at all? Have you ever heard of a native +religion that employed one as its symbol?” + +He observed the other keenly. + +Battiscombe’s great head swung to and fro like a pendulum. + +“Never,” he declared, and then frowned heavily. “A crimson butterfly! +D’you mean a live butterfly--or something resembling one?” + +Armourer grabbed up a pile of underclothes and began scrambling into +them. + +“Either.” + +“I’ve never encountered any cult in which a butterfly bore the +slightest significance, but I saw a crimson butterfly on a chain last +night. Vera had it and, between ourselves, I made her send it back to +Dick.” + +“Oh, yes? Dick gave it her?” + +“Apparently. It was a pretty thing, with emeralds for eyes. There was +something uncanny about it, now you remind me, and for some reason or +other I didn’t care about holding it too long.” + +“Where did he dig it up?” + +“In a bazaar in Colombo or Singapore. Vera didn’t appear certain about +it. By Jove, Michael! Dick would have got that this morning!” + +“He did,” said Armourer, his head coming out of the top of his vest at +that moment; “it was on his table when we discovered him. Queer, +wasn’t it?” + +“Hell!” remarked the larger man. “I don’t like the look of this. Do I +understand you to say that Dick had a mark on him like that +butterfly?” + +“We all noticed the resemblance.” + +“All! What d’you mean by all?” + +“Professor Standen, Vance and myself--and Trevor when he came along +after accompanying your wife here.” + +Battiscombe got up and paced the room for some seconds, a performance +which seemed to stimulate his reasoning faculties. + +“Moberly dead--and Vera sick! Where did young Trevor pick her up?” + +Armourer was brushing his hair vigorously and did not turn his head. + +“I don’t know exactly.” + +Battiscombe caught his shoulders and forced him round. + +“I’m not quite such a blithering idiot as you people persist in +imagining. Tell us the whole truth, Michael.” + +“Good Lord, man! I’m telling you it as fast as I can.” + +The other held his head on one side and screwed up his eyes. + +“There’s a conspiracy going on somewhere. I can smell it. Trevor +looked as guilty as a schoolboy caught stealing apples. Vance kept +hopping first on one foot and then on the other--and I couldn’t get an +ounce of sense out of him. You found Vera at Dick’s place, didn’t you? +She was just itching to ride over and explain exactly why she returned +those confounded trinkets. I’ll wager a thousand dollars with anybody +that she hopped into riding kit as soon as I’d left the house. I can +see through your little game, Michael, and I admire you all the more +for it. You didn’t want my feelings to be hurt. But they’ve been hurt +a good deal lately, and one more kick won’t make much odds.” A sudden +thought struck him. “She didn’t make a fool of herself and--and shoot +him?” + +For the first time Armourer laughed. + +“Nothing of that sort, old son. You can make your mind quite easy +about that.” He regarded his friend steadily. “The story of Dick’s +death was a true bill right enough. The mark was on his face and that +extraordinary pendant was on the table; but Mrs. Battiscombe didn’t +show up until Vance had fetched me. She fainted soon after the awful +truth dawned on her and she’s been pretty queer ever since. I’ve still +another kick for these poor old feelings of yours, Jim! She seemed to +know Dick was going to be killed and that the Crimson Butterfly would +have something to do with it.” + +“You don’t mean that?” + +“I do, Jim. That’s the real reason why I told Trevor to bring her +here. I thought that, in her delirium, she might say something that +would give us a clue. Listen: Professor Standen saw the insect that +might have caused Dick’s death; he chased it almost up to his bungalow +this morning. It was a horrible-looking thing, as far as I could make +out. He described it rather graphically as a piece of raw meat that +had grown legs and antennæ.” + +“When was this?” + +“Somewhere between noon and lunch. The tragedy must have happened +shortly after.” + +Battiscombe was tapping his thumb-nail on his teeth. + +“Now that’s really extraordinary!” + +“What makes you say that?” + +“Why, Hoon-Kit came to me with a yarn that Vera had been scared to +death by a huge red butterfly that flew on to the verandah and off +again. This would have been before your friend saw it, because I came +up from the court-house with my usual abnormal thirst at ten minutes +to twelve. Vera was in her room when Hoon-Kit trotted the beer along. +He murmured something to the effect that the _mem_ was afraid of red +butterflies. It was such a fat-headed sort of remark to make that I +made him explain himself. What d’you make of _that_?” + +“It’s positively uncanny. It’s almost as if the butterfly and its +image were connected somehow. Nobody had ever seen the ornament before +except, perhaps, Mrs. Battiscombe. As far as we are concerned, it +first showed up at your place and then went, almost immediately after, +to Moberly’s. Bang on top of this comes the actual butterfly. It +floats in at Rembakut, following the trail of the pendant, and, +finding it gone, flies across to Dick’s house--and kills the person +found in possession of it. Sounds tolerably good nonsense, doesn’t it? +But that’s precisely how a superstitious person might be expected to +look at it.” + +“You’ve a nasty mind, Michael!” declared Battiscombe, and his large +frame shuddered. + +“But,” persisted the other, “there is a lot more in this than meets +the eye. Leaving the pendant out of the question altogether, there’s +one great outstanding feature that raises the affair from one of +simple insect-bite. While we were on our way here, some person unknown +raided Dick’s bungalow and in some mysterious manner erased the mark +from his face. If we could discover who that was, we should be a deal +nearer the solution.” + +Battiscombe shook himself. + +“Hurry up with your dressing, for the love of Mike! I’m beginning to +want a good stiff tot! Your harrowing narrative has almost made me +forget that you and I have got to arrest Mr. Abu-Samar. That’s why the +Commissioner was in such a blinking hurry to see me.” + +“Arrest Abu-Samar. Whatever for?” + +“For being an impostor, incendiary, and the Lord knows what. He’s +wanted in Sarawak, Sumatra, the Federated Malay States--and possibly +in Timbuctu! Wherever he goes he stirs up trouble--and trouble is the +last thing we want here.” + +Armourer grinned. + +“As far as I can see, we’ve quite enough to go on with, as it is. +Arrest Abu-Samar, eh? That’s about the last thing I expected.” + +“And I kicked him out of the court-house yesterday for suggesting I +should put him up for membership of the club! If I’d known then what I +do now--it’d have saved an ocean of trouble!” + +Armourer whistled. + +“You kicked Abu-Samar, did you? Well, Jim, all I can say is--you must +have had intense provocation!” + +“I did,” returned Battiscombe. “Now, what about that drink?” + + + + + CHAPTER XIII. + A Nocturnal Expedition + +Professor Standen came out of Mrs. Battiscombe’s room, closing the +door after him. + +“Well?” inquired her husband anxiously. + +The professor looked down at his hands. + +“I think she’s nice and comfortable now. Her temperature’s not normal +yet; but there’s been an appreciable drop since this afternoon. I’m +hoping she’ll sleep till the morning. Armourer’s very kindly given up +his own bed to my daughter and had it fixed up in the room. Joyce has +had a good deal of nursing experience--and there’s nothing for you to +worry about at all.” + +He rubbed his hands together. + +“Now, what about this expedition?” + +Battiscombe indicated Armourer. + +“Better consult the magistrate in whose area we now are. He’s in +charge.” + +“Oh, no,” protested his colleague. “_Seniores priores_--and all that +sort of thing, you know. I cheerfully waive all territorial rights in +favour of seniority--and weight!” + +“That be hanged for a tale! The Commissioner said----” + +“Damn the Commissioner!” remarked Armourer cheerfully. “Abu-Samar’s +your bird--not mine. My men--and my own valuable assistance--are +entirely at your disposal. Professor Standen would like to join us.” + +“Good enough! How about you, Vance? Any stomach for nocturnal +adventuring?” + +The first assistant, who had been staring gloomily into the night, +shifted his position on the rail. + +“Oh, I’ll come. I’m not in a mood for standing about and doing +nothing. Trevor’d better stop with Miss Standen. One of us must be +here, in any case.” + +Battiscombe began searching for his hat. + +“Then that’s settled. We’ll push off now and get it off our chests. +Anybody seen my topee?” + +Armourer smiled. + +“You can’t have lost it, Jim. It’s the biggest thing in hats ever +made!” + +The other dived behind a table and presently drew himself to his full +height, a smile of triumph illuminating his features. + +By way of reply, he dropped it unconcernedly over Armourer’s head, +thereby extinguishing his fellow-magistrate completely. + +They filed out into the clearing. + +“How far have we got to go?” demanded Vance. + +Battiscombe reflected. + +“About two and a half miles. I suggest we walk it. What do you say, +professor?” + +“I’m game.” + +“I suppose you others are agreeable? My corporal knows the way and, as +far as I can gather, the track’s badly overgrown.” + +Vance looked up. + +“You don’t anticipate any trouble?” + +Battiscombe shook his head. + +“There ought not to be any bother at all. I don’t fancy he’s been here +long enough to have any native backing. You’re all armed, I imagine?” + +Standen patted a side-pocket. + +“I am for one.” + +“Armourer’s lent me a gun,” added the first assistant. “Mine’s over on +the estate.” + +A shadowy form appeared round the corner of the house, carrying a lamp +and followed by three or four others. + +Joyce looked over the rail. + +“Look after daddy, Mr. Armourer, won’t you? He’s inclined to be +reckless!” + +Armourer laughed. + +“All right,” he called back. “We’ll impose any form of restraint we +think necessary.” + +The procession moved off. + +There was a stiff breeze blowing from the sea and the night air was +pleasantly cool. The inimitable Kuraman--short and thickset--went on +ahead with the lamp; Battiscombe and Armourer came next, while Vance +followed with the professor. A short distance behind, three of +Armourer’s men and two of his colleagues tumbled along with their +rifles slung, smoking and chattering in an undertone. + +The path led them westward, turning presently south in the direction +of the Ayer River. + +Battiscombe tripped over a root, swore and regained his balance. + +“Hope Vera’ll be better in the morning,” he said suddenly. “Thank +heaven she’s as strong as a horse. Have you got that Butterfly affair +with you?” + +Armourer started and began searching all his pockets in turn. + +“Damn!” + +“What’s the matter?” + +“I believe I’ve left it in my other clothes. I suppose it’ll be all +right?” + +He peered through the gloom at his companion. + +“Is your servant honest?” + +“As honest as most. The chances are he won’t have finished cleaning up +in the kitchen by the time we get back. In which case he won’t have +been in my room. Appear to have left my pipe too. Give me a cigarette, +will you!” + +“You can have a cigar, if you prefer it.” + +He held out his case and Armourer lit up. + +Battiscombe looked back at the others, but found they were already +smoking. + +He glanced thoughtfully at the overhanging trees. + +“About another ten minutes of this and we ought to be in the open for +a spell. Hope we don’t strike any leeches. I hate ’em.” + +“Tell me about Abu-Samar,” said Armourer. + +“You’ve met him?” + +“Oh, yes.” + +He was going to add that he had sent him in to attend Vera that +afternoon, but wisely refrained. + +“Unpleasant looking chap, isn’t he?--I took a rooted dislike to him +from the very first. I didn’t like his eyes.” + +“They are queer,” admitted Armourer. + +“As far as my information goes, he’s no earthly right to any of the +letters he sticks after his name. He began life somewhere about here +as a sort of medicine-man and made such a good thing at it that he +saved enough money to get him to Ceylon. There he took to +snake-charming and eventually got in tow with a native conjurer, who +produced the usual programme of hypnotic illusions. This feller +disappeared after a while and the mystery of his disappearance has +never been satisfactorily cleared up. Anyhow, Samar took over his +stock-in-trade and blossomed forth into a fully-fledged magician on +his own account. There’s a gap in the records extending over about +three years, when Abu crops up again in Anam. He seems to have dropped +hypnotism and gone in extensively for drugs. It appears that in this +instance he employed forged certificates to endeavour to obtain a job +in the French colonial service as an apothecary. The forgery was +detected and Abu-Samar sent to gaol for a long term. He escaped, +however, and the three principal officials responsible for his +detection and imprisonment died in a mysterious manner at about the +same time.” + +“Poison, eh?” + +“That is the general belief, but no trace of any poison was discovered +at the post-mortem. It is assumed that either a peculiar, +self-effacing drug was used, or that--and what I imagine is more +likely--the physicians who officiated weren’t particularly smart at +their job. How Abu left Anam nobody knows. He appeared a little later +in Singapore, stirred up native trouble there, skipped by the skin of +his teeth to Dutch territory--Sumatra, organised a band of freebooters +that fairly terrorised the island--and, finding the place too warm for +him, decided to transfer his attentions to Sarawak. Then he came +here.” + +“Where did you unearth all this?” + +“The Commissioner gave me a whole screed; it runs into about ten +pages. I’ll let you have a copy. It’s worth framing!” + +There followed a long silence. + +“Jim,” said Armourer suddenly, “your wife has never met Abu?” + +“Good Lord, no--never. Why?” + +“Don’t know. I was only thinking. The bridge is just in front of us. +We’d better put out all lights.” + +He signalled back to the other two; while Battiscombe went forward to +Corporal Kuraman. + +They took the track Vera had followed the day before. + +It was the professor who noticed it first. + +“Vance, you didn’t put your pipe in your pocket while it was still +alight?” + +The planter dived in a hand and produced it. + +“No,” he returned; “not guilty!” He sniffed. “There is a smell of +burning somewhere, though, isn’t there?” + +“I certainly thought so. There!--Do you see that light through the +trees?--Ah! it’s gone again. No, there it is!” + +Vance whistled softly and the two district officers halted. + +“What’s up?” demanded Battiscombe. “Anyone hurt?” + +“The professor has just noticed a fire of some sort or other right +ahead of us. No, not where you’re looking; further to the left. There! +Got it?” + +Battiscombe called Kuraman. + +“Kuraman, what’s that light?” + +The brown corporal shifted his round hat to the back of his head and +stared in the direction his master was pointing. After a few seconds +he sidestepped into the trees and looked again. + +“It is the house of Abu-Samar, _Tuan_,” he announced presently. “I +think it is burning.” + +Their faces were close together now and each looked at his immediate +neighbour for enlightenment. + +“Better get there at the double,” said Armourer; “he’s got wind of +this.” + +“Don’t believe it,” asserted Battiscombe. “The Commissioner arranged +it off his own bat--and not a soul knew of it, barring myself. Kuraman +may be mistaken. Perhaps it’s a fire just this side of the place.” + +“We’ll soon see,” said Vance, and strode off into the darkness. + +At the bend in the path they broke into a sharp trot. As the trees +thinned out, the truth of the corporal’s statement revealed itself. +Driven low by the breeze, columns of smoke swept over them, setting +them coughing. Between the gusts, they caught glimpses of a blazing +inferno, where reed wall and sago roof were enveloped in a sea of +flame that soared roaring to the skies. + +“Spread out,” shouted Battiscombe at the top of his voice. “Vance, you +nip round to the right and take a couple of men with you; professor, +d’you mind being responsible for the left? You can have Kuraman and +one other. That leaves one each for us, Michael. I want you to get on +the far side. Stop anybody you find. If there’s any serious difficulty +or you see Samar, fire a couple of rounds in the air and we’ll +concentrate on that spot.” + +“I fancy we’re too late,” said Armourer between his teeth--and +selected his man. “Cheerio, everybody!” + +Suddenly, as they stole to their posts through smoke that enveloped +them like a choking fog, two shots rang out. + +The professor, his eyes streaming, charged into Armourer. Both sat +down heavily. + +The magistrate was on his feet in an instant. + +“Who the devil was that?” + +“Me,” responded the professor blandly. “Don’t do anything rash. I’ve +lost my fellows already in the confounded smoke. Give me a hand.” + +The other groped for his arm and pulled him up. + +“Did you fire?” asked Standen. + +“No. I fancy it was Battiscombe. It seemed to come from that +direction. Come on!” + +The pall shifted, and at that moment every object in the tiny clearing +stood out as in the light of day. + +Battiscombe was standing quite close to the house, with his man a bare +yard behind him. Vance had just appeared from the trees. A figure, +that had lain hidden behind a fallen portion of the structure, started +suddenly to its feet and--in that fleeting second--Armourer recognised +Abu-Samar. He carried a large basket, held together by a strap, and a +portion of it appeared to be smouldering. He drew himself very erect +and stood, immobile as an ebony statue, against a background of living +flame. An arm shot upward as if in splendid defiance--and the smoke +descended again, blotting out everything. + +Battiscombe fired again--three rounds in quick succession--and +Kuraman, dropping to one knee, emptied his magazine into the darkness. + +There followed a wild, chaotic stampede, a pause for breath in the +immediate vicinity of the furnace--and a scattered sortie into the +night-shrouded forest. + +An hour or so later they collected round Kuraman’s lamp. + +“That fellow bears a charmed life,” declared Battiscombe, gasping for +breath. + +“A very amusing evening,” conceded Vance; “but, from your point of +view, a decided washout.” + +Armourer counted the shadowy figures that constituted the group +carefully. + +“One missing,” he declared. “Who is it?” + +“The professor,” said the planter again. “I saw him a minute ago, +grubbing at something in the ruins.” + +Standen joined them at that moment. His face, when they could get a +glimpse at it, was blacker than Kuraman’s, and he smiled the engaging +smile of a self-satisfied nigger minstrel. + +He thrust a charred bundle up to Armourer’s nose. + +“Smell that!” + +The D.O. sniffed. + +“Unpleasant,” was his immediate verdict,--“very!” + +“Well,” announced Standen, depositing it on the ground and feeling for +his handkerchief, “that’s precisely the same smell as I noticed in +Moberly’s room this afternoon when I went back. This is the basket +Abu-Samar was trying to take with him. There was a good deal of blood +on it when I picked it up and it had been badly trampled. It looks as +if one of you fired pretty accurately. The basket contained a jumbled +mass of crushed glass receptacles and--this.” + +He bent over the charred mess and presently extracted from its +shapeless interior something wrapped in a piece of sacking. + +“Bring the lamp closer,” shouted Battiscombe. + +A moment later they stood in a ragged circle, staring down at an +enormous chrysalis. The professor touched it with his spectacle +case--and the thing moved. + +“You see--it’s alive.” + +“Yes,” muttered Vance, “it’s alive all right, but----” + +Standen surveyed them all in turn. + +“I have every reason to believe, gentlemen,” he declared, as if +delivering a lecture to a crowd of interested students, “that this is +our friend the crimson butterfly--in embryo!” + + + + + CHAPTER XIV. + At Vance’s Place + +Vance’s bungalow being the nearest, the party repaired there for a +clean-up. + +The planter was reaching down the decanter when Armourer spoke. + +“What made you ferret out that basket, professor?” + +Standen, who had been carrying the bundle with him all over the house, +as if chary of trusting it with anybody, raised his eyes. + +“I happen to be blessed with a peculiarly keen sense of smell,” he +declared. “When that black fellow passed me this afternoon, I caught a +faint suggestion of something sickly and unpleasant. I did not pay +serious attention to it at the time, but a recurrence of apparently +the same odour in Moberly’s bedroom set me thinking. It would hardly +be true to say that I suspected Abu-Samar from that moment, but there +was just a shadowy notion at the back of my mind that he might in some +way be connected with the mystery. He seemed peculiarly anxious, if +you remember, to obtain possession of the butterfly ornament about +which he said Mrs. Battiscombe was raving.” + +Battiscombe started. + +“What’s that?” he demanded sharply. + +Armourer flushed. + +“You must recollect, Jim, that we all imagined Abu-Samar was genuinely +a doctor. Macnally was away. Standen was at my place. We had a dead +man and a sick woman and a devil of a mystery confronting us. Trevor +suggested Samar. In the end we sent for both of them--and Samar +attended Mrs. Battiscombe.” + +“You don’t mean to tell me you sent that man in to my wife--_alone_?” + +“No,” jerked out Vance. “I was there too--trying to bring her round.” + +“You were there all the time?” + +The planter looked at the ceiling. + +“Most of it. I certainly came out for a bit to tell the others how she +was; but I was never far away from the door.” + +Battiscombe bit his thumb. + +“Go on, professor. Tell us a little more about your line of +reasoning.” + +Standen adjusted his spectacles. + +“Samar was the only person outside the charmed circle who knew Mr. +Moberly was dead, the only one of whom we knew. There might have been +others whom we didn’t know, but I was not prepared to take that into +account. You see, I couldn’t take my mind from that smell. Then we +embarked upon our little expedition. Abu-Samar, surprised by the +swiftness of our approach and fully aware that the odds were against +him, emerged from the burning building clinging desperately to that +basket. I judged it to be of vital importance to him, or he would have +relinquished it in his flight. Anxious to put my theory to the test, I +concentrated on the basket. It had been discarded almost immediately +after we all saw it and a heavy beam had fallen right across it, so +that I had great difficulty in extricating it. I found traces of there +having been other chrysalids--or _pupæ_, each apparently enclosed in +little bamboo cages, which were unfortunately crushed beyond +recognition. How this particular specimen managed to survive I am +unable to explain. I discovered it fully a yard from the basket +itself, and my attention was called to it by its writhing, spasmodic +movement. I hadn’t even been looking for a chrysalis; but it was +merely a matter of seconds before I had realised the possible +importance of my discovery.” + +Battiscombe stared at him aghast. + +“But you don’t suggest he breeds the damn’ things?” + +“I don’t suggest anything. Chrysalids vary considerably in their +duration of quiescence, and we may have to be patient for quite a long +while before the actual butterfly breaks through its shell. If indeed +it does prove to be the Crimson Butterfly, we shall be faced with +another problem. We shall have to consider how it is that Abu-Samar +happens to be the sole possessor of specimens of this sort.” + +Vance rested his elbows on the table. Now that the excitement of the +chase had worn off, he was once more a victim of acute depression. + +“And the pendant?” he asked. “How do you fit that in?” + +The professor shrugged his shoulders. + +“I must frankly confess that this particular point baffles me +completely. You must not yet lose sight of the fact that the presence +of the ornament on Moberly’s table may be sheer coincidence.” + +“I’m not losing sight of one thing: that Abu-Samar killed Dick +Moberly--and if ever he falls into my hands I pity him!” + +Standen shook his head slowly from side to side. + +“At the present stage, everything is conjecture. If, for example, a +perfectly harmless insect emerges from this _pupa_--the whole +structure upon which my theory is based falls to the ground. If indeed +Samar poisoned Moberly, can anybody suggest a motive?” + +Battiscombe smiled grimly. + +“If he’d poisoned _me_, it’d be far more easily understood. I kicked +him out of my place yesterday--literally, I mean, and he went off +swearing blue murder.” + +“I’m wondering,” said Armourer, “if he meant to kill Dick at all.” + +All eyes turned in his direction. + +“What d’you mean?” asked Vance. + +“Wait a bit and I’ll tell you. Did Dick know Samar?” + +“Yes--a bit.” + +“To what extent?” + +“He used to drop in at the chief’s place sometimes, principally, I +imagine, to try and persuade him to employ him for the coolies.” + +“Which, of course, Dick declined to do?” + +“Yes; but,” Vance added hastily, “there was never any row about it. +The chief could be very diplomatic when he chose. He explained that he +was the manager only and had to take his instructions from London. He +also pointed out, I believe, that Macnally was the official doctor and +would naturally resent any such appointment, even if it were in Dick’s +power to make it.” + +Armourer shot a side glance at his colleague. + +“I may have to ask a couple of questions about Mrs. Battiscombe. Do +you mind?” + +A look of pain crossed Battiscombe’s face. + +“All right. Carry on.” + +“Was Mrs. Battiscombe ever at Dick’s place when any of these +interviews took place?” + +“It’s not unlikely. She was there fairly often.” + +“You can’t say for certain?” + +“No.” + +The magistrate drummed on the table with his fingers. + +“About that pendant. You’ve never set eyes on it before yesterday, +Jim?” + +Battiscombe shook his head. + +“Never; but you mustn’t lay too much stress on that, because Vera +tells me I never notice anything!” + +“A common feminine delusion with regard to their male associates,” +murmured the professor. + +“I’m wondering,” pursued Armourer, “whether it could be possible that +Samar, wanting to get a dig in at Battiscombe, gave the pendant to +Moberly, knowing that he would send it to Mrs. Battiscombe.” + +“Meaning the intended victim to be _me_,” chimed in his senior. + +“That’s what I was trying to get at. You see, professor, I’ve learnt +this evening that Abu-Samar has been suspected of poisoning a good +many people, and always, it appears, in a distinctly mysterious +manner. Battiscombe can give you the details in full, if you want +them. I don’t know how you scientists regard Oriental magic, but we +just ordinary folk cling fondly to the notion that there’s possibly +something in it. Probably we’re wrong, but there remains just a +sporting chance that we’re not. Abu-Samar is well versed in all these +spectacular tricks in which hypnotism plays a very important part. It +sounds pretty feeble, I admit, but it looks as if the actual butterfly +_followed_ that image!” + +Vance passed a hand across his forehead and yawned. + +“How?” he inquired wearily. + +“Ask me another!--We’ve had to swallow a good deal during the past few +hours, so much in fact that we ought to be in a mood to tackle almost +any possibility.” + +Battiscombe pushed himself out of his chair. + +“We’d better be getting back. Michael, you seem destined to occupy one +of your long chairs to-night; I’d better curl up in another. A great +deal hangs on what Vera has to tell us to-morrow.” + +The professor blinked. + +“If your suggestion is in any way correct,” he remarked, “the next +victim--provided there is to be a next--should be yourself. You’ve +still got that Butterfly, haven’t you?” + +Armourer laughed. + +“Many thanks for your cheery suggestion, professor! As a matter of +fact, I happen to have left it at home.” + +Standen emptied his glass. + +He jerked himself suddenly as if to shift a heavy weight from his +mind. + +“It’s all the purest nonsense imaginable,” he asserted testily, “and I +must be in my dotage to have allowed you even to harbour such a +ridiculous notion; _but_ I shall feel a great deal easier in mind when +we get back.” + +“I hope everything’s all right,” said the planter gloomily, with an +inflection that suggested that everything might not be. + +“Don’t be a damn’ fool!” said the professor, and stamped his way down +into the garden. “Good-night, Mr. Vance,” he called back more +pleasantly. “I didn’t want to be rude, but you echoed something I was +imbecile enough to think myself!--Good night!” + + + + + CHAPTER XV. + A Second Victim + +Arnold Trevor--left to his own devices at Jelandang--remained +leaning over the verandah-rail, staring at that black patch in the +trees through which his companions had vanished. + +He who had played an important rôle in the first and second acts of +the drama at Bukit-Serang had been dropped out of the third act +altogether--and he was feeling pretty miserable about it. One of the +least pleasant points of his character--and one which Moberly had +tried vainly to eradicate--was a brooding sense of injustice, and as +he gazed now into the blackness that sense came uppermost. + +After all, he argued to himself, it was he who had discovered the body +of the dead planter, noticed the similarity between the mark on +Moberly’s face and the pendant, and accompanied Mrs. Battiscombe to +Armourer’s house. And now, just because he came next below Vance on +the estate pay-roll, he was expected to knuckle under and remain as a +sort of moral support to a couple of women! Vance, who had done +comparatively nothing, was pandered to by everybody. Because he was +gloomy and depressed they had taken him out to dinner and included him +in the expedition against Abu-Samar; though for the life of him Trevor +could not see what Vance had to be gloomy about at all. Moberly was +dead. From a purely sentimental point of view, it was a rotten +business; but, looking facts in the face, it was an extraordinarily +good thing for Vance. He would be manager now, with a substantial +increase in salary and sundry fat bonuses tacked on to it, while +he--Trevor--was by no means certain of being promoted to first +assistant. He had seen fellows skipped over before. + +He dropped his last cigarette-end into space and turned in search of +one from Armourer’s store. + +There was a table under the swinging oil-lamp, and on it, arranged +there by the magistrate’s servant, all the after-dinner comforts the +bungalow could offer. In the immediate vicinity, piled with faded +cushions, reposed a long cane chair, and curled up at ease on the +cushions were Armourer’s two terriers. + +Trevor stood for some moments, looking down at them, and gradually the +frown vanished from his forehead. Even the dogs appeared to realise +that he was only second assistant at Bukit-Serang and therefore didn’t +count for much! In spite of himself, he laughed aloud. He was still +smiling when Joyce came from her room. + +“I was so sorry to have to leave you all alone,” she said, “but my +patient was restless. She seems quieter now. Why don’t you sit down?” + +He pointed to the chair. + +“They won’t let me!” + +She ran past him and fell on her knees. + +“The darlings! Aren’t they just adorable!--And you hadn’t the heart to +turn them out?” + +Trevor shook his head. + +“They looked so jolly comfortable. What’s he call them?” + +“Mac and Mick,” returned Joyce promptly. “The one that’s looking out +of the corners of his eyes is Mick. He knows he oughtn’t to be there.” + +Trevor rested his hands on his hips. + +“What are we going to do about it?” + +She glanced to the far end of the verandah. + +“There are other chairs, you know.” + +He fetched a couple and arranged on one of them all the cushions that +were not in actual occupation. + +“I don’t think I want all these,” said Joyce. + +The man laughed. + +“Well, I’m sure I don’t. D’you mind if I have a whisky?” + +“Not in the least.” + +She noticed the condition of the decanter. + +“You don’t mean to tell me this is your first?” + +“Absolutely.” + +“Isn’t that rather remarkable.” + +“It is; but I was feeling fed to the teeth and didn’t notice it was +there.” + +Joyce sat down. + +“I knew there must be some explanation,” she declared. + +He passed over the tin. + +“Do you smoke?” + +“Sometimes; but I won’t have one now, thank you. I wonder when they’ll +be back.” + +“Heaven only knows. If they find their quarry at home they might be +here any time now; if they have to go and look for him they may be +hours. I don’t know what to make of this Samar business. He seemed +harmless enough in all conscience; but I suppose Battiscombe knows +what he’s doing.” + +Joyce was stroking Mick’s ear. + +“It’s been an exciting day.” + +“It has. That confounded butterfly appears to have been responsible +for an entire upheaval of everything. I suppose we _shall_ settle down +into a normal way of living again! D’you know, I just loathed being +left behind here.” + +“What a compliment to me!” + +“Oh, I didn’t mean it in that way. Besides, you were occupied with +Mrs. Battiscombe and it looked as if I should have to muck about out +here alone. I felt as if somebody had taken me to the top of a big +hill, and then deliberately pushed me over. There were all sorts of +queer things in the air and I had to be content with disconnected +fragments of news and half-baked theories. But until they dumped me +here I _was_ in the picture. Now the fun’s all shifted to Abu’s +place--and I’m bang out of it.” + +She picked up the nearest terrier bodily and dropped it into her lap. + +“I don’t see that you’ve anything to grumble about,” she retorted. “I +like adventure too--and I’m left to tend the sick and wounded! You’ve +had half-truths told you--while I know nothing. Mr. Trevor, would you +be guilty of a very serious indiscretion if you told Mickie and me +about the butterfly?” + +Trevor grinned. + +“I’ll tell Mickie after you’ve turned in for the night, and he can use +his own doggy discretion as to how much he divulges in the morning.” + +She pouted. + +“Meaning that you don’t think I can keep a secret.” + +He sat down. + +“I don’t know that there’s very much to be secret about. How much do +you know already?” + +She uttered a deep sigh. + +“I know that daddy chased a big red butterfly across Mr. Moberly’s +estate this morning----” + +“Anything else?” + +“And that Mr. Moberly’s dead and that Mr. Armourer is anxious to learn +what Mrs. Battiscombe may say in her delirium about butterflies----” + +“Has she said anything?” + +“Nothing very important. Sometimes she feels her throat and murmurs +something about a crimson butterfly. Once she caught my hand while I +was bending over her and held it hard. I had had fever patients before +and so the look in her eyes didn’t startle me. ‘I am a goddess,’ she +said--‘and my kiss is death!’ The poor dear hadn’t the least notion +what she was talking about.” + +He stared at her so hard that she felt embarrassed. + +“You are sure she said that?” + +“Oh, yes. Mr. Armourer asked me to put down everything in writing--and +I did.” + +He shook his head. + +“Her kiss was death, all right!” he muttered. “Lord! I wonder how much +she really knows!” + +A hand fell on his sleeve. + +“Mr. Trevor, you are not suggesting that she had anything to do with +Mr. Moberly’s death?” + +He moved uncomfortably. + +Joyce Standen was a singularly attractive woman, and he found it +difficult to refuse her the information she sought. It occurred to him +that if Armourer had wanted her to know he would have told her +himself. Perhaps, he decided, it would be better to wait until he had +seen either the magistrate or Vance. The thought of these two men +brought back the old grievance. They hadn’t troubled to consider +him--either of them. + +“Look here,” he announced presently, “I’ll tell you as much as there +is to tell, but you must promise not to breathe a word of it to +anybody. The butterfly your father saw wasn’t a proper butterfly. It +was a poisonous bug of some sort and it killed Moberly. It left a mark +on him--as if the creature was all sting, like a jelly-fish. Mrs. +Battiscombe had been a great friend of Dick Moberly’s and had sent him +back a ruby ornament on a chain. We found this ornament near Dick when +he died. It was a butterfly and was shaped so like the mark on +Moberly’s face that it did set us wondering. Mrs. Battiscombe rode +over, saw the mark on his cheek, murmured something about a crimson +butterfly and fainted. Ever since then a lot of idiots in a much +clearer state of mind than Mrs. Battiscombe have been babbling +nonsense about butterflies and native charms and heaven knows what. +It’s getting quite a disease--like malaria; just when you think you’ve +cured yourself of it--it crops up again. When you appeared just now +I’d decided once and for all that the _ju-ju_ business was bunkum; and +then you set the old idea working again by mentioning Mrs. +Battiscombe’s remark about goddesses and death. It is rubbish, of +course, but there’s a rotten under-current beneath all this that I +neither understand nor like. I shall be glad when it’s morning again +and we have some clean, fresh air to inhale.” + +He emptied his glass. + +“Thank you,” she said quietly. “It was rotten of me to make you tell +me; but I did so want to know. And this expedition to-night is merely +a side-issue; it has really nothing to do with the affair of this +afternoon?” + +“Nothing whatever, as far as I know. If you lived out here long you’d +get used to this sort of business. Nothing happens for months on end +and then we may have half-a-dozen exciting incidents in a week. I +expect the Commissioner’s had his eye on Abu-Samar for a long time.” + +She started. + +“What was that?” + +He looked back over his shoulder. + +“Only Mai-Heng moving about in Armourer’s room. He’s late to-night, +but we were six at dinner, you know, and I imagine he’s had his work +cut out to get through.” + +He remained for some moments, listening. + +“Mai-Heng!” he called. + +For answer there came from the magistrate’s bedroom a peculiar +gurgling noise and something crashed heavily to the floor. + +They came to their feet together. + +“Stop where you are, Miss Standen. I don’t suppose it’s anything.” + +He threw open the door. + +As he did so, something as large as a bat brushed his ear and flew +past him on to the verandah. + +The room was in darkness and, feeling his way across it, his toe +kicked against something soft. He struck a match and dropped on his +knees beside the lifeless form of Armourer’s cook-boy. + +Mai-Heng lay on his back, a hurricane-lamp with a broken chimney at +his side. His arms were above his head, his singlet open at the top, +and across his dark chest was the sign of the Crimson Butterfly. + +The match burned out, and Trevor, with trembling fingers, fumbled for +another. + +A second inspection of the dead servant revealed that he held the +pendant in his left hand, its chain of gold filigree trailing across +the floor. + + + + + CHAPTER XVI. + The Butterfly Returns + +Trevor rose from his knees to find Joyce at the doorway. + +He could see that she was pale and trembling. + +“Is anything the matter?” she asked. + +He controlled himself with an effort. + +“Nothing much,” he declared firmly. “Mai-Heng’s met with an accident. +D’you mind just slipping down the passage to the back entrance and +calling for an orderly.” + +She hesitated. + +“Where is Mai-Heng?--I don’t see him.” + +Trevor bit his lip. + +“Of course you can’t see him,” he returned with some irritation. “I’ve +got him here--on the floor behind the table--and the lamp’s gone +_phut_.” + +“I’ll bring you a light.” + +“Don’t bother now, please. I’ll fix that while you’re away.” + +She came a step towards him, peering fearfully into the darkness. + +“Mr. Trevor, if there’s been an accident, surely I can do something +for the poor fellow. I’m used to nursing, you know.” + +He took her by both arms and pushed her gently from the room on to the +verandah, closing the door after him. + +“I hate to seem to order you about, Miss Standen; but I want one of +Armourer’s men at once.” + +“Is he unconscious?” + +“Yes.” + +She stood for some seconds regarding him steadily, then went slowly +towards the head of the passage. She turned suddenly, a faint smile +hovering on her lips. + +“You’ll have to go,” she declared. “I can’t speak a word of Malay.” + +He made a noise with his tongue against the roof of his mouth. + +“I hadn’t thought of that. All right, you stop here--and mind, I don’t +want you to go into that room. Mai-Heng was never an over-clean +specimen of humanity--and as he is now he might easily frighten you. +Will you promise?” + +“Very well.” + +He could see that she gave her consent reluctantly, and feared, from +the troubled look behind her dark eyes, that she had already her +suspicions as to the actual state of affairs. + +He was on his way back from the men’s quarters when a piercing scream +broke upon the stillness of the Eastern night. + +He completed the rest of the distance at breakneck speed. + +In the passage-way he cursed himself for an abject idiot. One of a +score of ghastly things might have occurred in his absence, and his +only sane line of action under the circumstances should have been to +have taken her with him. + +He was considerably relieved to discover her half fainting in a chair, +staring as if hypnotised at something on the wall beyond the +lamplight. + +He bent over her. + +“It was you who screamed?” + +She nodded. + +“You opened that door.” + +She began talking rapidly, excitedly. + +“No, no, I didn’t even go near the room. I stood quite still just +where you had left me, trying to regain my nerve. I was frightened, +horribly frightened; the shadows frightened me… the awful silence… +everything. Presently I gritted my teeth and forced myself to do +something. I remembered that the others should be on their way back +and walked to the rail to look for them. The moon had gone in, and +there was nothing there but blackness. You can _feel_ the blackness +out here. I heard a voice--your voice, shouting something, and decided +to go and meet you. As I passed the lamp an enormous insect fluttered +down from the ceiling and circled round it. There had been scores of +things flying there before, but they all vanished when _it_ came. +Something made me stop. I saw its outline at first and thought it was +a huge moth; and then I realised it was a butterfly--and saw that it +was red! I just flopped back into the first chair I could find and +screamed at the top of my voice.” + +He turned his head sharply. + +“A red butterfly!” he muttered hoarsely. “You must be mistaken. They +don’t fly at night, you know, even out here.” + +She pointed at the wall. + +“I tell you I saw it quite plainly. It was the creature you told me +about--the one my father described this afternoon. It’s over there +now--don’t you see it?” + +She clutched at his arm and a cold sensation passed down his spine. + +He had never quite understood until that moment how peculiarly +contagious fear was. With Mai-Heng lying there and the memory of +something unpleasant brushing his cheek, Armourer’s bungalow had +suddenly become a house of horrors. For a matter of moments he +remained rooted to the spot, an invisible--yet impassable--barrier +between him and the far wall. + +The approach of the magistrate’s men brought him to his senses and he +cast a sidelong glance at Joyce, praying that this momentary lapse had +passed unnoticed. + +The two black soldiers shuffled on to the verandah buttoning up their +coats and looking profoundly uncomfortable. One of them carried a +lamp. + +“Go into the _Tuan-Hakim’s_ room,” Trevor commanded. “You will find +Mai-Heng there. Carry him out by the other door and put him in any +shed that happens to be empty. Cover him up with a blanket or +something.” + +The fact that Joyce did not understand Malay had its advantages. + +The men saluted and passed into the darkness, leaving the door ajar. + +Trevor shut it deliberately. + +He heard them moving about inside, a volley of startled exclamations +and fragments of a prolonged consultation that ensued almost +immediately after. One of them said something about a blanket and a +door opened somewhere. + +A remark from the girl roused him to action. + +“It’s crawling up the wall,” she cried. “Look!” + +His glance fell upon the butterfly net that Gholam-Singh had made for +the professor. He plucked it from the shelf upon which it lay and +hooked a small chair through the living-room doorway. + +Joyce was on her feet now. + +“Do be careful,” she implored. + +“I mean to be,” he said between his teeth; “but, in case I miss, +hadn’t you better go in to Mrs. Battiscombe? You’d be safer there.” + +The colour had come back to her cheeks, and in the light from the lamp +she looked infinitely beautiful. + +“I’m not afraid--now,” she told him, “and I want to be of use, if I +can. Don’t send me away.” + +Trevor reflected. + +“All right,” he said at length. “There’s Armourer’s tennis racquet +over there in the corner. Swipe at it with that if it flies towards +you.” + +He placed the chair a couple of feet from the wall and mounted it. + +Joyce possessed herself of the racquet and watched breathlessly. + +The insect had crawled into the angle the ceiling made with the wall, +a position that presented difficulties. She removed the shade from the +lamp and the creature showed up clearly against the woodwork. She +could plainly discern the thin black body, the fat fleshy wings and +the long antennæ that moved restlessly. + +It was the green eyes of the thing, however, that were disconcerting +Trevor. They seemed to be surveying his every movement with an +interest that was at once almost human and distinctly inhuman. He was +aware of a sense of fear, a feeling of acute nausea and an unpleasant, +pungent odour. + +To the girl it seemed countless ages before he brought back his arm +and the net with it, remained motionless, as if taking careful aim, +and brought the frame of the contrivance against the boarding. + +The uppermost edge of the frame scraped against the ceiling and Trevor +hit a couple of inches too low on the wall. A fraction of the body +remained imprisoned for a fleeting second, and before he could make +the necessary movement to ensure his capture the insect had struggled +free and fluttered off into the night. + +“Damn!” + +Not knowing why, Joyce laughed. + +“Rotten luck!” she commented. + +He stepped from the chair, regarding the net ruefully. + +“A jolly bad shot,” he insisted. “I might have known the ceiling would +baulk me. Where’s it gone now?” + +She pointed into the darkness. + +“Out there.” She contrived to speak easily. “Anyhow, you’ve driven it +away.” + +He put the chair back in its place and threw the net on to the table. + +“There is that consolation, I suppose; but I was a blithering idiot to +miss, all the same. Must have lost my nerve at the critical moment.” + +He unstoppered the decanter. + +“Ugh! The thing smelt horribly!” + +“Smelt?” + +“Yes--worse than a stink-bug, if you’ll excuse the expression. Won’t +you have something to drink? I’m sure you want it.” + +She shook her head. + +“No, thank you very much. I’m afraid the smell of the whisky would +upset me more than that of the butterfly.” + +He poured out three fingers and looked up. + +“There’s some wine knocking about somewhere.” + +“Don’t bother to look for it, please. I really don’t want it. The only +thing I ask is not to be left alone. Look at the dogs. When you went +into the bedroom I put Mick back in the chair--and neither of them has +moved a hair. Do sit down. I want to talk to you.” + +Trevor smiled. + +“The Oracle is ready,” he said, “and there is absolutely no charge!” + +Joyce frowned. + +“That was the crimson butterfly,” she declared. + +“I believe so.” + +She bent forward. + +“Was it that that caused Mai-Heng’s _accident_?” + +Trevor emptied his glass. When he looked up at her again his face was +flushed. + +“You ought to go in for law,” he said; “you’d make a charming and +efficient barrister!” + +“But you haven’t answered my question.” + +He racked his brains for an evasive reply. + +“I don’t think it wise for any of us to jump to conclusions until +we’ve had a look at Mai-Heng in the morning.” + +“You didn’t send for a doctor.” + +“No, because there isn’t one available at the moment.” + +She looked straight into his eyes. + +“Mr. Trevor, why take such elaborate precautions to try and deceive +me? Why didn’t you let me help you with Mr. Armourer’s servant?--why +were you so anxious to keep me from that room? I have all my senses, +you know, and a woman’s intuition thrown in. I know that Mai-Heng is +dead--and that he died as Mr. Moberly died this afternoon. It’s true, +isn’t it?” + +The assistant rubbed his chin. + +“Mai-Heng is dead,” he admitted, “but as to how he met his end--that’s +a doctor’s affair, not mine. D’you mind if we discuss something else.” + +“Not in the least; but I should like to say just one thing. I’m out +for the defence of my sex now, Mr. Trevor. When you told me about the +other affair you seemed inclined to associate Mrs. Battiscombe with +the crimson butterfly.” + +“Did I?” + +“Well, you did, didn’t you? You told me that the _ju-ju_ theory was +all nonsense, but the male in you wouldn’t allow you to exonerate Mrs. +Battiscombe entirely from blame. Now this second tragedy proves her +innocence conclusively. Her ornament--which you found near Mr. Moberly +when he died--could not possibly have been near that wretched +Chinaman.” + +Trevor was conscious of a tremendous inward struggle. + +“No,” he conceded lamely, “it couldn’t, could it?” + +At that moment one of Armourer’s men appeared at the opening and +stood, his hands clasped behind him, waiting for someone to notice +him. + +“What is it?” demanded Trevor. + +The native came forward. + +“It is this, _Tuan_,” he stammered. “When we carried Mai-Heng away we +did not see it; but we felt it as we put him down. It was fixed +between the fingers.” + +Joyce, bending forward excitedly, saw a ruby ornament on a gold chain +pass from the soldier’s grubby brown hand to Trevor’s palm. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII. + A Strange Phenomenon + +Trevor looked at Joyce and there was a wealth of meaning in his +eyes. + +He waved his hand to indicate to the orderly that the interview was at +an end and remained silent until he was out of hearing. + +“How does the counsel for the defence feel now?” + +The girl winced. + +“Rotten!” she returned; “decidedly rotten. You might have told me.” + +He shook his head. + +“Looking back a bit, I fancy I’ve already told you more than I ought; +certainly more than is good for you. Now you can realise something of +the nature of the shock I suffered when I tumbled across Mai-Heng--and +_that_.” + +His fingers touched the Butterfly pendant. + +“It must have been terrible.” + +“It was pretty ghastly.” + +“You can’t complain you’ve been left out of the excitement now. I +don’t suppose the others have encountered anything half so thrilling.” + +Trevor grunted. + +“I’ve had enough thrills for one evening, thank you!--A little of this +sort of thing goes a long way. Armourer’ll be mighty sick when he +hears about Mai-Heng.” + +“Do you think he meant to steal the pendant?” + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +“I scarcely know what to think. Armourer’s discarded clothing was +lying all over the floor, and it’s just possible he left the Butterfly +in a pocket and Mai-Heng had only that moment discovered it. Whichever +way it was, his luck was badly out.” + +He rested his elbows on the table and buried his head in his hands. + +“I haven’t the remotest idea what it all means,” he announced +suddenly; “have you?” + +“How should I?” + +“No, that’s just it. How should anybody? This cursed charm appears to +be at the bottom of the trouble.” + +She glanced at it apprehensively. + +“We’re back to where we started--back to the _ju-ju_ business again. +It is like the real butterfly, you know, only much smaller and, of +course, more transparent. I simply adore that chain.” + +“It’s pretty enough.” + +He picked it up and examined the workmanship minutely. + +The girl’s eyes sparkled. + +“You can’t imagine any sensible woman refusing a gift like that.” + +Trevor blinked. + +“How d’you know it was a gift. She might have bought it.” + +Joyce smiled. + +“Women like Mrs. Battiscombe don’t have to buy pretty things; there is +always somebody ready to buy them for them.” + +“Why only women like Mrs. Battiscombe?” + +The girl coloured slightly. + +“Oh, I don’t know. She’s just a type. The majority of women won’t +accept presents of that sort from just any man.” + +“And you suggest that she does?” + +“I suppose that was rather a catty thing to say, and not at all +consistent with my defence-of-the-sex idea; but I don’t claim to be +any more consistent than most other women. Everybody in Jesselton was +talking about her when we arrived.” + +Trevor allowed the links of the filigree chain to fall from one hand +to the other. + +“There are only about three topics of conversation out here at the +moment--and one of them’s Vera Battiscombe. Between ourselves, Miss +Standen, you’re perfectly right. We were all of us pretty sick at the +hold she was getting over Dick Moberly and the way she was letting +Battiscombe down. She carried Dick off, so to speak, under the nose of +Mrs. Moberly, and the latter, apparently unable to talk Dick back into +a sensible frame of mind, cleared out altogether. Poor old Dick!” + +“I suppose there was a little jealousy too?” + +“Not so far as we were concerned,” he hastened to inform her. +“Speaking personally, I’m not inclined to be any too keen on a woman +who makes all the running herself. That’s where Moberly was weak. A +pretty woman had only to take notice of him and he’d go bang off the +deep end.” + +“And you think Mr. Moberly gave her this pendant?” + +“She sent it back to him with a lot of other things, so I suppose he +did.” + +“Then why and where did the real butterfly come in?” + +Trevor threw up his hands. + +“Ask me another!” He glanced at his watch. “Jove! they’re late! I +wonder if they’ve struck any snags.” + +Joyce was not to be thrown off the main topic of conversation so +easily. + +“Oughtn’t we to do something to prevent the butterfly coming back?” + +Trevor wrinkled his forehead. + +“I don’t suppose it’ll want to after that swipe I gave it.” + +“There may be others.” + +He shuddered. + +“Don’t let’s get too morbid. I was just lulling myself to sleep with +the thought that our friend was a rare and unique specimen.” + +“Can’t we do something with it?” + +She was looking at the pendant. + +“We’ll have to keep it until Armourer comes back, otherwise I should +suggest burying it as far away from any human habitation as possible.” + +Joyce nestled back in the cushions and sighed. + +“Doesn’t it seem a pity?--to have to bury a beautiful creation like +that? It’s so wonderful, so utterly unusual. I know a dozen women at +home who would cheerfully risk the trail of tragedy it seems to drag +after it only to possess it. And it’s got to be stuck in the ground +and have nasty damp earth stamped all over it!” + +A perfectly obvious retort occurred to Trevor, but he refrained from +expressing it. + +“It’s an uncomfortable possession,” he said instead, and tossed the +thing deliberately into the farthest corner of the verandah. “I don’t +know that even that is a safe precaution against following in the +footsteps of Moberly and Mai-Heng; but I feel a great deal more happy +with it at a distance.” + +“It happens to be outside my door,” she reminded him. + +“I don’t think that matters very much. It’s closed--and the others are +bound to want to look at it again when they hear what’s happened.” + +He stared into the night. + +“Hello! there’s a light at last. They’ll be here in a few minutes.” + +Both the terriers pricked up their ears, shook themselves and plunged, +barking, down the stairs. + +Trevor rubbed his hands together and smiled queerly. + +“Wonderful thing, a crowd, Miss Standen! It’s difficult to imagine +what any or all of ’em could do if the butterfly rolled up again; but +the arrival of a bunch like that undoubtedly promotes a sense of +security!” + +He crossed to the stair-head and Joyce joined him there. + +Making a megaphone of his hands, he called: + +“Hullo, there!--Are you all right?” + +A faint cry floated back to them. + +The girl glanced at her companion. + +“Who was that?” + +“Armourer, I fancy.” + +“What did he say?” + +“I didn’t catch; but the tone sounded cheery. I wonder if they’ve +brought the black gentleman with them. Judging from the time they’ve +been away, they ought to have arrested an entire village!” + +Something made her turn her head. She clutched at Trevor’s arm with +both hands. + +“What is it?” + +His eyes followed the direction of her gaze. + +“An arm,” she whispered fearfully, “a white arm came through the +doorway and went back again.” + +He laughed uneasily. + +“Which doorway?” + +“The far one--my room, you know--and the pendant’s gone!” + +He went a couple of paces and bent down, staring at the floor. + +“So it has, by Jove!” + +She clung to the rail for support. + +“What do you think it was?” + +“Mrs. Battiscombe walking in her sleep.” + +“But why did she take the Butterfly? She couldn’t possibly have known +it was there.” + +“One wouldn’t imagine so.” + +She leaned back, gasping for breath. + +“It’s horrible! I’m so glad the others are here.” + +“Here, pull yourself together,” said Trevor sternly. “You’ve got to go +into that room and find out what’s happened.” + +“I daren’t.” + +“I’m coming with you. It’s no use waiting about for the rest. If it +was Mrs. Battiscombe, so much the better. She has had the thing +before--and nothing killed _her_. There’s just the faintest chance it +might be somebody else--and I rather hope it is. It’d help to clear up +a lot of things.” + +He tip-toed across the verandah and opened the door to its fullest +extent. The lamp was still burning within, and, on a bed at the far +end, he could just make out the outline of a slumbering woman behind +mosquito-curtains. + +He beckoned to Joyce. + +“Come on. There’s nobody here. I want you to draw back those +curtains.” + +She looked past him, like a frightened child peering into a dark +cupboard and fearful of bogies, then walked towards the bed. + +They stood presently side by side, gazing down at the sleeping form of +Vera Battiscombe. + +There was not a sign that she had stirred. + +She was breathing regularly, there was a healthy colour on her cheeks, +and the soft fair curls encircled her head like a wondrous halo. + +Joyce uttered a little cry and pointed to her throat. + +The filigree chain was clasped securely round her neck and the Crimson +Butterfly nestled in the gossamer folds above a gently heaving bosom. + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII. + The Professor Changes His Views + +The verandah was empty when the three men came clattering up the +steps in their heavy boots with the terriers yapping excitedly at +their heels. + +Battiscombe dropped into a chair. + +He caught Michael’s eye. + +“Well, the place is still here!” + +Armourer stretched his weary limbs. + +“Yes, it’s here right enough, as you say. How do you feel, professor?” + +The professor was peering round him anxiously. + +“Pretty fit, thanks. I don’t think I shall be altogether sorry when +I’m in bed.” + +Battiscombe looked at his feet. + +“Lord! we’re in an unholy mess! That was your precious short cut from +Vance’s, Michael! Kuraman warned you there might be swamps at that end +of the valley.” + +His colleague laughed. + +“I was badly out there,” he admitted. “Well, I suppose it’s a quick +drink and bed. Wonder where Trevor is.” + +Joyce appeared suddenly at the doorway of her room, followed by the +second assistant. + +She ran to her father. + +“I’m so glad you’ve all got back safely. We were beginning to wonder +what had happened. We’ve had a perfectly ghastly time since you left.” + +She bent down and kissed his forehead. + +“What’s been the matter?” he asked. + +She looked back at Trevor. + +“You’d better tell them, hadn’t you?” + +Trevor walked up to Armourer. + +“I’ve a piece of bad news for you,” he said. “Your +servant--Mai-Heng--has been killed by the crimson butterfly.” + +All three started and Battiscombe sprang to his feet. + +“What’s that?” + +The planter passed a weary hand across his forehead. + +“Mai-Heng is dead. I found him in there”--he pointed to Armourer’s +room. “He had unearthed that confounded ornament from somewhere and I +found it between his fingers.” + +Armourer shot a glance at Battiscombe. + +“I told you I’d left it in my clothes. + +“When I opened the door,” pursued Trevor, “the butterfly flew past me +and frightened Miss Standen. I tried to kill it, but missed--and it +flew away. The pendant didn’t seem to be a pleasant sort of thing to +carry about with one, so I chucked it into a corner. The next thing +that happened was a white arm groping through a doorway for it. This +fresh development rather staggered us. By the time we’d gathered our +wits together, the chain had somehow found its way round Mrs. +Battiscombe’s neck--and the queer thing is that she looks as fit as a +fiddle.” + +The professor was fidgeting with his glasses. + +“It’s really very remarkable,” he murmured to himself. “You’re quite +certain in your own mind that you actually saw the insect? You’ll +pardon my asking an apparently foolish question, but quite a number of +queer bugs fly about on a tropic night--and it would be perfectly +simple to make a mistake.” + +Joyce shook her head. + +“We weren’t mistaken, daddy. It crawled up the wall and stayed there +for some time.” + +“And Mai-Heng died with the Butterfly pendant in his hand?” + +“Yes,” said Trevor, “and the same peculiar mark was across his chest.” + +Battiscombe, who had been pondering deeply, asked the next question. + +“And you say that my wife got up from her bed and picked the thing +from the floor?” + +“I don’t,” retorted Trevor. “I can only tell you the facts exactly as +they happened. Miss Standen saw the arm and we both found the +Butterfly at Mrs. Battiscombe’s throat. She was lying much as Miss +Standen had left her, the curtains were tucked in all round the bed; +there was nothing in fact to indicate that she had moved.” + +“It couldn’t get there by itself.” + +“I know that.” + +“If my wife did take it, how did she know it was there on the floor +close by the door of her room?” + +“How did she know it was in the house at all?” interposed Armourer. + +“She couldn’t have known, unless she had listened; and she couldn’t +very well have listened because she was ill. Anyhow, the thing’s round +her neck and any of you who want to can see it for yourselves.” + +Battiscombe emitted a deep sigh. + +“And to think that we let Abu-Samar slip through our fingers!” + +Trevor stared. + +“What the dickens has Abu-Samar to do with it?” + +Armourer tapped out his pipe. + +“Everything, apparently.” + +“But he hasn’t been near the place.” + +Battiscombe reached over the decanter. + +“Trevor hasn’t heard about the latest developments,” he said slowly. +“Heaven knows only what Dr. Abu-Samar has up his sleeve. Among other +things he’s a conjurer--a sort of native magician--and the professor’s +theory is that he breeds those butterflies.” + +Trevor found his hat. + +“This is getting too deep for me,” he complained, “I’m paid by a lot +of niggardly directors in London to plant rubber and there’s a clause +in my contract which says I’m not to interest myself in any other +business. Does anybody know where they put my pony?” + +Armourer stepped between him and the exit. + +“You’re not going back to-night?” + +“You can bet your life I am. It’s close on one now--and I have to be +down in the coolie-lines at five-thirty. Besides, your house isn’t +elastic.” + +“I could fix you up somehow.” + +Trevor shook his head. + +“It isn’t worth the bother; thanks all the same. There’s a good moon +again now and I can be back at my place in under three-quarters of an +hour. If you take my advice, you’ll leave the pendant where it is, and +sleep with your doors and windows closed.” + +“What about Mrs. Battiscombe?” + +Trevor paused on the top step. + +“As I was saying just before you came in, Mrs. Battiscombe’s worn the +charm before--and it didn’t hurt _her_. If that idea doesn’t appeal to +you, you’d better go out and bury it. Good night, everybody!” + +Armourer went down after him. + +“A nice young fellow that!” commented the professor. + +He looked round to see that Joyce had fallen asleep in her chair. + +“She’s had a rough time,” said Battiscombe softly. “You’d better get +her back to Jesselton to-morrow.” + +“She won’t go until Mrs. Battiscombe is better,” declared her father. + +“Then as soon as my wife is fit to be moved we’ll pack them both off +to the coast. This is no place for women at the moment.” + +“The extraordinary thing is,” said the professor, “that until Armourer +brought that wretched talisman here it was one of the most charming +spots it had ever been my good fortune to encounter. I am contriving +now to keep quite an open mind with regard to this peculiar sequence +of events. Until an hour or so ago I must confess I was bigoted. It +seemed so utterly absurd that an inanimate red stone on a gold chain +could have the remotest connection with a poisonous and highly vicious +insect. Mind you, I am not yet prepared to admit that any such +connection exists; but, with this further development fresh in our +minds, it would be the sheerest folly to ignore the apparent +significance of the presence of that ornament in any given place.” + +Battiscombe’s red face bore a troubled expression. + +“And so----?” + +“And so, before we retire to-night, we must follow Trevor’s second +suggestion and bury it somewhere, marking the spot so that we may be +able to find it again.” + +“Why not sling it into a swamp? The thing’s unclean.” + +Standen stroked his beard. + +“No, I shouldn’t suggest that. We may want it again.” + +“I shan’t--for one, and I’m willing to wager that the others will be +glad to see the back of it.” + +The professor suddenly tightened the skin at the back of his left +hand, thus imprisoning a mosquito in the act of stinging him, and +dispatched it smartly with the other. + +“Until the entire mystery is satisfactorily cleared up,” he declared, +“it would be a pity to lose sight of so important a clue.” + +He kicked the charred basket which now reposed at his feet. + +“You forget that an actual specimen of the crimson butterfly has not +yet come into my hands. My chrysalis may produce something quite +harmless, in which case we shall not only be farther from our goal +than ever, but we shall have lost a great deal of valuable time. I +must get a crimson butterfly before I can hope to embark upon my +investigations.” + +“We hope to catch Abu-Samar before long--and my wife may be able to +tell us something in the morning.” + +The older man shook his head sadly. + +“I shouldn’t bank too much on Mrs. Battiscombe’s knowledge, if I were +you. Samar has taken to the backwoods--and Borneo is a big place. +Possibly he has countless friends in the interior who will shield him. +No, Battiscombe, it’s the butterfly we want, and if the ornament can +be employed as a bait for these things, I’m going to use it for all +I’m worth.” + +“It’ll be devilish risky.” + +“Of course. Scientific research is usually dangerous. In the +unearthing of new secrets investigators play with forces concerning +the limits of which they have often not the remotest idea. Still, in +the interests of science and humanity, these risks have to be taken. +If, indeed, Samar breeds these insects, he may one day let them loose +in their thousands, to pick off humanity as the locusts pick off +grain. Without a known antidote we shall be in a terrible position; +and to discover an antidote one must know one’s poison first. I shall +get Armourer to build me a hut in the forest, which I shall endeavour +to equip as a rough laboratory. I shall keep the charm hanging there, +cover the windows with netting and smear the outer walls with what is +commonly known to naturalists as _treacle_. If there is something +about the talisman which attracts this form of insect-life, the +crimson butterfly should obviously be attracted to that spot.” + +Armourer came up the steps. + +“Well, you two conspirators, what about bed?--Professor, you’ve yours +waiting for you. Jimmy and I are going to fix up temporary quarters in +the living-room. It’s a confounded nuisance my man’s gone west, but I +know where I can rope in another in the morning.” + +The professor came to his feet, dusting cigarette ash from the folds +of his tunic. + +“Battiscombe,” he said, “do you mind getting me that pendant before we +wake Joyce? I shall be obliged, Armourer, if you can show me where to +find a spade.” + +Armourer laughed. + +“You’re not going out again.” + +“I am,” Standen assured him. “I’m going to bury the charm before I +turn in.” + +Armourer threw out his arms. + +“Behold!” he cried, “the conversion of an unbeliever!” + + + + + CHAPTER XIX. + An Important Capture + +James Battiscombe stretched himself and yawned. He sat up presently +to find the bright light of early morning shining in through an open +shutter and Armourer’s chair untenanted. + +He looked at his watch. + +It was ten minutes past seven. + +He groped for his tunic, and, slipping it on over the pyjama jacket +his host had provided, padded in bare feet out on to the verandah. + +Armourer--in a somewhat faded bath-gown--had forestalled him and was +leaning on the rail gazing down at the absurd antics of Mick and Mac. +He turned to greet his colleague. + +“Hullo, old son! Feel rested?” + +Battiscombe rubbed his eyes. + +“Don’t know yet. I hope this was an old suit of yours, because I’m +feeling a draught somewhere and I’ve a shrewd suspicion the jacket’s +split down the back.” + +Armourer laughed. + +“You needn’t worry yourself about that. It’s as old as the hills. +Wonderful morning, isn’t it?” + +“Top-hole!” + +He cast an appreciative eye over a rolling and varied landscape. +Beyond the belt of trees through which they had passed the night +before, he caught the vivid green of young paddy, stretching to the +spot where the virgin jungle began. Away over to the right, where new +wire glinted in the sun, he recognised the newly planted rubber of an +estate which had yesterday been under Moberly’s management. To the +right again, placid and incredibly blue, he saw the sea. A group of +natives gesticulated below, a Chinese trader, with his wife as a beast +of burden behind, sauntered stolidly along the path which led +eastward, and a big brown hawk hovered in the heavens. + +“No more tragedies, I suppose?” he added presently. + +Armourer shook his head. + +“No, thank goodness. I looked in on the professor five minutes back, +and tapped on Miss Standen’s door until I got an answer. I’ve taken +the liberty, by the way, of sending one of your men across for your +clothes and shaving kit. Kuraman found a chap who could ride a bit, so +you oughtn’t to have to wait very long.” + +The other beamed. + +“That’s extremely thoughtful of you, Michael, my boy. I was just +wondering what sort of figure I should cut at breakfast. Lord! what a +strenuous day we had yesterday! It makes me ache all over to think of +it. Wonder what the Commissioner will say when he hears about +Abu-Samar!” + +“He’ll have a deal more to say when he learns of the crimson butterfly +business.” + +Battiscombe groaned. + +“I can see a devil of a lot of strenuous work in the offing. He’ll be +popping up all over the place at the most unexpected and inconvenient +moments. We shall be required to send in reports every five minutes. +In short there’ll never be a moment of peace for either of us until +Dr. Abu-Samar has been captured and handed over.” + +An orderly, with tea and green bananas on a tray, came from the back +of the house and set down his burden on the table. + +“Get some biscuits,” ordered Armourer. “You’ll find them in a tin on +the second shelf in the living-room. Yes,” he said to his companion, +“Stewart’s all right when you understand him; and he takes a lot of +understanding.” + +“He’s so beastly energetic,” complained the other. “He ought to have a +little weight to carry about with him. It’d give him a better idea +what tropic life means to some of us!” + +The professor’s door opened and the occupant of the room emerged, clad +in a yellow dressing-gown that had seen much wear and slippers +trampled down at the back. + +“Aha!” he cried; “up with the lark!” + +Armourer was pouring out tea. + +“No, I’m afraid the lark had the better of us this morning. Still, +considering the hour at which we retired, we’ve nothing much to be +ashamed of--Let’s see, professor, you don’t take sugar?” + +“No--and no milk, if you don’t mind.” + +“There’s lemon here.” + +“Thank you, just one slice. That’s excellent! Has anybody heard how +Mrs. Battiscombe is?” + +Battiscombe looked up. + +“We were waiting for you to go in and find out.” + +Standen placed his cup carefully on the table and shuffled to the +door. He rapped on it with his knuckles and a muffled feminine voice +answered. + +“Hullo? what is it?” + +“It is I,” said the professor. “How are you this morning, my dear?” + +“Me? Oh, I’m all right. I slept like a top.” + +“I’m glad to hear that. No unpleasant dreams?” + +“I don’t remember any. I think I was too tired even to dream.” + +“How’s your patient?” + +There was a long pause, which appeared to indicate that Joyce had +slept since Armourer first roused her and had to make certain of her +patient’s condition before replying. + +Presently the handle turned and the door opened for a couple of +inches. + +“Come in,” said Miss Standen through the crack; “I’d like you to look +at her.” + +The other two men exchanged glances as the professor, a tasselled cord +trailing behind him, disappeared. + +“Not so well,” suggested Battiscombe suddenly. + +Armourer sipped his tea. + +“I don’t suppose she’s very bad. She was fairly fit last night, and it +looked as if the fever had burnt itself out. It’s no use worrying +yourself; Standen’ll tell us all the news in a couple of shakes.” + +Battiscombe sat down and stared gloomily at some ants that had found +their way into the sugar-basin. + +“Somehow I can’t get used to the fact that Vera’s ill; she’s always +kept so fit. If anyone’s down at our place, it’s I. D’you know, +Michael, as soon as she’s well enough to travel, I’m going to send her +home. Lord only knows how I’m going to run to two establishments, but +it’s got to be done. It’ll be an awful wrench, of course, and I shall +be as miserable as _Hades_, but it’s simply got to be. Between +ourselves, old son, the East’s no place for some women.” + +“I understand,” said his friend quietly. “Our climate doesn’t suit all +temperaments.” + +He was endeavouring to agree with Battiscombe in blaming the climate, +but was not altogether certain in his own mind how Vera Battiscombe +would figure even in England. From the bottom of his heart he pitied +her husband. Vera and he were so opposite, and it was probably because +of this that they had succeeded in hanging together for so long. And, +apart from the intricacies of the problem which confronted them both, +here was Jim Battiscombe genuinely worried over the health of a woman +who had fallen sick because of the death of another man. Even the +blindness of love had its compensations! + +He caught Battiscombe looking at him. + +“Wouldn’t you send her home, if you were in my shoes?” + +“Yes,” he felt bound to confess, “I fancy I should.” + +“We’ll have to find out all she knows about that confounded Butterfly +first. It’s that that worries me more than anything. She was wearing a +thing round her neck that I didn’t care to touch. Michael, do you +honestly believe Dick gave it her?” + +Armourer felt distinctly uncomfortable. + +“I’m scarcely in a position to judge.” + +“But do you?” + +The other looked at his hands. + +“It scarcely seems feasible, does it? If it were ever in Dick’s +possession, why wasn’t he killed _before_ he got rid of it?” + +“That’s precisely what’s been puzzling me.” + +“Here’s the professor,” said Armourer with intense relief. “Now +perhaps we shall learn something.” + +Standen came towards them, blinking through his spectacles like an +owl. + +“Your tea’ll be cold by now,” declared his host “I’ll throw it away +and pour out a fresh cup. How is Mrs. Battiscombe?” + +“I’m afraid she’s not quite so well this morning. There’s nothing +about her condition that gives cause for anxiety; but her temperature +is up again, and we shall have to keep her quiet for longer than I had +expected.” + +Battiscombe’s face fell. + +“We’re giving you a lot of trouble, professor.” + +“Trouble? Nothing of the sort. I’m delighted to be of the least +service to any of you. You won’t forget my temporary laboratory, +Armourer. I am really quite serious about that.” + +“I’ll get something fixed up at the earliest possible moment. It’ll +probably take us a couple of days.” + +“I suppose it will. I must try and run into Jesselton to-morrow and +see if the hospital can lend me some appliances.” + +“It’ll mean spending the night there,” said Armourer. + +“I must put up with that. Your own medical man should be here by then, +and I know my daughter is in good hands. It’s an extraordinary world +altogether. Which of us would have imagined, when Joyce and I fell off +that trolly the day before yesterday, that we should all be involved +in a problem like this within a few hours!” + +Armourer laughed. + +“I believe you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself, professor!” + +Standen replaced his cup on its saucer and stared from one to the +other, an amused expression on his bearded, wrinkled face. + +“In some respects I suppose that is the case. My small share in the +task which confronts us is one after my own heart, and I was just +beginning to find a long period out of harness a little irksome. If I +actually lacked incentive, a moment’s reflection on the enormous +issues at stake could not fail to provide me with it. In a queer sort +of way, I’m engaged in a grim duel with a hidden and unscrupulous +enemy. It remains to be seen if the wisdom of the West can succeed in +laying bare the oft-times perplexing secrets of the mysterious East.” + +Battiscombe extracted a splinter from a bare toe. + +“I’m prepared to wager that it can and will. It’s about the most +providential thing that ever happened--your being on the spot at such +a crisis. I can’t tell you how grateful we are.” + +Joyce’s voice came shrilly from the far side of the wooden partition. + +“Will some kind person bring me a cup of tea?” + +“Oh, Lord!” apologised Armourer, “I’m so sorry!” + +As soon as his clothes arrived, Battiscombe breakfasted and rode back +to Rembakut. Armourer descended a few moments after his departure and +took up his duties in a sweltering and somewhat primitive court of +justice. The professor fidgeted upon the verandah for a matter of +three-quarters of an hour, then stuck the butterfly-net under one arm +and sauntered out into the brilliant sunshine. + +He said little at lunch and disappeared again shortly after the meal +was finished. + +At a quarter to four he came slowly up the steps, and Joyce and +Armourer, who dozed in long chairs at separate extremes of the +verandah, glanced up simultaneously. + +Standen set one foot on the floor, looking for all the world like a +conquering commander arriving on the quarter-deck of a vanquished +rival. The net was still under one arm, and he held the other +awkwardly, with the air of a guilty schoolboy endeavouring to conceal +a bulging pocket. + +“For the first time in my whole existence,” he announced, “I find the +secrets of the Orient worthy of attention. What magnificent conjurers +these fellows are! It would almost seem as if their normal audiences +had grown so critical that it was necessary to constantly increase the +wrappings of mystery around their artifices to enable them to continue +to deceive. Because,” he added defiantly, “they are only tricks, you +know, picturesque, elaborate tricks! However improbable it may seem to +you, there is a satisfactory, rational reason for everything.” + +Joyce gave vent to a chuckle that was lacking in respect towards an +elderly and distinguished parent. + +“Daddy’s been forced to change his mind about something,” she told +Armourer, “and is endeavouring to justify his first opinion! He does +so hate being wrong!” + +Even this attack--from within his own walls, so to speak--could not +shatter the professor’s air of determined good-humour. + +“What is one to do with a daughter like that?” he demanded. + +“The question of the moment is,” declared the magistrate, “what is +this wonderful secret that you persist in keeping from us?” + +The professor tapped his pocket significantly. + +“The crimson butterfly flies to its image like a common or garden moth +to a flame.” He found a chair and leaned back in it, fanning himself +with his hand. “I’ve really had a most successful afternoon. I’ve +proved conclusively that the ornament and the insect, as we more than +half suspected last night, act in concert. Whenever it is free to do +so, the animate flies in search of the inanimate.” + +“It sounds frightfully impressive,” broke in Joyce, “but what does it +really mean?” + +Before the professor could embark upon his explanation, Armourer +spoke. + +“You say, whenever it is _free_. Do you suggest then that there are +times when the creature is not free?” + +“Yes, most decidedly. I hope I shall never be forced to admit that an +insect can discriminate between man and woman. Since this +extraordinary sequence of events began, there have been two +victims--and both of them males. Mrs. Battiscombe wore the pendant +with apparent impunity. The custodian of the butterfly, the man who +discovered the partiality of the insect for that particular type of +stone, must obviously assure himself as to the approximate position of +the pendant before he releases the butterfly on its mission of +vengeance.” + +“Abu-Samar.” + +Standen nodded. + +“But how do you know all this?” inquired his daughter. + +“Because,” said the professor,” a crimson butterfly in a rather +battered condition found its way to the spot where I buried the +ornament. I imagine it to be the one Trevor injured.” + +Armourer sprang from his chair. + +“You actually saw it?” + +“I actually caught it,” laughed the professor. “I have a living +specimen of the crimson butterfly here with me now!” + + + + + CHAPTER XX. + Joyce Goes to Jesselton + +During the week following the discovery of the butterfly Professor +Standen found it necessary to go down to Jesselton twice--and on the +second occasion he took Joyce. + +Armourer had pressed him to do this, because he felt certain she +desired a change, if only for a few hours. + +Mrs. Battiscombe’s illness, prolonged as it had been, had taken a +decided turn for the better, and in the case of an unexpected relapse +Dr. Macnally was now within easy call. + +The magistrate saw them off. + +“Have a good time,” he said to Joyce, “and don’t let your father drag +you around with him.” + +“I shan’t,” declared the girl. “I shall call on Mrs. Anderson and stop +at her house until he chooses to fetch me. I know what father is when +he gets with medical men.” + +Standen patted her arm affectionately. + +“You shall do just as you like, my dear, and if you care to stop +behind until I’ve finished my task you’re quite at liberty to do so.” + +He strode to the far end of the coach to blow an obstruction from his +cigarette-holder. + +“Why don’t you?” asked Armourer. + +“Why don’t I what?” + +“Stop in Jesselton until the affair is cleared up.” + +She wrinkled her forehead. + +“I don’t think I want to. You see, I’ve only acquaintances in town.” + +“And we’ve become more than acquaintances.” + +She looked away. + +“Rather! I’m almost beginning to look upon Jelandang as a second home. +Besides, I shouldn’t care to leave Mrs. Battiscombe until she was +quite recovered. In spite of all the unpleasant things people say +about her, I like her immensely.” + +“And so you’re coming back because of Mrs. Battiscombe?” + +“Not altogether. I like the house and the dogs, and our evening game +of cards is becoming quite an institution. Why don’t you want me to +come back?” + +She looked up suddenly and he felt himself crimsoning to the roots of +his hair. + +“I do,” he said earnestly. “It’ll be rotten up there without you. I +only suggested you might stay away for a bit because I was afraid you +would have a breakdown. You’ve been dancing attendance on Mrs. +Battiscombe for days and your system can’t possibly have had time to +accustom itself to our climate.” + +The train jolted forward and Armourer swung himself off. + +“Good-bye,” he shouted, keeping pace for some yards with it. “I’d like +to come with you, only I daren’t show my face in Jesselton until I’ve +achieved something definite.” + +Joyce leaned out of the window. + +“Good-bye. Mind you look after yourself--and Mrs. Battiscombe!” + +He stared after the jolting line of white coaches until they were lost +to view amid jungle-clad banks. + +He tucked his malacca under one arm and turned to regain the path. + +“Now what on earth did she mean by that?” he demanded of his +inner--and presumably wiser--self. + +He was becoming desperately infatuated with Joyce Standen and her +thrust had found its way home with an accuracy that was astonishing. +Nobody realised more than he did what an uncomfortable guest Mrs. +Battiscombe was to a man in his position, and the fact that Joyce had +reminded him of this, _hurt_. For more than a week he had been trying +to live down that other incident on the verandah at Rembakut, when +Vera Battiscombe had somehow bewitched him into kissing her--and Jim +had surprised them _in flagrante delicto_. Unless Vera had told her in +an outburst of confidence, Joyce could not possibly know anything +about that. Lord! how contrary this wicked world was! He had tried to +keep Vera and Joyce apart and, following upon the heels of this +desire, Fate had landed them in a proximity that was too close to be +pleasant. When Joyce had been in danger at his bungalow an unkind +fortune had decreed that it should be Trevor, not he, who should be +there to protect her. And now, with the professor spending hours at a +time in his remote laboratory, when by every reasonable law they +should have scores of opportunities to be alone altogether, here was +this same Mrs. Battiscombe constantly butting in with petulant demands +for nourishment, water, or being read to. + +He thanked his stars, as he strode through the undergrowth, that +Battiscombe was coming over to sleep. To spend a night with only the +bewitching Vera under his roof would be tantamount to provoking a +scandal that would electrify the island! + +He was beginning to wish he had never brought her there at all. When +she fainted on Moberly’s bungalow he should have dispatched her +instantly to her husband’s house and left it for Jimmy to +cross-question her as to her knowledge of the Crimson Butterfly. As it +was, he had gained nothing by having her there; for Standen had stated +that she was not to be worried and that any questions concerning +Moberly’s death must be left until a complete recovery was definitely +assured. + +As for the redoubtable Abu-Samar, he had vanished as completely as if +the earth had swallowed him up. + +A coroner’s jury, hastily scraped together, had disposed of both cases +under the vague heading of _Death by Misadventure_ and had followed +this swiftly decided verdict by drinking Vance’s cellar nearly dry. +The Commissioner had put into circulation a typewritten order advising +all settlers to take special precautions to protect themselves against +_a new and poisonous type of butterfly_ and requesting an immediate +report in the event of a further specimen being seen. A reward of $250 +was, moreover, offered for information which might lead to the +apprehension of Mr. Abu-Samar--a reward which, in view of Samar’s +former escapades (and with dollars rating at 2s. 4d.), was pronounced +by the indignant Battiscombe as grossly inadequate. + +In an interview with Professor Standen the Commissioner had declared +that, while he was instructed by the Governor to sanction and assist +his researches for such a time as he should deem reasonable, he was by +no means satisfied that the absconding pseudo-doctor was in any way +responsible for the recent tragedies. He looked to the professor to +supply information, if possible, as to the habits and breeding-places +of the new insect, the nature of the poison it exuded and the type of +antidote to be employed--and suggested that a month or, at the most, +six weeks would be ample time in which to furnish the required data. + +The task of hunting down Abu-Samar he relegated to his local +magistrates and a sort of flying squadron of native infantry under a +fresh-comer from England named Lindsay. It should, perhaps, be +recorded here that Lindsay’s handful of brown-skinned soldiers +certainly _flew_ but, beyond that, achieved nothing--a fact which, +considering their leader’s limited experience of Borneo, was scarcely +to be wondered at. + +Armourer was greeted on his arrival at the bungalow by a short missive +from Battiscombe. + + + “Dear Michael,” it ran, “I had intended to be with you this evening, + but Fate--and the Commissioner--willed it otherwise. I am embarking + forthwith upon the ninety-and-ninth wild-goose chase into the + interior. Some optimistic village headman, with an eye to the main + chance, believes he has located our friend Abu. Of course he hasn’t, + but that’s neither here nor there! The interesting fact remains that + I’ve to go--and I’ve a devil of a liver! + + “Explain things to Vera. + + “Heaven knows when I shall be back, but at some point or other I shall + get covered in leeches; I feel it in my bones!--Yours ever, Jimmy.” + + +Armourer read it through twice, crumpled it up between his fingers, +smoothed it out again and perused it for a third time. + +“Damn!” he ejaculated savagely, and wedged the letter between two +volumes on the shelf. + +Five minutes later he scribbled a line to Vance and handed it to an +orderly. Whatever happened he was not going to be left alone with that +woman. Since his experience at Rembakut he had a pious horror of +Vera--even when convalescent! + +He paced the verandah for some time with Mick and Mac, who, unable +immediately to accustom themselves to a considerably reduced +household, followed him abjectly wherever he went. + +It was two hours before a reply came back. + +Vance was sorry he couldn’t get away, but he was sending Trevor, who +would ride over some time after dinner. They were shorthanded and very +busy and there was a good deal of sickness in the coolie-lines. + +Armourer stared at the ceiling. + +After dinner! That might mean ten o’clock--and it was now barely five. +Five long hours with Vera Battiscombe; the prospect made him shudder. +She would profit by her privileged position as an invalid to wear as +few clothes as possible--and she would commence proceedings by calling +him Michael. She would persist in talking--and he wouldn’t be able to +summon up sufficient rudeness to stop her. She would dwell upon all +those things he most wanted to forget and finish by taunting him with +a supposed affection for Joyce, which he knew he would not be able +effectively to deny. + +What a pleasant evening it was going to be! + +The only sensible move would be to go out until dinner; but he +remembered to his disgust that she was still regarded as on the +sick-list and could not be left to the tender mercies of a new +cook-boy. + +In sheer exasperation he cursed heartily, though inwardly, Abu-Samar, +the Commissioner, James Battiscombe--for having such a wife--and +himself for having ever given her houseroom. He almost cursed the +professor into the bargain, for having gone to Jesselton; but this +would have included Joyce. + +Vera did not appear at tea, an occurrence which, far from raising his +hopes, merely aroused suspicions. Like a skilled general meditating a +surprise attack, she was planning to commence her assault at the hour +when she counted she would find him at his weakest! + +He was having his first whisky of the evening and meditating a hot +bath, when her door opened. + +The sun had dropped--a flaming ball--into the western sea, and in +those few fleeting moments of half-light the universe seemed hushed. +Beyond the pall that was swiftly creeping over everything big stars +were already showing. There came a timid murmuring of insect voices, +working up like a distant orchestra in some frenzied Russian +composition, until the atmosphere seemed full of it. + +A great hour this--second only to the dawn, and Armourer saw in it +Vera’s zero-hour. + +She appeared to sail towards him out from the gloom, pale, beautiful, +ravishing.… He could see that her cheeks were as white as marble and +her lips as crimson as the fatal Butterfly.… + +He stood there trembling, aghast at the immensity of her beauty, +powerless.… She dropped suddenly at his feet and the touch of the +crêpey substance of her pale blue kimono on his wrist set his teeth +on edge. + +“Michael,” she murmured tremulously, “why have you kept me here?… +What have you done with my beautiful Butterfly?” + + + + + CHAPTER XXI. + The Siren Speaks + +She lay there, clasping at his knees, fragile as a piece of rare +porcelain, with eyes as innocent in their gaze as those of a child, +and it was minutes before Armourer could make up his mind to touch +her. + +He contrived not to look at her, staring vaguely into the +night-shrouded open lands and the shadowy outlines of the forest +beyond. + +Strong man that he was, he felt that her presence there imperilled his +soul. He saw her no longer as Vera--the wife of a cheery, fat, +commonplace colleague; but as a siren from the underworld sent there +to tempt him to some nameless indiscretion that would effectively +shatter his earthly hopes. + +The new cook-boy, shuffling in with the lamp, was the most welcome +sound he ever remembered hearing. + +She drew herself upright without his assistance and perched herself on +the edge of the table, accomplishing each movement with an ease and +grace that was remarkable in a woman in the early stages of +convalescence. + +The servant hung the lamp on a hook screwed into a beam and +manipulated the wick until the centre portion of the broad verandah +was bathed in yellow radiance. + +“Hot water, Chong-Si,” said the magistrate briefly, and the Chinaman +withdrew. + +“So it _was_ your Butterfly?” he asked suddenly. + +A rippling laugh escaped her lips. + +“Yes, my poor Michael, and if you do not return it to me to-night, I +promise you I shall conjure up every ounce of feminine spite at my +command, and tell that brown-haired girl all about our romantic little +dance at Rembakut.” + +Armourer winced. He was beginning to realise that, during her illness, +a subtle change had come over her. Even before the tragedy at +Bukit-Serang she had conducted her rather indiscriminate love affairs +in a way that deceived nobody but her husband; but there had been, +nevertheless, certain glimmerings of delicacy and reserve, which now +appeared to be entirely missing. There was an added hardness to her +voice, too, which puzzled him. + +He placed his back firmly against a post and folded his arms. + +“Why do you want it back? Considering its associations, I should have +imagined it about the last thing you would ever want to see again.” + +She hooked a cigarette from the tin he always kept on the table, and +held out a hand for matches. + +“Associations!” she echoed mockingly, “what on earth are its +associations to me? It’s a beautiful thing and I like it.” + +He shook his head. + +“I’m afraid it is entirely out of the question, Mrs. Battiscombe. It +left my possession some days ago and will probably never come into it +again.” + +She slipped from her perch and came right up to him, her eyes never +leaving his face. + +“You are lying to me,” she cried hoarsely. “You have it here--in the +house somewhere. I must have it, I tell you; it belongs to me.” + +She threw a glance round the verandah as if contemplating a thorough +search for the missing ornament. + +Armourer felt for his pipe. + +“I tell you I haven’t got it,” he said. + +“But you have; you can’t have sent it away. You found it over +there--where Dick died.” + +He pressed the tobacco firmly home with his forefinger. He was +beginning to feel himself again and was relieved to discover that this +new Vera seemed a good deal less dangerous at the outset than the old. + +“That’s perfectly correct. I found the Butterfly on Moberly’s table +and brought it here; but it’s not here now and hasn’t been for some +days.” + +She clutched at his arm. + +“Michael! Stop teasing me! You have locked it away in some drawer.” +She began pleading with him, fondling him, coaxing him with all the +nauseous persistence of a confirmed drug-taker. “You don’t understand +what it means to me--this thing. It is essential to me for my +health--for everything. Without it, I believe I shall die…” + +This fresh attitude of hers presented too good an opportunity to be +allowed to pass by. He resolved to ignore the professor’s advice and +endeavour to glean a little information. Considering that she had +mentioned Dick first, he could not see what harm a few questions would +do. + +“The pendant was in Moberly’s possession when we found it and it will +probably go with the rest of his effects to his wife.” + +A wild look flashed into her eyes. + +“No, no,” she cried, “they mustn’t do that; you must stop them. Ann +Moberly mustn’t have it. It belongs to me.” + +Armourer nodded gravely. + +“But you sent it back to Dick--and it was his property when he died,” +he reminded her. + +She stiffened suddenly and stared into the night. Presently her head +came slowly round. + +“Michael,” she whispered, “I want you to believe me, and to respect my +confidence. That night when you rode to Rembakut--and kissed me--was a +red-letter day in my life. After Dick and the others, it was simply +wonderful to think that a great, strong, clean man like yourself could +care for me. There were Dick’s presents and one other--this Butterfly +pendant, I had accepted it in a moment of weakness and feared that to +send it back to him would be to open up a correspondence with him +again. I didn’t want to do that. I felt myself standing at the gateway +of a new life. I didn’t want these men’s presents any longer; I just +wanted _you_. Jim had been drinking and kept grumbling about my +friendship for Dick, and suddenly I saw that this was my one +opportunity of gracefully shutting the door on him. I declared I would +return everything he had given me, and slipped the pendant into the +parcel as well. After it had gone I was haunted with the thought that +Dick might return it and there would be further complications with +Jim. I rode over to get it back from him myself. You know the rest, +don’t you?” + +She dropped wearily into a chair. + +There was no sound for some moments but the regular puffing of the +magistrate at his pipe. + +“Then Moberly didn’t give you the Crimson Butterfly?” + +“No.” + +Her head was buried in her hands and the answer came to him through +her fingers. + +“It came from a man you disliked?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then why are you so mortally anxious to have it back again?” + +She withdrew her hands. + +“Because,” she told him steadily, “I have had letters from this man, +demanding it and threatening to see Jim if it is not returned.” + +A broad ray of daylight filtered into his brain. + +“He has been writing to you here?” + +She moved impatiently. + +“Why do you persist in questioning me like this. I have been ill.” + +“I want you to answer this because I fancy I may be able to help you.” + +She dropped her hands helplessly into her lap. + +“Yes, he has written to me here.” + +“Good! That’s all I wanted to know. Now, Mrs. Battiscombe, if you will +bring me one of those letters and show me the address from which he +writes, I think I can safely predict that your troubles will be at an +end.” + +Chong-Si appeared at the living-room door. + +“Your bath is ready, _Tuan_,” he announced. + +“_Baik-lah_! I will be there in a minute.” + +The man vanished. + +Armourer looked round to find Mrs. Battiscombe in tears. + +She was using every artifice to induce him to surrender the Crimson +Butterfly, which was really rather pitiful in its way, because, as he +had already tried to make her believe, the pendant had passed from his +keeping a week ago. + +“My dear woman,” he protested; “it’s no earthly use upsetting +yourself. It doesn’t matter to me one iota what this man was to you; I +merely want his address.” + +“Give me my Butterfly,” she sobbed, “and let me send it myself.” + +“Now, look here,” he said sternly, “we’ve been at loggerheads over +this wretched ornament for quite long enough. I haven’t got it, and, +for reasons which I believe you partly understand, I never want to +handle it again. The best thing you can do, in your own interests and +those of your husband, is to make a clean breast of the whole matter. +I want you to tell me how the Butterfly pendant killed Dick Moberly.” + +She stared at him wildly. + +“What do you mean? Why do you stare at me like that?--I didn’t kill +him; surely you don’t think that?” + +Armourer controlled his features with an effort. + +“We have been waiting for you to recover,” he told her, “so that you +might be able to clear yourself. The Butterfly pendant has in some way +been associated with the deaths of two people--and the person actually +in possession of it immediately before these tragedies--was yourself. +Now will you show me those letters?” + +“I have burnt them.” + +“Will you tell me the address to which you intended sending the +ornament?” + +The fit of sobbing vanished as easily as it had come. + +“No,” she said defiantly, “never, never, never!” + +“I am going to suggest that there never were any such letters.” + +She half rose from her chair. + +“How dare you!” + +She sank back again, feigning exhaustion. + +“You have told me several conflicting things this evening,” he +continued, “and I am about to sort from them what I consider to be the +actual state of affairs. You were tired of Dick Moberly and sent that +charm to him with his presents, fully cognisant of what the result +would be. A little later you repented and rode madly from Rembakut to +Bukit-Serang, hoping to be in time to prevent a tragedy.” + +She sprang to her feet, her eyes blazing. + +“God!” she screamed at him, “I hate you! I knew nothing of its powers. +I had only had it since the afternoon. The man told me, jokingly, that +it was a charm which would help me to accomplish my desires. In a +stupid moment I wished Dick dead--and a superstitious feeling made me +ride over to get the thing back from him. I never knew he would +die--like that. I didn’t want him to die. It was such a shock to me +that I have been ill ever since.” She fell back again and lay gazing +dry-eyed at the ceiling. “And while I have been ill,” she continued +brokenly, “all this has been said against me! But, Michael, I am +innocent; you know that I am innocent.” + +“I want the address of the man who gave you that charm,” pursued the +magistrate relentlessly. + +“I lied to you,” she confessed. “He has never written to me in his +life. He calls to me when I am sleeping, he beckons to me and I see +behind him the brazier in the wilderness and the red butterflies. On +the night when I slept with the Butterfly at my throat I had no +dreams. That is why I ask you to give it back to me. I am suffering +all the tortures of the damned.” + +His pipe had gone out and he knew that the water in the little +bathroom annexe was turning from lukewarm to cold. In the living-room +Chong-Si moved softly, with every now and then a jingling of forks and +spoons as he arranged them for the evening meal. + +There floated back to Armourer a memory of a sentence Joyce had +written down for him on a card: “_I am a goddess_,” Vera had said in +her delirium, “_and my kiss is death!_” + +In a dim sort of fashion he was beginning to understand. He shuddered +to think of the risk he had run during that mad evening on +Battiscombe’s verandah. Her kiss might well have been death then, had +a butterfly been released to fly in quest of its own image! + +“The professor has the pendant,” he said at length. “He is employing +it for some experiment in the little laboratory we have managed to fix +up for him. I am sorry, Mrs. Battiscombe, if I have upset you. None of +us actually supposed that you killed Dick Moberly. I shall be able to +tell them that you were merely an instrument.” + +She bent forward. + +“Whose instrument?” she inquired fearfully, trying to discover how +much he knew. + +“_Abu-Samar’s_,” said Armourer steadily--and Vera Battiscombe hid her +face. + + + + + CHAPTER XXII. + Disappearance of Mrs. Battiscombe + +As Armourer dressed himself slowly for the evening meal, feeling +clean and refreshed after his bath, he pondered over the various +phases of his interview with Vera. + +Abu-Samar had given her the Crimson Butterfly; that fact he regarded +as completely established. He had given it her on the afternoon of the +day preceding Moberly’s death, she had worn it when he danced with +her, and Jim had discovered it later. To avoid mentioning Samar, she +had included this ornament with Dick’s presents when she returned +them, and to prevent the planter sending it back again, she had ridden +over to explain her position. She had not expected a tragedy; but the +discovery of the dead man and the mark on his face had immediately +recalled to her memory Abu-Samar’s statement that the Butterfly was a +charm that would enable her to attain her desires--and her own foolish +wish, expressed in a weak moment, that Moberly should die. + +He tilted back the mirror so that he could see to brush his hair. + +It seemed to him that this was the only sensible way of regarding her +part in the affair. + +The extent of her friendship with Abu-Samar was no affair of his. He +was concerned with the chain of events leading up to the tragedy at +Bukit-Serang and the later tragedy at his own house--and the chain, +weird, fantastic, incredible as it was, was almost complete. + +Abu-Samar, desiring to revenge himself upon Battiscombe for an insult, +had played upon Vera’s notorious love of admiration and costly gifts +to ensure that the talisman that somehow attracted these poisonous +insects should be taken to the magistrate’s house. Following upon a +peculiar sequence of events for which he could not possibly have +allowed, the pendant found its way to Moberly’s bungalow, and the +butterfly, when released, brought about the decease of the wrong man. + +Professor Standen would have to supply details that would strengthen +certain of the links. + +It remained to be discovered what singular attractive properties the +ornament possessed, and why Mrs. Battiscombe should be immune from +attack. The fact that both the victims were men he regarded as merely +an accident. + +Abu-Samar--that arch-criminal, hypnotist, producer of colossal +illusions--had concentrated upon his art until he had succeeded in +producing a masterpiece. As Standen had said, it was a trick, +accomplished in the broad light of day without the aid of mirrors, +traps, or any of the recognised _apparata_ of the Western illusionist, +but still unworthy of any more dignified title than a trick. + +And, in common with his more civilised prototype, he was dependent +upon an accomplice and upon certain conditions. Without Mrs. +Battiscombe he could not have counted upon the Butterfly pendant being +in its desired position, and with the pendant kept at a safe distance +from his intended victims, he was unable to produce the trick at all. + +Armourer rubbed his hands together and took a final look at himself in +the glass. + +Things were beginning to simmer down. Provided that reasonable care +were exerted, a repetition of the affair at Bukit-Serang was next to +impossible, and all that remained to be done was to capture Abu-Samar. +Unless--and the thought rendered him uneasy--the magician, driven into +the backwoods and becoming desperate, were to let loose a cloud of +these insects to wreak indiscriminate vengeance upon anybody who +should come in their way. + +Here they were dependent upon Professor Standen too. A powerful +antidote would in this case be the only hope to avert a catastrophe +which was too ghastly to contemplate seriously. + +The Butterfly ornament on its filigree chain might, in addition to +directing the movements of the real butterfly, render it more than +usually vindictive; but, even without the ornament, he could not lose +sight of the fact that these creatures were still saturated with venom +from wing-tip to wing-tip and still at liberty to make use of their +fatal powers upon the slightest provocation. + +As he strolled out on to the verandah he caught himself hoping that +the professor’s experiments were making headway in the right +direction. He hoped, too, that Jimmy Battiscombe--with his rooted +aversion to leeches--had been dispatched upon a false scent. It would +be particularly unpleasant to come suddenly upon the black magician +and his vile collection of unclean insects without being prepared with +something that could be counted upon to counteract the effects of the +poison. + +He found Chong-Si at the living-room doorway. + +“The _mem_ is tired,” he informed his master; “she will not eat.” + +Armourer walked to the rail and, leaning his hands on it, stared into +the night. He had expected this. + +“Very well, Chong-Si,” he said over his shoulder. “Take some food to +her room and then get my dinner as quickly as possible.” + +The terriers stole up the stairs, Mick carrying a small rat and Mac +endeavouring to relieve his companion in crime of its ownership. + +“Here! Take that thing outside,” recommended their lord and +master--and the procession retreated by the way it had come. + +He was glad he had those dogs. Until Joyce had walked into his life, +he had been tolerably contented with his lot. She had been his guest +for little more than a week and now, in her first absence, he was +already beginning to feel unutterably lonely. Looked at from every +reasonable point of view, this phenomenon appeared absurd. He had +never regarded himself seriously as a marrying sort of man; he had had +his work to interest him, the intricacies of native dialect, the +manifold peculiarities and inconsistencies of local character. Even in +the event of his screwing himself up to the point of proposing +matrimony, it was far more likely than not that she would refuse him. +He could scarcely see how she could do otherwise. He had lived so long +alone that he flattered himself he knew his own shortcomings pretty +well. He assumed that these shortcomings were patent to all the +world--more particularly to a beautiful, discerning creature like +Joyce. He was just an ordinary magistrate in very ordinary +surroundings and dependent for his existence upon an ordinary man’s +pay--supplemented by a couple of hundred or so of his own. In the +words of Euclid, the thing was absurd--and yet there was some +obstinate kink in his nature that wouldn’t let him give up hoping. + +As he leaned there, gazing down towards the spot where Mick and Mac +still continued their boisterous struggle for the possession of a rat, +a familiar sound broke upon his ears. + +He drew himself erect, listening intently. + +There was no doubt about it. Somebody on horseback had already left +the trees and was cantering towards the house. + +Five minutes later he moistened his lips and called. + +“Hullo, there! That you, Trevor?” + +The planter’s assistant came up the steps. + +“Hullo, Armourer! Here I am and here’s my kit.” + +He unhitched a haversack and let it fall to the floor. + +“Just in time for _makan_; we’re late to-night. I let my bath-water +get cold and Chong-Si had to boil me some more. How are you?” + +Trevor found a chair. + +“First class, thanks. I got away sooner than I’d expected and took it +into my head to sponge on you for a meal. Yes, I’ll manage a drink, if +you don’t mind. That ride did me a world of good. It’s a sticky sort +of evening.” + +The magistrate concocted an _aperitif_. + +“Get that inside you and we’ll go and eat.” + +The other tested and signified his approval with a nod. + +“If ever you give up this sort of thing you ought to try a hand at +cocktail-shaking. It’s your line all right! How’s the mystery +progressing?” + +Armourer lowered his brows. + +“Slowly.” + +“And Abu?” + +“He’s still at large. Battiscombe should have been here to-night, but +he’s gone up-country. That’s why I sent for one of you fellows.” He +lowered his voice. “Jimmy doesn’t seem to mind much how or where he +leaves his wife; but _I_ do. You follow me, don’t you?” + +Trevor winked. + +“She’s still here, then?” + +“Oh, she’s here, right enough; though I don’t suppose we shall be +favoured with her company to-night. She has signified her intention of +dining in her room. The professor and his daughter are in Jesselton.” + +They strolled in to dinner. + +“And so,” murmured Trevor as Chong-Si set down the soup, “the +distinguished magistrate has found it necessary to seek moral +support.” + +“He has indeed!” + +He flicked an insect from the rim of his plate with his thumb-nail. + +Trevor looked thoughtful. + +“Well, I can’t say that I blame you. Mrs. B. would be the most +delightful woman in the world--if she were a little less cosmopolitan +in her tastes. But a flirtation loses half its charm when there’s +every possibility of it developing to something more serious. After +all, there’s no particular fun in attempting to conquer something +that’s in a constant state of surrender. Rather clever for me, what?” + +“There are times,” declared his host, “when you verge upon +genius!--Have some more soup?” + +“No, thanks. Now, if it had been Miss Standen instead of the aforesaid +female, things would have been very different.” + +Armourer looked up sharply. + +“How so?” + +“You wouldn’t have sent for me.” + +The magistrate pushed away his plate. + +“I should,” he replied slowly. “I should most emphatically have sent +for you; but I shouldn’t have grown particularly anxious if your +duties had detained you until, say, eleven.” + +Trevor stared at him hard. + +“Armourer,” he announced at length, “you’re bitten! You have fallen a +victim to the innocent charms of your dark-eyed visitor. Now isn’t +that just my luck!” + +“Don’t be an idiot!” growled the other--and then, in an altered tone: +“You’re not keen on her, really?” + +“No--not hopelessly; but I fancy I could have been. Lord! I see it all +now! This desperate effort to preserve appearances, to preserve an +hitherto untarnished reputation! It’s as clear as daylight. What a +cunning old devil you are!” + +Armourer was crimsoning beneath the tan. + +“You are jumping at conclusions.” + +“They don’t need much jumping at. I suppose I ought to offer my +congratulations!” His glance fell upon the bottle before him. “I say, +are we supposed to celebrate an occasion like this with _beer_?” + +“Trevor,” said Armourer coldly, “you are not a genius; you never were, +and I see no reason to suppose that you ever will be! You can have +champagne if you like; but I can frankly assure you at the same time +that there’s no need for any celebration. Miss Standen is merely an +extremely welcome guest at Jelandang; nothing more and nothing less.” + +He rang the bell. + +“Which means,” said the irrepressible Trevor, “that the lady has not +yet been consulted on the subject! Nevertheless, I simply refuse to +refrain from drinking your health in the only fluid worth drinking it +in. Taking into consideration your undeniable dash and _élan_, I +regard the forthcoming engagement as a _fait accompli_. Tell Chong-Si +to make it two bottles!” + +The servant shuffled in from the kitchen. + +“Chong-Si,” ordered Armourer, “bring me two bottles of champagne.” He +detached a key from a ring and tossed it to the cook-boy. “And, +oh--just a minute. You’d better ask the _mem_ if she would care to +take wine. _Tahu_?” + +Chong-Si made off. + +He was back again in under two minutes, a bottle in either hand and a +look of consternation on his face. + +“The _mem_ has gone out, _Tuan_,” he stammered. + +The magistrate came to his feet. + +“Gone out?” + +“_Yah, Tuan._ As I went to the cupboard, I saw something pass the door +of the store-room. I looked down the passage--and found that it was +the lady, with something white thrown over her head. She went out by +the back door.” He placed the bottles on the table and groped in the +depths of a pocket. “There was this letter on the tray in the lady’s +room.” + +He handed Armourer a note addressed to himself. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIII. + The Hut in the Trees + +Armourer read the missive through and handed it to Trevor. + +“What d’you make of that?” he demanded. + +The other scanned it. + + + “Dear Michael,” it read, “I can bear it no longer. Whenever I close + my eyes I see him. I see the rocks in the wilderness, the red light + from the brazier--and him, beckoning me. This evening your pitiless + catechism broke down the last rampart of my resistance. The call came + again--and I could only obey. A mysterious _something_ guides my pen + and I have had to force myself to write even these few lines. I find + it impossible to inscribe his name, but you, who have guessed so much + already, will understand. The wretchedness that my follies have + brought to everybody has descended at last upon myself. What ghastly + fate awaits me in the beyond I know not, but if it is because of my + looks that he has sought me I pray that some horrible disease may mar + my features before I encounter him alone. + + “Good-bye. + “Vera.” + + +Trevor stared at his friend in amazement. + +“Holy Moses! what’s it all mean?” + +“The _him_,” said Armourer, “is Abu-Samar. It was he who gave that +ornament to Mrs. Battiscombe.” + +“I see; and all this rigmarole about wildernesses and red lights and +somebody calling, what’s all that signify?” + +The magistrate reached down his hat. + +“Abu was never a doctor. His chief stunt is hypnotism. He has +apparently taken advantage of Mrs. Battiscombe’s weak state of health +to impose his will upon her--from a distance. I don’t understand much +about this sort of thing, but I believe it’s quite possible. Looks as +if the champagne’s _off_ for the moment, doesn’t it?” + +Trevor made a wry face. + +“Whenever I come to this confounded house of yours, there’s always +some excitement in the wind. A few more experiences of this sort and I +shall begin to believe that our district officers constitute a +particularly energetic and hard-worked body of men! I think my topee’s +on the verandah.” + +They went out together by the back way and Chong-Si watched their +movements apprehensively. If any particular thought were uppermost in +his mind at that minute it was probably one concerning the demise of +his immediate predecessor. + +Armourer’s first move was to turn out his men and dispatch them with +instructions to scour the neighbourhood thoroughly. + +“We’ll try the path through the trees first,” he told Trevor, “follow +it as far as your wire and come back by the professor’s shack. She’s +only ten minutes start of us.” + +The other nodded. + +“She can’t have got far and the white thing over her head should +render her fairly conspicuous in the darkness. Going to ride?” + +Armourer reflected. + +“No. Ponies will only be in the way if we have to leave the track. We +shall be far more comfortable on foot.” + +They strode on in silence, filling their pipes as they went. + +“I hope we find her all right,” said the magistrate, suddenly. “I feel +kind of responsible for this.” + +Trevor glanced up at his companion. + +“That’s pretty good nonsense, isn’t it? Jim couldn’t expect you to +spend your time in her room.” + +“I know all about that; but, you see, I asked her a lot of questions +about the pendant just before _makan_, and the professor had +previously warned me not to do so. It might quite easily be supposed +that my attitude was responsible for her flight. You remember what she +said in the letter about my pitiless catechism.” + +Trevor struck a match and puffed furiously for some seconds. + +“I shouldn’t say anything about that letter. It’s of no value except +to show what state of mind she was in. It doesn’t supply any definite +clue to the direction she’s taken.” + +“It doesn’t,” returned the other slowly; “but, if I have made a +mistake, I can take my gruelling with the next man. I don’t fancy I +should care to suppress anything.” + +“It might be misunderstood; it struck me as being rather intimate. It +started _Michael_, I mean--and finished _Vera_.” + +Armourer bit his lip. + +“I’ve never written to _her_,” he protested, “and I can’t very well +help what she chooses to write to me, can I? Besides, Jimmy always +addresses me by my Christian name.” + +“You don’t think he’ll mind?” + +“Not particularly. Why should he?” + +“And the professor and Miss Standen? Supposing they get to hear of +it?” + +The magistrate held out his hand. + +“Give me the matches, Trevor. Thanks. You’ve a particularly irritating +way of hitting the right nail on the head. I’m not going to commit +myself to destroying or withholding anything, but I shall certainly +think over the wisdom of divulging the contents of that confounded +note. D’you know, Trevor, that woman’s becoming a veritable thorn in +my side.” + +“She evidently likes you.” + +Armourer uttered an exclamation of disgust. + +“Then all I can say is I wish she didn’t. Jimmy swears he’ll send her +home as soon as she’s fit to travel, and I shall try and keep him up +to it. She’s a damned dangerous woman.” + +“‘Amen’ to that!” added the other, “but we’ve got to find her first.” + +They encountered a native in the trees and Armourer questioned him. + +“Where are you going?” + +The man seemed frightened. + +“_Sana_,” he muttered, indicating with a dark forefinger the direction +in which a village lay. + +“Have you seen anybody on the path or in the forest?” + +The creature shook his head. + +“Nobody, _Tuan_.” + +“Nobody at all? Not a white lady, for example, with a shawl over her +head?” + +He shook his head again. + +“I came from the _Kampong_ on the far side of the hill. There were +girls drawing water from a stream, but after that, nobody.” + +Armourer shrugged his shoulders and let him go. + +He looked at Trevor. + +“That’s rather important,” he said. “He must have followed our path +for more than a mile before we met him. She can’t have come this way.” + +The other rubbed his chin. + +“She may have left the track at some point. I suggest we keep on for, +say, another half-mile.” + +Armourer shone an electric torch on the ground at his feet. + +“The worst of it is,” he complained, “that the earth’s as hard as +nails everywhere. A regiment of soldiers could march along here +without leaving a single foot-mark.” + +A hundred yards farther on a man with a hurricane lamp stepped +suddenly from the bushes. + +“Who’s that?” called Armourer sharply. + +“Sembilan, _Tuan_,” came the startled response, and a little black +private came respectfully to attention. + +“Sembilan, is it? Have you found the white lady?” + +“No, _Tuan-Hakim_. The _mem_ is nowhere to be seen; but I have found +this on a thorn-bush.” + +He held before them a white silk wrap with a long fringe. + +Armourer recognised the scent which still clung to it long before he +had time to examine the texture of the material. + +“Where did you find this?” + +The soldier pointed behind him. + +“Just there, _Tuan_, but a few moments before you came. The grass had +been trodden down and the track points this way--across the main path +and into the trees on the other side.” + +“Carry on, Sembilan,” commanded Armourer, “we will follow.” + +They followed their guide through dense undergrowth, parted in places +as if something had recently passed that way. Mosquitoes whined +everywhere, monkeys crooned sleepily overhead, and presently a patch +of cool air brought them to the bed of a trickling forest stream. + +Sembilan came back, holding his lamp above his head, and pointed +excitedly at the ground. + +“By Jove!” murmured Trevor, “we’re on the right track. That’s a +woman’s heel or I’m a Dutchman. See! There it is again.” + +Armourer followed the direction of his gaze. + +“Thank heaven for that!” he announced presently. “We’ve discovered +something! Don’t hang about there, man, gibbering like an infernal +ape! Get on with it!” + +The native grinned and moved forward. + +“What the dickens made her take to the jungle?” asked Trevor after a +long pause. + +“Don’t know,” responded the other. “Perhaps she’s following some +course dictated by that scoundrel Abu. She must be in a sort of +trance, or she surely wouldn’t have left this shawl behind.” + +Trevor was thinking. + +“We’ll hunt up a map when we get back,” he said, “and draw a line on +it from your place to this point, and on to infinity. If she’s bound +to steer a direct course to where he now is, we might follow that line +until we find him.” He dug Armourer in the ribs. “That’s pretty sound +reasoning, eh?” + +“Marvellous! Any idea where we are now?” + +“No.” + +“Well, how are you going to find it on the map?” + +“Don’t know. I was leaving that to you. Do _you_ know where we are?” + +The magistrate sucked at an empty pipe. + +“We’re about a hundred yards from the professor’s laboratory, and Mrs. +Battiscombe in her wanderings has covered three parts of a circle. +Rather knocks your theory on the head, doesn’t it?” + +This sudden revelation left Trevor utterly unabashed. + +“It was very stupid of me,” he announced cheerfully. “I had forgotten +to allow for feminine instability of character!” + +Two minutes brought them to the hut. + +Armourer uttered an exclamation and ran the final ten yards. + +“What’s up?” demanded Trevor, following suit. + +“This,” declared the other, and swung the door to and fro on its +hinges. “The padlock’s been forced off. Sembilan! bring that lamp +inside.” + +Trevor, picking his way gingerly, was greeted by an odour of chemicals +that set him coughing. + +He touched his companion’s arm. + +“There’s a bottle been knocked down here,” he said. “I should be +careful how you go. Some of these things burn.” + +Armourer held the lamp so that its rays illuminated the roof. He +pointed to a few links of gold chain that still swung from a hook. + +“That’s what she was after, old son. She plagued me for it this +evening. You see, the pendant’s gone.” + +Trevor gasped. + +“But, man alive, she didn’t know where the shack was, she couldn’t +possibly have forced that door--” + +The magistrate waved his arms in the air. + +“It’s no use asking or implying questions. All I can tell you is that +the Crimson Butterfly has gone, that she’s got it on her now--and that +we’ve got to find her and bring her back.” + + + + + CHAPTER XXIV. + The Goddess of the Butterfly + +They were making for the open again when, in the light of the +hurricane-lamp Armourer still carried, Trevor noticed something. + +“Wait a minute!” + +The magistrate stopped and looked back. + +“What’s the matter?” + +The planter pointed to the concrete floor of the professor’s +laboratory. The fluid from the broken bottle had formed a dark patch +which had spread--like a fantastic map--halfway across the hut. Both +Englishmen, warned by the pungent odour, had avoided this patch when +they entered, but somebody who had preceded them had been less +cautious. On either side there were vague, smudgy tracks, and at the +far end, the clear imprint of bare toes. + +“More than one person has been here,” he said with conviction. + +“Yes,” conceded Armourer; “you’re right there.” + +He stepped outside and Trevor heard him engaged in conversation with +Sembilan. + +The magistrate thrust his head in at the door. + +“Come along, old son. This is beginning to get interesting. Sembilan +says there are four distinct tracks outside. Standen, it appears, +employs a good deal of water in his experiments--and slings most of it +out through the doorway. The soft state of the earth outside helps us +enormously. The awkward part of it is that those little half-moons +made by Mrs. Battiscombe’s heels peter out here altogether.” + +“Samar sent somebody for her,” suggested Trevor, “and she was carried +from here.” + +Armourer nodded. + +“I don’t think there’s the least doubt about that. Wherever his +hiding-place happens to be, it’s sure to be at a considerable +distance--and he could hardly have expected her to walk.” + +Trevor was stooping down, both hands on his knees. + +“Can your fellow tell us the direction they’ve taken?” + +“The devil of it is he’s found two tracks, both clearly marked, and +leading in different directions.” + +Trevor pursed up his lips. + +“Sembilan must be a pretty smart chap at the game, for I can’t see a +damn’ thing beyond a few smudgy foot-prints just where we’re standing. +The only conclusion I can come to is that the two paths were +deliberately made so as to throw us off the scent. There were four +tracks--or, rather, four sets of footmarks--you said. Those of Mrs. +Battiscombe and three others. I suggest that, to ensure a smart +getaway, Abu dispatched a couple of hefty men with a _pikul_--and a +third to hang around and make false paths to confuse us. Possibly this +third native met her close to your house and induced her to follow +that queer roundabout way through the trees, rather than keep to the +path. When they split up outside here, the bearers and Mrs. +Battiscombe must obviously have gone in one direction--and the +remaining native in the other. The larger party should naturally make +the biggest track.” + +Armourer whistled up his man, who was standing knee-deep in fern and +rank grass, staring solemnly in all directions. + +“The _Tuan_ Trevor thinks that three people went by one path and only +one by another.” + +“_Yah, Tuan_, that is so. The one who was alone came first and went +away alone. After a little while the white lady came with two men.” + +Trevor rubbed the back of his head. + +“Now, how the dickens does he know that?” + +Armourer smiled. + +“Sembilan has a gift for this sort of thing.” He turned to the +soldier. “Very well, we will follow the main track.” + +“Why not divide?” suggested his friend. “One of us could take +Sembilan--and the other go alone. For all we know, the lonely +gentleman may prove an important witness. If he arrived on the scene +first, it is probably he who forced the lock and pinched the pendant.” + +“I’ll go alone,” said Armourer promptly. “I know my way about here +better than you do. If anybody can follow the marks left by Mrs. +Battiscombe’s bearers, it’s Sembilan. You’ll be safe enough with him. +You’d better get along as fast as you can.” + +“But,” protested Trevor, “you won’t be able to follow the other route +without an intelligent native to help you.” + +The magistrate dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder. + +“Don’t you bother about me. I shall get in touch with one of my men +inside a quarter of an hour--and the professor’s shack is a good +pushing-off point. Have you got a gun?” + +Trevor grinned. + +“I have. Vance makes us all carry ’em now. The obvious inference is +that they’re for shooting butterflies! Cheerio!” + +“You know what you’re after,” Armourer shouted after him. “You’ve to +bring back Mrs. Battiscombe by hook or by crook. If Abu’s fellows show +any sign of resistance--shoot ’em! But try and keep one of them alive +until I can interview him as to Abu’s whereabouts.” + +He stood for some minutes watching the hurricane-lamp bobbing its way +out of sight among the trees, then tested his torch to reassure +himself as to the amount of _juice_ left in the battery. + +His pipe had gone out and he filled and lit it again. + +He was in two minds as to what his next move should be. He was still a +fair distance from his bungalow, and all his men, with the exception +of an orderly on duty and the cook-boy, were presumably still scouring +the district. If he decided to make his way back, he would run the +risk of missing the whole bunch of them and wasting valuable time. If +he endeavoured to follow the single native alone, it was ten chances +to one he would lose himself and his quarry into the bargain. In a +case of this sort, he was obliged to acknowledge the superiority of +native intelligence. + +Impatient as he was to accomplish something definite, he decided to +wait where he was. Sembilan had hit upon the route Mrs. Battiscombe +had taken, and, even without the evidence of the shawl on the +thorn-bush, it was more than probable some of the others would follow +suit. + +It was dark under the trees and, accustomed as his eyes had grown to +the gloom, he could only recognise objects at a few paces. The forest +seemed never still. There was a constant rustling, varied at intervals +by queer, crashing sounds, the piercing shriek of a night-bird, and a +weird groaning as branches high above him worked upon each other, +swayed by the breeze that had suddenly sprung up. + +He set his back against a trunk and tried to forget that there were +comfortable chairs at Jelandang, an unfinished meal and two unopened +bottles of champagne. + +Five minutes passed… ten… fifteen. + +His pipe went out again and he did not bother to replenish it. He +gazed all round him. There were no signs of his men, no footsteps, +distant voices--nothing.… Just that incessant modulated chorus of +jungle sounds: nothing more. + +It was beginning to get monotonous. + +For want of something better to do, he sauntered back into Standen’s +laboratory and flashed his torch over rough shelves stocked with +bottles, crucibles, lengths of glass tubing and measures. There was a +heap of papers in a corner of the bench, covered with neat groupings +of mysterious hieroglyphics, a tin-lid that had been used as an +ash-tray, and a rack of test-tubes of varying sizes. Tucked under the +bench he found kerosene-tins, some empty, some filled with water, and +a miniature Primus stove. + +It astonished him to discover how much the professor had succeeded in +raking together in the course of a few days. + +He looked at his watch. + +Trevor had been gone nearly half an hour. He wondered how he was +getting on. He wished now that he had gone with him. It seemed so +futile, waiting there--and yet he could not see what else he could +have done under the circumstances. + +The breeze was blowing harder now and the atmosphere was growing +chill. He turned up his collar. + +Another five minutes and he would go in search of his men. + +He was not an habitually nervous man and yet he hated the idea of +switching off that light. He tried the experiment and turned it on +again. + +As he did so, the pale rays were reflected in some bright object on +the floor by the doorway. + +He stooped and picked it up. + +It was a narrow, fluted circlet of gold, the size of a bracelet, and +broken to allow it to be fitted over the ankle of a native girl. He +had seen many of these things before, but never wrought is so precious +a metal. + +The light went out again and he remained in the darkness thinking +deeply. + +Even Sembilan’s jungle wisdom had failed to reveal this. One of the +nocturnal visitors to the hut had been a native woman. + +The discovery puzzled Armourer. + +Abu-Samar would not have dispatched a woman to help to carry Mrs. +Battiscombe. Could it be possible that the knowledge that the pendant +was kept unguarded there had got abroad, and that some brown-skinned +maiden from the locality had decided to steal it for its beauty. +Assuming such a possibility to be correct, it was doubly strange that +she should have chosen so momentous a night for her raid. What, too, +had caused the wrench that forced this mysterious female to part with +her anklet? + +He shone his light on the dark patch of fluid on the floor and tested +it gingerly with a finger-tip. He uttered an exclamation and wiped it +hastily on his coat. + +She had stepped into the chemical and burnt her foot. Clutching wildly +at the injured member, the anklet had been torn off and forgotten in +her momentary agony. + +He went to the door, slipping the torch into his pocket. Moonlight was +filtering through the trees, throwing ghostly patches of jet shadow, +describing a barbaric patchwork of black and gold. + +He stepped quickly back, feeling for the automatic at his hip. + +Some large object had passed between two trees not a score of feet +from the hut. + +Every nerve alert, he waited. + +It was coming closer… he could hear it now… soft, padding steps in +the open. + +He hazarded a look. + +A vague indefinite body, that might have been a man or even a giant +ape, stooped and grunted almost on the threshold. + +He levelled his pistol and flashed on the torch at the same time. + +A shrill scream pierced his ears, two arms swept wildly heavenward, +and a native woman stood erect before him, writhing and moaning in +mortal terror. + +She was lithe, and better-looking than the majority of her kind; there +were ornaments of silver and gold at her ears and wrists and the +Crimson Butterfly, the ends of its chain held together by a strip of +leather, hung at her throat. + +He caught her arm and threw her roughly behind him into the shack. He +fixed the switch of his pocket-lamp and rested it on its side on the +bench, then produced the anklet he had found. + +At the sight if it she uttered a joyful cry. + +“That is mine,” she whispered hoarsely; “I came back to find it.” + +He touched the ornament at her throat with his forefinger. + +“And that?” he demanded. “How came you by that?” + +“That is mine, too,” she told him defiantly. “It was stolen from me +and given to another woman, and for a time I did nothing because I was +afraid. There is a devil in this thing, O _Tuan-Hakim_, but while I +wear it the devil is silent. While I go free there is peace in the +forest and in the open lands beyond the forest; but he who seeks to +harm me--dies!” + +The magistrate tucked his revolver out of sight. + +“Who are you?” he asked. + +She held herself proudly, the crimson ornament sparkling at her neck. + +“I am she who men call Dara, whose home is where no trees grow, where +there is a tall hill and a fire that never burns out. I am the goddess +of the Crimson Butterfly.” + +Armourer scratched his chin. + +He stood for some moments looking at her, then picked up his torch. + +Presently a smile illuminated his features and a great hope rose +within him, warming his blood and surging to his head like strong +wine. + +“Come with me, Dara,” he said softly. “I have been seeking you for a +long while.” + + + + + CHAPTER XXV. + Outnumbered + +Arnold Trevor, hot on the track of Abu-Samar’s men, found it +increasingly difficult to keep up with his guide. + +Sembilan had divested himself of the boots his uniform included and, +knotting the laces together, carried them over one shoulder. The +stiffness of military training had gone out of him and once more he +was the savage, discovering passages through the dense undergrowth +where none seemed to exist, crouching, leaping, swinging himself on to +low branches like an ape to assist him in clearing the more formidable +obstacles that came in his way. + +In the soft earth by the bed of a miniature cataract, where giant fern +and lush weed grew in rank profusion, he threw himself on his face and +deciphered the impressions in the soil as a short-sighted student +might peruse a book. + +“Found anything?” demanded the Englishman breathlessly. + +Sembilan drew himself into a squatting position and his dark face +turned upwards. + +“_Yah, Tuan._ There are signs everywhere. Here they have walked--and +here; and there, on the other side of the water, there are many marks. +They have taken this direction.” + +And he began running along the bed of the torrent, forging uphill +where brown rocks showed amid a broken carpet of luxuriant moss. + +Trevor struggled after him. + +They came presently to the summit of a hill and stood gazing across a +stretch of open country bathed in yellow moonlight, pitted with holes, +tossed and denuded by some far-off volcanic shock. A hundred yards to +the eastward yawned a gaping chasm and, on the far side, two figures +had just emerged, carrying something swung from a pole that stretched +between them. + +The soldier put his hands to his mouth and let forth a wild, +discordant yell that echoed and re-echoed as if a thousand demon +voices had hurled it back at them in mocking derision. + +The foremost of the bearers turned his head and, a second after, both +began running towards the belt of trees beyond. + +Before Trevor could stop him Sembilan had unslung his rifle and fired. +A second shot followed the first and the nearest native stumbled +forward on to his knees, dropping his end of the _pikul_ to the +ground. + +His companion crouched low and, shouldering the rough hammock, pole +and all, slid down a steep bank out of sight. + +Trevor and Sembilan came to their feet together and ran for all they +were worth. The brink of the chasm held them up for a couple of +minutes, for its depths defied the moonlight and the path by which the +others had travelled was difficult to find. + +By the time they had crossed, their quarry had reached the trees. + +The planter paused by the side of the man whom Sembilan had shot and +marvelled at the accuracy of the soldier’s firing. The native was +still kneeling, his head against a boulder, and it took but a moment +to discover that he was dead. + +Trevor looked up to see that his dusky companion was still pressing +forward, and that he was in imminent danger of losing sight of him in +the forest towards which he was now heading. + +He swore softly to himself, sprinted for a couple of hundred yards, +tripped over a rock and fell, recovered himself, bruised and battered, +and resumed the pursuit again. + +Sembilan had vanished altogether, but he thought he knew the point in +the leafy screen through which he had passed. At all costs he must +find him. To be left alone in this ghastly wilderness would be tragedy +indeed. He was entirely without provisions and might wander for days +before he found his way to any civilised habitation. + +The moon passed behind a cloudbank with the trees still an appreciable +distance from him. He halted and stared round him blankly. Against a +pall of blackness a faint light shone. Sembilan’s hurricane-lamp! A +feeling of intense relief surging within him, Trevor hastened towards +the light. + +He found it presently, just the lamp, but no Sembilan! The man’s +intelligence had recognised his difficulty and left the lamp there to +guide him. He grabbed at the handle gratefully. Armourer had been +right when he had told him he would be safe with Sembilan. The little +soldier with the quaint round hat strapped under his chin was a host +in himself. + +The trees were taller here and the dense undergrowth of the more +stunted forests had given way to a moss which, though soft to the +feet, it was difficult to make progress over. + +A movement to his right made him hold the lamp above his head and, to +his intense horror, he saw an immense ape, standing in the fork of a +tree, staring stupidly down at him. The thing gibbered at him, smiting +its great chest until it resounded like a drum, and the planter, +knowing well that a bad shot would produce unpleasant complications, +slithered on in a panic. + +If he had once pined for adventure, he was wallowing in it now to a +degree far greater than he had bargained for! + +Something was going on ahead of him. He could hear extraordinary +grunting sounds, the noise of heavy bodies being dragged about among +the dried leaves… a hoarse panting for breath. With the memory of +that horror in the branches, it occurred to him that he might have +plunged upon a colony of these creatures, and that in the event of +such being the case his prospects of survival were singularly small. + +He turned completely round, swinging the lamp so that it threw its +light over a large area. + +He saw them now--two dark figures wrestling on the ground--and one of +these he recognised as Sembilan. + +As he plunged with a wild cry to his assistance, something swept his +cheek so closely that he felt the breath of it--and the lamp was +dashed from his hand. + +The impact of the blow set him stumbling. + +Supporting himself on one hand, he wrenched his revolver free from the +pocket in which he carried it, and fired into the shadowy mass that +hovered over him. + +The mass swayed away from him, uttering wild, unearthly yells that +woke the hairy denizens of the trees and sent them screaming and +whining in chorus. + +He heard Sembilan calling. + +“Quick, _Tuan_! The light!” + +He groped around him until he found it and, lifting what remained of +the glass chimney, applied a match to the wick. Presently a corner of +it caught the flame and he dropped the glass. + +Sembilan was kneeling over the prostrate form of a man--and Trevor’s +antagonist was nowhere to be seen. + +As the planter approached, the soldier rose slowly. + +“Dead!” he declared grimly. + +“Who is it?” asked the Englishman. + +Sembilan shrugged his shoulders. + +“Who shall say?--He leapt on me from a tree as I followed after the +man who carried the _mem_.” He rubbed his shoulder and screwed up his +face. “He had the strength of a panther--that man!--And yet I killed +him,” he added with pride. “We wrestled for a long time--and then I +tripped him and slipped from his hands. I split his skull with my +rifle-butt--so! There were others in the forest.” + +“I know,” said Trevor. “I fired at one of them myself. Which way have +they taken the _mem_?” + +The soldier shook his head. + +“I do not know, _Tuan_. Many people have been here to-night and it is +impossible to recognise one track from another. Abu-Samar has sent men +to stop us. They are bigger than the natives at the coast and they +carry poisoned darts and blow-pipes. We must wait for the light.” + +Trevor rested his back against a tree and mopped his forehead. He was +conscious of acute fatigue and an aching void within, but it went +badly against the grain to give up all hope of rescuing Mrs. +Battiscombe. + +“How far are we from dawn?” + +Sembilan consulted a patch of sky just visible through the trees. + +“More than three hours, _Tuan_.” + +“They will have carried the white lady a long way by now?” + +“A very long way.” + +A deep groan from somewhere close at hand attracted their attention. + +Moving warily, Trevor discovered a native doubled up in a hollow +beneath a giant tree. The man was lying in a pool of blood and there +was a hole in his side that the planter could have put his fist in. + +“There is your man, _Tuan_,” said Sembilan. “I think he cannot live +very long.” + +“Poor devil!” muttered Trevor. + +A thought struck him. + +“Talk to him, Sembilan; try and get him to say something. He should +know which way they have gone.” + +The soldier addressed the man in Malay, in the Dusun dialect, and in a +language Trevor could not follow. + +“It is no good, _Tuan_,” explained Sembilan after a while. “He does +not understand. He belongs to one of those tribes that live in the +heart of the island. He speaks only his own tongue--and who shall say +what that is?” + +The creature stiffened suddenly, clutched with both hands at the moss +and lay very still. + +“_Sudah habis_!” murmured the soldier. “It is finished, O _Tuan_!” + +He thrust an arm through the sling of his rifle and began threading +his way through the trees. + +“Where are you going?” asked Trevor. + +“Back to the open again. There is no good to be done here. It is not +so easy to shoot a man when he hides behind a tree. If Abu-Samar’s men +come in search of us, there are holes out there where we can lie in +ambush for them and pick them off before they find us with their +blow-pipes.” + +The planter hesitated. + +“I should like to see what is beyond the trees,” he told the man +doggedly. + +Sembilan shrugged his shoulders. + +“_Baik, Tuan_! If you go I will follow, and if you ask me to lead I +will lead; but after the trees there are more trees, and after that +more trees again. Also I know that the men Abu sent have not followed +the other, but are waiting in the shadows.” + +“And the _mem_?” + +The soldier shook his head sadly. + +“Not even the _Tuan-Hakim_--who is wise--could bring her back +to-night.” + +He reached over suddenly and knocked out the light. + +Five minutes later, when they were in the open again, with the stars +shining reassuringly down on them, Trevor turned to Sembilan. + +“What did you think you saw?” he asked. + +“I saw shadows,” said the soldier, “long patches of shadow that were +swiftly closing in on us--and the shadows had eyes!” + +“There are apes in the forest,” suggested Trevor. + +“These were not apes,” retorted Sembilan grimly. + +He cast an apprehensive glance over his shoulder and, catching the +planter’s arm, drew him behind a boulder as a shower of tiny objects +pattered to the ground like the first drops of a thunder-shower. + +Without waiting for a second occurrence of this phenomenon they ran +until they had placed the chasm between them and their unseen enemy. + +“Apes do not use the _sumpitan_!” announced Sembilan, as they came to +a halt. + +They were staring back at the trees, trying to get a glimpse of the +attacking party, when the soldier--who seemed to have eyes all round +his head--touched his companion and pointed to two figures swinging +towards them from behind. + +Trevor gripped his revolver-butt tightly, thinking for a moment that +the enemy had outflanked them. + +A reassuring remark from Sembilan set him laughing. + +“It is the _Tuan-Hakim’s_ men,” he said. “He has sent them after us.” + +They ran to meet them. + +The taller of the two men saluted and handed Trevor a note from +Armourer: + + + “My Dear Old Thing, + + “Use your own judgment. If you have any hope of success, take these + men with you and go right ahead. I’ll square things with Vance. If, on + the other hand, you have come to a dead-end, come back here at your + leisure. I have made an important capture. I am sending some _grub_ + along. I daresay you can do with it! + + “M. Armourer.” + + +The second man handed him a basket. + +It contained a loaf of bread, some butter and cheese, a tin of salmon, +a tin-opener, and an odd assortment of cutlery. + +But the thing which amused the planter most was a glowing tribute to +Armourer’s thoughtfulness and sense of humour: it was a bottle of +champagne, the gilded neck of which towered above all the other +contents of the basket! + + + + + CHAPTER XXVI. + Dara Decides + +Armourer posted a man at either entrance to his house, and, by dint +of patient reasoning with the brown girl, eventually succeeded in +persuading her to accompany him to the verandah. + +On the way from the professor’s shack he had discovered a great deal +concerning her character. She was suspicious, of course, obstinate as +only a native can be obstinate, perfectly capable, if bullied, of +maintaining a sullen silence and refusing to utter a syllable even on +pain of torture or death. + +He imagined that she had been employed as some sort of priestess at a +shrine and had somehow got it into her head that she was a goddess and +therefore entitled to respect. She walked with her head high, with an +easy swing of the shoulders and a proud, half-ironic smile always +playing at the corners of her mouth. + +She was lissom and good-looking, even when regarded from a purely +Western point of view; her hair was black and shining and drawn back +from her forehead to form a long, cylindrical knot behind a +particularly handsome head, and he had detected beneath this knot the +handle of a knife, the long thin blade of which was cunningly +concealed. + +It occurred to him that an enormous amount of tact would be required +to induce her to reveal the secrets that lay behind those lustrous +brown eyes. + +He tossed a cushion on to the floor and she squatted down on it, never +for a single moment withdrawing her gaze from his face. The +cigarette-tin caught his eye and he held it out to her. + +She hesitated, then drew out three together. She was fumbling with two +of them, trying to push them back with the others, when Armourer +spoke: + +“Keep them, Dara; you may have need of them. I have many things I want +to say to you to-night.” + +“The _Tuan-Hakim_ is kind,” she murmured. + +He lit his own and held the match until the end of her cigarette +glowed hopefully. + +“How do you know that I am a magistrate?” he asked. + +The girl smiled. + +“Because of the soldiers, _Tuan_, and because once I lived in a house +not very distant from here.” + +“Abu-Samar’s?” + +She exhaled a wreath of blue smoke and nodded. + +For some minutes the magistrate smoked in silence. + +Dara was not quite such an enigma after all. She had lived with +Abu-Samar and it was probably in his bungalow that she had learned to +smoke cigarettes. Already he was beginning to see hopes of drawing her +out. + +“And yet you are the goddess of the Crimson Butterfly?” + +She started. + +“_Yah, Tuan_, that is so.” + +He looked at his hands. + +“What was the goddess doing so far from her temple and her people?” + +A startled look had crept into her eyes and she gazed round her +apprehensively. + +“I am the _Tuan-Hakim’s_ prisoner?” she suggested. + +Armourer shook his head slowly from side to side. + +“The goddess of the Crimson Butterfly is no man’s prisoner. You are my +guest, little Dara. To-night we will find you a house and a bed and my +soldiers will be on watch outside in case Abu-Samar should come to +steal the Butterfly again.” + +She leaned back on her hands. + +“Abu-Samar is a strange man, _Tuan_, and very powerful. To him the +weapons of the little brown men are as nothing; walls cannot keep him +out. He comes and he talks and presently he goes again--and even the +dogs do not move in their sleep either at his coming or his going.” + +Armourer laughed. + +“You are afraid of Abu-Samar,” he told her, “and because you are +afraid you believe all these things. I, who understand, tell you that +these things are not possible. Samar has two arms and two legs and a +body.” He threw his automatic on to the table. “I need but speak +once--with this--and Abu-Samar will be no more.” + +She blinked at him. + +“Even you--who are wise--do not understand this man.” + +“Tell me,” said the magistrate, “all you think I do not know.” + +“About what, _Tuan_?” + +“About Abu-Samar and the temple in the wilderness where there is +always a fire burning. Tell me how you came to leave that place and go +with Samar.” + +She set her lips obstinately. + +“I cannot.” + +He played his trump-card. + +“Listen, Dara: To-night there was a white woman in this house and +Abu-Samar called to her and she went to him. Possibly she will live in +his house, as you have lived; she will wear the ornaments that you +have worn. He will take her to the temple and say to the people who +worship there: ‘See, this woman is very beautiful, more beautiful even +than Dara. She is the real goddess of the Butterfly!’” + +Her eyes opened wide--like saucers--and she sat staring into space as +if endeavouring to visualise the possible consequences of any +confession. A shudder passed through her frame. + +“Great _Tuan_, I was goddess of the Crimson Butterfly. I wore the +ornament at my throat and the big red butterflies flew in the light of +the brazier, hovering there to protect me. There were no other +butterflies anywhere; only those. Then Abu came and saw me. He came +many times after that. He brought presents and presently he spoke to +me. He asked me to leave the temple--to go away with him, and I was +afraid because of his eyes. I told him that the kiss of the goddess +was death, because the butterflies watched over her, and he went away. +He was gone for many moons and suddenly the butterflies left the +temple and flew away. Then Abu returned and took me.” + +Armourer crushed out his cigarette and felt for his pipe. + +“How did he make the butterflies go?” + +She shook her head. + +“Who can tell, _Tuan_? Abu has a magic that is very powerful. One +morning when I woke I found that the ornament was gone from my neck. I +spoke to Abu and he said that he wanted it for his magic. When we were +in the house in the trees that was burnt, the white lady came.” + +The magistrate crossed his legs. + +“Oh, yes?--Many times?” + +“Once only, _Tuan_. Abu made her come. He sent me away, but I watched +through a hole in the wall. He took the Crimson Butterfly from a box +and fastened it round her neck. She was very frightened and ran away +into the trees. But she kept the Butterfly.” + +“Where is Abu-Samar now?” + +She clasped her hands over her ears and rocked to and fro. + +“Do not ask me, _Tuan_. If I were to tell you, Abu would most surely +kill me.” + +Armourer leaned forward. + +“Dara,” he said earnestly, “this man Samar frightens people with his +eyes; that is why you, too, are frightened. Samar has a magic. There +are two kinds of magic, Dara--black magic, which is Samar’s, and white +magic, which is mine. The white magic laughs at the other because it +understands it. In a little while you will find here an old white man +with a beard who has a magic more powerful than either. We shall go to +Abu together, the old man and I, and you shall take us to him. We +shall take with us many men and guns. We shall take this white lady +from Abu and send her across the black waters in an engine-_kapal_. +Abu we shall bring back in chains. The servants of the British _Raj_ +will sit in judgment over him and hang him from a tall tree--and you +will be goddess of the Crimson Butterfly again.” + +He watched her keenly, anxious to discover what impression he had +made. + +She squatted there, still swaying a little, gazing thoughtfully at the +boards. + +“Before _she_ came,” she said softly, “I was everything to Abu. He +made me many promises. He swore to me that with the magic he had +stolen from the butterflies he would drive the white people from my +country. When they were quite gone he would be king--and I his queen. +The chieftains would be grateful to him and give him gold and ivory +and precious stones--and I should have wonderful things to wear.” + +“A king has many wives,” suggested the magistrate. + +She looked up at him and her face brightened. + +“That is true, _Tuan_; but I was to be his first wife--always. Now she +is there--and I am alone. Would that I had waited for her in the hut +in the trees--and killed her!” + +She rose suddenly and came across to where he sat. Dropping to her +knees by his chair, she clutched at his sleeve. + +“If I lead you to him, Great _Tuan_, will you swear to do all that you +have promised?” + +He surveyed her steadily. + +“By the word of an Englishman, I swear it.” + +“You will send her away on a boat that moves without sails, so that +she may never come back to him?” + +He nodded. + +“And to my people in the wilderness you will say: ‘This is Dara--the +real goddess--that was taken from you by the Evil One against her +will. See, I have brought her back to you.’ Then one of them will say +to you: ‘This is not so, for it is written that the kiss of the +goddess is death--that he who takes her--dies.’ And you will show them +the body of Abu!” + +Armourer suppressed a smile with difficulty. It amused him to hear +this child of the forest dictating to him the line of action he should +take. + +“I shall take you back, Dara,” he agreed without committing himself +too far. “I shall take you to the temple and talk to the wise men. +After I have spoken, they will keep you there. There will be rejoicing +in the villages and they will light fires and beat their gongs because +you have returned. It will be _hari besar_--a great day, Dara.” + +She stretched out an arm and gazed at the many bracelets that hung +from her wrist. A dreamy look came into her eyes and her expression +softened. + +“Many men will desire me,” she murmured. + +“And the red butterflies will come back to protect you,” he added, +calling upon his imagination. + +She sighed. + +“_Hari besar_! and Abu will be dead! It is a great pity, _Tuan_. I +loved that man more than all others.” + +Armourer recognised that they were running into dangerous waters. + +“The kiss of the goddess is death,” he reminded her quickly. “While he +lives the wise men will not believe that you went away unwillingly. +Abu has travelled far. Perhaps even he will seek out the white lady +again--and forget you.” + +She trembled visibly. + +“Abu must die!” she cried hoarsely. “I see that he must die.” + +The magistrate tried not to appear too eager. + +“I’m afraid so, Dara. In a day or two you will lead me to where he has +taken the white _mem_.” + +“_Yah, Tuan-Hakim_,” she responded slowly, “I will lead you--and you +and the other white man will protect me against him!” + +Armourer promised. + +He reached over and rang the bell for Chong-Si. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVII. + Armourer Plans an Advance + +There was no sleep for Armourer that night. + +Besides Sembilan and the two soldiers he had dispatched with a note +and provisions for Trevor, the force at his disposal consisted of a +corporal and two men, and from midnight onwards he kept these fully +occupied. + +Immediately after his momentous interview with Dara he sent the +corporal to Ketatan station with a wire for the Commissioner and +instructions to await a reply before returning. The remaining two left +at the same time for Vance’s estate, to borrow coolies and collect all +food supplies available in the district. + +The task of guarding the brown girl he shared with Chong-Si; but Dara, +far from seeking to escape, appeared anxious to remain in the company +of the white man who had promised to protect her, displaying +restlessness only on the few occasions when his duties compelled him +to leave the verandah. + +In company with the two terriers, Chong-Si regarded her presence there +with suspicion. In his experience as a cook-boy to European masters, +native women were only admitted to the living quarters when it was +intended they should become permanent members of the household, and he +had no desire for any black _ngi_ to assist him in administering to +Armourer’s comforts. Apart from this, the Butterfly ornament at her +throat inspired him with a sense of acute uneasiness. + +He had heard a vivid and rather exaggerated account of the death of +the man whose place he had taken, and the pendant that Dara wore bore +a striking similarity to the one in the story. Consequently, upon the +few occasions when he was left alone with her, he took care to put the +entire length of the verandah between her and himself. + +Mick and Mac--never quite able to forget the proximity of a +stranger--interrupted their slumbers on the long chair with +intermittent barkings and growlings intended to express their +disapproval, and to convey to the girl that she was only there on +sufferance and that at any other time, should it be their good fortune +to encounter her in the open, they would cheerfully combine in a +whole-hearted attempt to deprive her of her _sarong_! + +Dara, on the other hand, with the Crimson Butterfly restored to her +and Armourer’s assurances to lend her courage, treated all these marks +of disapproval with blissful unconcern. Upon the second occasion that +the arrangements for the forthcoming expedition compelled the +magistrate to absent himself, she rose from the floor, possessed +herself of the cigarette-tin, a box of matches and the cushion +Armourer had given her, and curling herself comfortably in a corner, +alternately smoked and dozed. + +Once only, when in a waking moment she intercepted a glance from +Chong-Si charged with all the venom and contempt that a low-caste +Chinee is capable of putting into his eyes, did she show signs of +being conscious of his presence. + +She responded to his look with interest, lowered her lids, shuffled +herself into a more comfortable position, and spat on the floor. + +It was Chong-Si’s first duty of the day to thoroughly clean that +floor, and her action, combined with the knowledge that he was +powerless to call upon her to remove that mark, cause him to writhe +inwardly. + +By a freak of doggy psychology, however, Dara’s misdemeanour was +destined to gain her a valuable ally in Mick, the more disreputable of +Armourer’s two dogs. On account of a reprehensible habit of hiding odd +bones and slaughtered vermin in corners of the verandah, Chong-Si and +himself had never been the best of friends, and he could not refrain +from admiring the coolness with which she had committed an offence +dear to his own heart! + +He cast a sidelong glance at the servant, descended from the chair and +crept, with ears back, towards the woman. He gained the object of his +desire in a roundabout manner, encircling in his rambling course most +of the articles of furniture on the verandah, sniffed at the floor, +cocked up one ear, backed growlingly from Dara’s first friendly +overtures, and succumbed abjectly to the second. The other terrier +shortly followed suit, and the magistrate, returning by way of the +stairs, found Chong-Si--ill-favoured and obviously ill at +ease--hopelessly outnumbered by a majority of three to one! + +Armourer, dropping into a chair, nodded to the servant. “_Baik-lah_, +Chong-Si! Go and sleep.” + +He clasped his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, trying +to discover whether he had forgotten anything vital. + +His eye fell on the decanter and he poured himself out a generous +helping, feeling that he had thoroughly earned it. + +Half an hour later Trevor stumbled up the steps and sat down heavily. + +“Well, old son! here we are, tired and mudded up to the ears and damn’ +glad to feel a decent floor beneath our feet!” + +Armourer pushed over his glass. + +“If you want a cigarette, that girl in the corner has them. How did +you get on?” + +Trevor groaned. + +“We covered a deuce of a lot of ground and indulged in quite a +respectable _scrap_ with some nude fellows armed with blow-pipes; but, +as far as Mrs. Battiscombe is concerned, we failed miserably.” + +He accepted a drink, lit his pipe and gave the magistrate the story. + +Armourer listened in silence. + +At the conclusion of the narrative, he sat bolt upright and, reaching +for the other’s hand, shook it hard. + +“Damn’ good man!” he commented. + +Trevor appeared surprised. + +“But we did nothing,” he protested. + +Armourer grinned. + +“I’m glad you call it nothing! I call it a deuce of a lot. I admit you +didn’t pull off the main object of your expedition, but you +accomplished all that could be expected of you and brought back a lot +of valuable information into the bargain. Our lady friend over there +has promised to guide us to Abu’s headquarters, but, in the event of +her failing us at the last moment, we know sufficient land-marks to +enable us to make a good start. More than that, we have learnt that +Abu has a considerable following, the nature of weapons likely to be +employed--and we can take precautions accordingly.” + +The planter conjured up a twisted smile. + +“It’s very decent of you to put it like that, but I can assure you I +don’t feel in the least bit satisfied with myself. To think that a +damned black scoundrel should be able to spirit a white woman from +under our very noses--and get away with it! That’s what gets my goat. +But we were so confoundedly handicapped. There was that confusion in +the beginning, with three or four people making tracks and nobody +quite certain which to follow. When we did make up our minds, it was +jolly rough going. To cap everything, Sembilan--who, by the way, +behaved like a Trojan--was held up by a fellow dropping on him from +the trees. To come down to brass tacks, I suppose _you_ ought to have +gone with Sembilan, and I should have waited by the hut until some +more of your chaps came up.” + +Armourer shook his head. + +“Not a bit of it! I shouldn’t have done any better, and quite probably +not so well. You came to the conclusion that any other sensible man +would have arrived at: that your obvious duty, on finding your party +outnumbered, was to trek back for reinforcements. Honour and glory are +two very fine things, and they look uncommonly well in print, but +there are times when a live man with a tongue in his head and a useful +pair of eyes is a damned sight more use than all your defunct heroes! +Our job is to get Mrs. Battiscombe back, and time is certainly an +important factor; but, with a genius like Samar to contend with, it +needs a properly organised expedition.” + +Trevor suppressed a yawn. + +“When are you going to start?” + +“As soon as ever I get official sanction from Jesselton. That ought to +be here any minute now. I’ve asked for a few more men and I hope to +get moving before the sun is well up.” + +The other’s face fell. + +“I suppose I’m out of this, as usual?” + +“Don’t you believe it! I’m taking the law into my own hands and Vance +will have to put up with being short-handed for a few days.” + +“He may decide to come himself; in which case I shall have to run the +estate.” + +Armourer shook his head. + +“I’m not giving him the chance. Between ourselves, I don’t think he’s +quite the man for this business. We’re bound to encounter +disappointments, and Vance is anything but a cheering companion in +adversity. Also he’s taken Moberly’s death so badly that he’ll want us +to assign him the privilege of dispatching Abu-Samar. My first duty is +to get Samar _alive_.” + +Trevor rubbed his hands together. + +“D’you know,” he declared, “I’m rather looking forward to this little +outing. I never fancied myself very much as a nigger-driver, but I’m +beginning to believe that hunting down criminals is the job I was +originally intended for. I wonder if you’ve a hundred or so cartridges +that’ll fit this pistol of mine?” + +The magistrate looked at it. + +“It seems to be the regulation bore.” + +“It is.” + +“Well, you’ll be relieved to learn that I can accommodate you. I +expect you’re tired.” + +“I am,” confessed the other. “If you happen to have a spare bed +anywhere, I’ll curl up on it for a couple of hours.” + +“You can have three to choose from. I’m not using mine.” + +Trevor unlaced his boots. + +“So that,” he remarked, nodding towards Dara, “is the important +witness?” + +“That’s it.” + +“Not a bad-looking girl.” + +Armourer smiled. “I’ve seen worse!” + +The planter came to his feet, boots in hand, and threw a final glance +into the corner. Suddenly he started. “D’you see what she’s got on?” +he demanded excitedly. + +“The Crimson Butterfly, you mean?” + +“Good Lord, yes! I thought we’d lost sight of it for ever. Are you +sure it’s quite all right?” + +“The Crimson Butterfly,” said Armourer, “appears to be one of those +things that is quite harmless when it’s in its right place. It happens +to be there at this moment. When you make your next appearance, I’ll +introduce you to Dara--the real goddess of the Crimson Butterfly!” + +Trevor whistled. “So you’ve snaffled _her_, eh? Well, it’s some +consolation to learn that somebody’s done something!” He disappeared +through the doorway of Armourer’s room without another word. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVIII. + The Antidote + +The Commissioner’s reply was brought to Armourer at a little before +seven. + +Like the greater proportion of official messages, it was at once +highly satisfactory and intensely irritating. + +The magistrate was ordered to proceed on his expedition against +Abu-Samar with the least delay possible; at the same time, he was on +no account to leave Jelandang before a suitable substitute had arrived +there to take his place. A runner had been dispatched to +Lindsay--whose _flying-column_ was understood to be somewhere in +Armourer’s area--instructing him to proceed immediately to Jelandang. +Armourer was to hand over his duties to him and to take command of his +men--who numbered eleven. Cases of ammunition and rations would be +placed on the morning train, and the magistrate was advised to have +bearers waiting at the nearest halt in readiness to receive them. + +The Commissioner was endeavouring to get in touch with Battiscombe, +and Armourer was enjoined to leave a suitable guide at Jelandang who +would proceed to Battiscombe, as soon as his party had been located, +and bring him along in support of the main body. + +He folded the letter carefully and thrust it into the upper pocket of +his tunic. Leaning on the verandah-rail, he watched the bustle of +preparation in the clearing below. + +A small army of natives, borrowed from a neighbouring village, had +replaced Vance’s coolies. Short, sturdy men, most of them nude from +the waist upwards, who chattered and laughed amid a pyramid of cases, +as if about to embark upon the greatest joy-ride in their experience. +A sturdy corporal, with an expressionless face, was methodically +obtaining order from chaos. Sembilan, as fresh as if he had slept the +round of the clock, was grooming Trevor’s pony, while Armourer’s +mount, already attended to, had wandered to where the grass appeared +to offer the most nutriment. At the foot of the steps a couple of men +were cleaning rifles. + +Armourer was turning the contents of Stewart’s letter over in his +mind. It was a comprehensive document, concise and well thought out, +and it gave the magistrate grim satisfaction to reflect that somebody +besides himself had lost many hours of slumber over the Abu-Samar +affair. + +The delay irritated him. He had planned, toiled, strained every nerve +to get away with the dawn, and now he found himself compelled to cool +his heels until Lindsay chose to roll up. But argue with himself as he +might, he could not deny the wisdom of waiting for those eleven +additional men. Then there was the question of the cases to be fetched +from the railway. The train was due at the halt at ten minutes past +eleven. More than probably it would be late--and the goods had to be +handled and brought across to the starting-point. More delay! It meant +postponing their departure until after lunch, and perhaps till the +evening, if Lindsay lost his way. With the knowledge that Samar had +men hanging about in the trees, he intended to move in as compact a +body as possible and run no risk of having his supply-column cut off. + +Chong-Si brought in the tea. + +Armourer poured out two cups and, opening the door of his own room, +carried them to where Trevor still slept. The planter stirred as the +mosquito-curtains parted, and looked up sleepily. + +“Hullo, old son!” + +“Hullo!” responded the magistrate. “How d’you feel?” + +Trevor sat up. + +“O.K. thanks. What’s the time?” + +“Somewhere around half-past seven.” + +Trevor slid his feet to the ground and took his cup. He stirred it +thoughtfully. + +“Suppose we’ll be pushing off soon?” + +Armourer shook his head. + +“I don’t see the slightest hope of starting before evening. Stewart +wants me to wait for my relief to arrive. That in itself is damnably +annoying, but he’s bringing us eleven men, for which I suppose we +ought to be thankful. Then there’s a lot of junk to be fetched from +the railway. It won’t be there before eleven, and I thought, if you +didn’t mind, that you might take the bearers over and see they don’t +hang about on the way.” + +Trevor felt for the slippers he had brought over in his haversack. +“Right you are! I’m game.” + +“I shall leave two of my own fellows with the new chap and a third to +join Battiscombe and bring him along after us as soon as the +Commissioner locates him. That leaves us fifteen men--eleven of +Lindsay’s and four of mine. Jimmy’s probably taken half a dozen on his +little jaunt, so we ought to have ample for the job.” + +Trevor blinked. + +“Got plenty of ammunition?” + +“I’ve a fair supply already--and there’s more on the way.” + +“And the brown girl?” + +Armourer nodded his head towards the verandah. + +“She’s still out there. As far as I can gather, she seems fit and +shows no signs of wanting to go back on her bargain. If we can get +away in the cool of the evening, we should make good progress before +nightfall. I haven’t the remotest idea how far we have to go, but it’s +going to be forced marching for everybody until we come in contact +with Abu-Samar’s outposts.” + +He took Trevor’s empty cup and, having disembarrassed himself of both, +perched himself on the foot of the bed. + +“I’ve been trying to reason myself into a sensible state of mind +regarding Mrs. Battiscombe’s predicament,” he continued. “She’s in an +unholy mess, of course, but I am inclined to believe she’s in no +immediate danger. You yourself can testify that she had no end of a +rotten trip into the backwoods. From the little I know of the effects +of hypnotism, I understand that it leaves people pretty weak. She was +only convalescent when she bolted from here and, although Jimmy +insists that she has a wonderful constitution, I’m convinced that this +last experience has brought on the fever again.” + +“Yes,” agreed Trevor, “I fancy you’re right there. Even if she went +away in some sort of a trance, she must have come to her senses by +now, and be scared into the bargain.” + +The magistrate placed a hand on either knee. + +“That’s just how I figure it out. You see, Trevor, that all this +confounded delay, although intensely annoying, means that we shall +have time to collect our wits and organise. We shall move as a +well-equipped, well-provisioned column, instead of straggling along in +little detachments that might come to grief if suddenly surrounded and +cut off by Samar’s men. They’ll get to work with their poisoned darts +in any case, and it’s quite on the cards we’ll have Abu’s collection +of insects to contend with as well; but some of us are bound to get +through. Then there’s the _moral_ effect of a determined punitive +force. Whatever influence our friend has over the tribesmen, they’re +bound to get uneasy when they begin to learn that Mrs. Battiscombe’s +abduction has been regarded, not from the point of view of ransom, but +in a far more serious light.” + +Trevor began spreading the contents of his haversack over the bed. +“I’ll get dressed at once,” he announced, “and you’d better turn in +for a spell.” + +Armourer smiled. + +“I shan’t attempt to sleep before lunch,” he said. “If by that time I +see no prospect of an early departure, I may try and squeeze in a +couple of hours. There’s a deuce of a lot of spade-work to be got +through yet.” + +The planter was surveying his mud-stained garments of the night +before. + +“I’m afraid I’ll have to borrow some clothes. If you happen to have a +suit that’s shrunk in the wash so much the better! You’re a good deal +bigger than me.” + +“I’ll see what Chong-Si can do for you,” laughed the magistrate. + +He shouted for the servant. + +“There’s one thing to be thankful for,” declared Trevor, “and that is +that Jimmy Battiscombe isn’t anywhere in the neighbourhood. He’s gone +through a lot lately and this last bit of news would about bowl him +over.” + +Chong-Si appeared at the door. + +“The _Tuan_ Trevor wants some clothes,” said his master. “Bring +everything you can find and let him choose for himself.” + +The Chinaman reflected for a moment and began pulling open drawers and +diving into the inner mysteries of a zinc-lined trunk. + +When Trevor met the train he found, not only the cases he had come +there to collect, but the genial professor and his pretty daughter. + +Standen was in great spirits. + +“Morning, Trevor!” he shouted from the coach. “So you’ve been raked +into this little affair too?” + +The younger man hurried forward to assist Joyce. + +As soon as both were on _terra firma_, Trevor turned to Standen. + +“You know what’s happened?” he suggested. + +The professor nodded. + +“The Commissioner sent me news last night, and I made arrangements to +return immediately. It’s a regrettable state of affairs, of course, +and I feel extremely anxious about Mrs. Battiscombe, but the incident +has brought the Samar business to a head, and I suppose that’s +something.” + +“Give me your _barang_,” said Trevor; “my men can carry it up with the +rest of the stuff. How d’you do, Miss Standen? You’ve arrived just in +time to see the start of what promises to be a really interesting +adventure.” + +A man poked his head from a window and called. + +“Say, Trevor, tell Armourer that young Lindsay’s on his way now and +should be at his place this afternoon. He’ll understand.” + +The planter waved an arm. + +“All right, Barnes, and many thanks. He’ll be glad to hear it. You +keeping fit?” + +“Fit as a fiddle. You look well.” + +The train moved on. + +They were on their way up the slope, with a straggling line of bearers +behind them, when the professor spoke again. + +“I suppose there is such a thing as luck,” he declared suddenly. +“Abu-Samar’s had it all on his side up to within the last couple of +days--and now it’s swung round to ours.” + +Trevor glanced up sharply, a puzzled expression on his face. “It’s +swung round, has it?” + +“Absolutely.” He tapped a large water-bottle which was slung from his +shoulder on a leather strap. “Everything depends on the contents of +this flask. I hit on it yesterday, after countless futile experiments, +and went down to Jesselton to put it to the test. Joyce and I are +joining your expedition--myself because I believe my presence is +essential, and my daughter because she refuses point-blank to be left +behind. Whatever horrors our black magician may have in store for us, +I am ready for him.” + +Trevor gasped. “You don’t mean to say you’ve found an antidote?” + +Standen patted the younger man’s shoulder. + +“There’s not the least doubt about it.” He beamed all over his face. +“That’s puts a different complexion on affairs, doesn’t it?” + +“By Jove, it does!” murmured Trevor. “It ought to prove the +turning-point of everything.” + +Joyce laughed. + +“Poor old daddy!” she said. “He’s _so_ pleased with himself. +Everybody’s been praising him and trotting round after him--and he +does just love being praised and trotted round after! He’s tried his +marvellous discovery on monkeys and native criminals, and he’s so +delighted with his new toy that I really believe he’d have +experimented on me, if I’d let him!” + +The professor shook his head delightedly. + +“There’s a daughter for you, Mr. Trevor! Her sole object in existence +is to hold her poor old father up to ridicule--but we’ve found the +antidote, my boy, and that’s all that really matters.” + +Lindsay reached Jelandang at four and at five-thirty Armourer rode +out, at the head of his column, with a fierce sun on its downward +course and a pleasant breeze shaking the topmost leaves of the palms. + +Joyce rode between her father and Trevor, and Lindsay, leaning over +the verandah-rail with two rebellious terriers tethered beside him, +watched them off. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIX. + In the Clutches of Abu-Samar + +When Vera Battiscombe came to her senses, she found herself lying on +a sort of hammock made from the entire skin of some animal and +fastened at either end to a wooden frame by means of leathern thongs. +A blanket had been thrown over her, and as soon as she was conscious +of the touch of its rough surface against her neck, she pushed it off +in disgust. + +She felt hot and sticky, her limbs ached, and there was an acute pain +behind her eyes, so that she was forced to close them continually, +opening them only at intervals to gaze in bewilderment upon her new +surroundings. + +Presently she raised herself on her arms and endeavoured, from a +mingling of memories, thoughts and fears, to discover something that +might account for her presence in so primitive a dwelling. + +The room was approximately ten feet square and, except for a heap of +miscellaneous articles ranged along the far wall and partially covered +with a length of sacking, there was scarcely anything in the nature of +furniture. There was a square of coloured matting on the floor, a +roughly carved stool, some odd sacks, which might have contained +grain, and a large earthenware water-jar. + +At the foot of her bed, a strip of matting concealed what she surmised +to be the only door; there were no windows and the light filtered in +through great chinks in the walls and gaps in the thatching above. + +The watch at her wrist registered a quarter to one, but she discovered +upon a closer examination that it had stopped. + +The atmosphere was one of intense heat and from somewhere close at +hand came the incessant buzzing of flies. + +She sank back again, one hand pressed to her forehead, and tried to +think. + +The throbbing was easier now. Gradually, as she groped for a +starting-point, the picture of Joyce’s room in Armourer’s bungalow +built itself up before her. How had she come to leave it? At some time +or other in her life--it seemed countless ages distant--she had +quarrelled with Michael about something. However her thoughts rambled, +they always came back to that. She had cried, she remembered now, and +gone back to her room. A Chinaman had brought her food--that would be +Chong-Si. She had found a pencil and written, and presently she had +gone out. She remembered that it was dark and that there were stars. +She remembered being frightened under the trees when she found that +she had lost her way, and a queer house with an open door. Something +had made her enter. Queer, disjointed fragments kept coming back to +her. She had been looking for something--something which persisted in +eluding her. + +“The Crimson Butterfly!” she exclaimed aloud--and then laughed at her +own folly in voicing what must have been an absurd hallucination--a +dream-phantom. + +She thought again. + +Perhaps this, too, was a dream? In a little while these unfamiliar +surroundings would vanish, and the walls of the sick-room--in which +she must actually be--would take their place. She remembered quite +well that she had been ill--very ill. Joyce had been there, sleeping +in another bed, and the professor, with his scrubby beard and serious +owl-like expression, had hovered over her. She seemed to recollect +that Jim had been there too; she had heard his voice on the verandah. + +A lizard, creeping suddenly into a lozenge of sunshine on the wall at +her side, screamed shrilly and she sat bolt upright. + +She rubbed her eyes, fingered the leathern thongs curiously, reached +over and pulled at the nearest sack--and a shower of rice pattered to +the floor. + +Her clenched fists pressed against her temples. It was real then--all +real! Merciful heaven! What did it all mean? + +She looked at her clothes. They were stained, crumpled and torn, and, +except for her shoes, she was in outdoor attire. Becoming curiously +scrupulous as to details, she stared round in search of those shoes. +She looked at the stool. There was something lying on it that she had +not noticed before. She leaned forward. It appeared to be a hat--a red +hat with a black tassel. She wanted to go over to it and examine it, +but her initial attempts to gain her feet sent her staggering stupidly +back on to the couch. + +She laughed weakly and suddenly dissolved into tears, her face buried +in her hands. + +Presently she choked down her sobs, summoned all the strength at her +command and made a further effort. This time she stumbled on to her +hands, pushed herself up again and finally fell in a heap to the +floor, setting the entire building rocking. + +She crawled the remainder of the distance and was within an ace of +touching the hat when horror seized her and she shrank from it as from +some ghastly apparition. + +It was a red _fez_! + +Abu-Samar! Where had she heard that name before? Her lips formed the +syllables glibly, as if the name were one which she had voiced +repeatedly. Abu-Samar! A tall man, in a blue suit and that same hat, +standing by a white bridge! A coloured man! It was all coming back to +her now, overwhelming her in great waves. + +She had gone to his house; but not this house. There were +orange-coloured curtains and a cedar-wood box brimming over with +precious ornaments that glinted and sparkled in the light. He had +given her a Crimson Butterfly--a ruby thing with emerald eyes, on a +chain of gold filigree. He had clasped it round her neck--and she had +run away, leading her pony after her. There was a blank here which she +strove to fill. She had lost that ornament somehow, found it, then +lost it again. That was why she had wandered out that night into the +trees. She went into the hut because she thought it was there. +Somebody had told her it would be there. + +She had wandered from the hut again into the open and shrunk back into +the shelter of a big tree. She had been very tired, had sunk to the +ground exhausted. After that she remembered little, save a sensation +of being whirled into the air by some mysterious force--and rocked +into a deep sleep. This slumber had continued apparently for +centuries, interrupted at intervals by wild nightmares, dreams of +falling from great heights, strange noises and the rushing of waters. + +A sense of unutterable loneliness gripped her, and, creeping over on +all fours, she drew back the matting from the opening. The scene that +met her eyes startled her. + +The hut in which she was revealed itself as a tree-dwelling, a crazy +crow’s-nest nestling among the branches, with a flimsy ladder leading +down to the ground, twenty or more feet below. Beneath her was the +long thatched roof of another building, to her right a few more +trees--and then, stretching to the horizon, a wilderness of moss-clad +boulders, over the whole expanse of which no living thing was visible. + +The mystery was deepening. The landscape was entirely strange to her. +How had she crossed that cheerless desert--and why? What was the +significance of her presence in this lonely, ramshackle dwelling on an +oasis in the midst of utter desolation. + +She thrust her head and shoulders forward cautiously, trying to see +what was at the foot of the ladder--and drew herself quickly out of +sight again. + +She had seen a colossal native, immobile as an ebony statue, with a +_parang_ sheathed at his side and a spear-shaft nestling in the crook +of his arm! + +She was a prisoner; Abu-Samar’s prisoner; for there on the stool was +irrefutable evidence. + +She clasped her hands over her knees and rocked to and fro in the +agony of her terror. + +And presently, as she crouched there, starting at every sound that +came from the earth below, the house itself or the tree-tops above +her, the jig-saw pieces that had defied her when she sought them crept +into the picture of their own accord and silently filled themselves +in. + +As he had prophesied at their first meeting, she had walked from her +own people--and come to him, apparently of her own accord, but in +reality in obedience to an insistent command that he had somehow +succeeded in transmitting through space. He had plagued her, tormented +her, haunted her sleeping and her waking hours until all the barriers +of her resistance had been broken down. + +Contrite now and immeasurably sorry for herself, she saw the Gehenna +that her own follies had wrought, stretched out her arms to the cruel +flames, recognising them, acknowledging their right to envelop her. +She had been faithless--faithless to Jim, faithless in a more limited +degree to Dick Moberly, who had paid bitterly for his infatuation. Her +thirst for conquest, her recklessness, her mad desire to employ her +beauty to ensnare every decent man who came in her way, had brought +her to this. + +She beat her forehead with her clenched fists in her misery. If there +were indeed a kind fate of any sort watching over her, she promised it +that, in the unlikely event of being snatched from the horror that +threatened her, she would act squarely with Jim for as long as she +lived. + +And then she fell the victim to another mood. + +After all, a voice within her argued, there must have been countless +women more culpable than she who had never been called upon to face +the consequence of their misdeeds like this. The instincts that had +impelled her to embark upon the course she had followed were inherited +ones, her looks had been given her at birth, the climate that gave men +fever had been her inspiration. This Samar, this primeval savage +masquerading in civilised attire, had planted himself deliberately in +her path, shaking her limited world from its very foundations. + +The thought of him made her shudder. She remembered the loathsome +touch of his fingers when he gave her the crimson pendant. And she was +in his power! + +She gazed round her helplessly. + +She must do something, feign sickness, madness, anything! She ran her +fingers madly through her hair, dishevelling it until she imagined it +encircled her head like an unkempt mop. + +She must disfigure herself, make herself so distasteful to him that he +would recoil from her. + +She wondered if anywhere among that pile under the sacking there were +a mirror. + +She was about to make for it when the sound of voices below brought +her to a standstill. Her heart beating a devil’s tattoo, she listened. + +Abu-Samar! The softer tones were surely his and the queer guttural +utterances those of the sentry outside. Somebody was coming up the +ladder. + +For seconds she remained there, rooted to the spot. Suddenly, with a +great effort, she threw off the _incubus_ that held her there, and +creeping back to her couch, drew the blanket over her. + +Frightened--horribly, genuinely frightened--she watched through +half-closed lids as the strip of matting swung inwards, revealing a +triangle of bright light across which extended an arm in a blue serge +sleeve. + +Abu-Samar, bending almost double, came into the room and the matting +dropped back into place. + + + + + CHAPTER XXX. + Abu Explains + +She lay there, on that rude native couch, delirious with fear, not +daring to glance through her lashes at the man who now bent over her. + +An icy chill ran down her spine as his fingers touched her wrist. + +“Better,” she heard him murmur in English, “decidedly better. The +pulse is still too rapid. To-morrow, perhaps.” + +To-morrow! Grasping in her ocean of trouble at a floating spar, this +word gave her immeasurable consolation. Michael, Jim, all of them +perhaps would be searching for her, and this postponement of her fate +gave them still a few more hours in which to accomplish her rescue. + +He was moving about the room now, muttering to himself in a dialect +that was new to her. Presently he dipped a bottle in the water-jar and +she heard the bubbling as the fluid replaced the air. + +She hazarded a glance. + +He had drawn a gourd from under the sacking and was pouring water into +it from the bottle. He rinsed it and threw the drops to the floor. + +As he turned to approach her, she closed her eyes again. + +He set both bottle and gourd at her side and retreated to the far end +of the hut. + +Presently he came back again, slipped an arm under her and, supporting +her firmly in a sitting position, forced some liquid between her +teeth. It was cold and bitter and she swallowed some of it knowing +that it would not be poison. + +He withdrew his arm and she fell back limply on to the bed. A new life +seemed to be coming to her and she was aware of a sensation of +comfort, of inward warmth. + +She felt that his eyes were upon her. + +“Sit up, Mrs. Battiscombe,” he commanded softly--and, in spite of +herself, she obeyed. + +“Open your eyes.” + +She opened them wide. + +Abu-Samar, cool and perfectly attired even to his soft collar and tie, +was staring down at her. + +He drew forward the stool and sat down on it. + +“And so, Mrs. Battiscombe,” he purred, “you have come to me at last.” + +She compressed her lips. She knew that she must humour this man, +stifle her feelings, strain every nerve to avoid uttering some +ill-considered retort that would be calculated to goad him into fury. + +“Where am I?” she inquired weakly. + +His features twisted into an expression that was at once scornful and +mockingly apologetic. + +“You have come to the humble quarters of Abu-Samar, the refuge in the +wilderness to which your own people have driven me. Presently, when +the hue and cry has died down, when they have given up all hope of +tracing you, we will build ourselves a palace.” He indicated the +jumbled heap along the far wall. “From the smoking ruins of my house +at Bukit-Serang we succeeded in saving a few of my treasures. In a +little while we shall have more. The native vessels will bring carpets +and curtains and furniture from the coast and men will wait by the +river to transport them here. We shall have comfort such as the white +man does not understand, and the tribesmen, who are afraid of me, +shall be our servants.” + +He produced a cigarette and, lighting it, puffed thoughtfully. The +blue smoke hung in the still air above him as he exhaled it through +his nostrils. The fierce light had gone out of his eyes, his whole +expression had softened, and he appeared to her at that moment, not as +the fierce, vindictive Anglophobe she had always pictured him, but +rather a languid, luxury-loving Oriental, basking like a lizard in the +heat. Now that he had allowed himself to relax, she could better +appreciate the fine outline of his dusky profile and the ease with +which he managed to pose elegantly without apparent effort. + +“I have sent that other girl away,” he continued presently. + +She simulated interest. + +“Oh? What other girl?” + +“Dara--the brown woman you saw at my house when we first met. She grew +jealous when she learnt that you were coming--and so I turned her out. +She told me I was mad to bring you here, that the white men would come +with their soldiers and guns and take you back; but we have waited +five whole days--and still they are not here.” + +He threw back his head and laughed. + +“I am not afraid of your people; their guns are nothing to me. They +have all tried to take me--the Frenchmen in Anam, the Dutch, the +English in Sarawak--and now it is the English again. Every time I have +beaten them. For I have harnessed forces they do not know, I can shoot +out my tongue like a chameleon--and kill--and draw it back so that +none know whence it came. I can whisper across a continent--and those +to whom I wish to speak can hear me.” + +He laughed again, and he reminded her strangely of a hawk. + +“I frightened them with the Crimson Butterfly. That is the greatest of +all my secrets, Vera. I discovered it not far from here, where there +is a temple among the rocks and men worship these creatures. Dara was +there then, guarding the shrine--and I saw that the butterflies did +not harm her. There had always been a woman in the temple--and the +insects had grown used to her; but they fell in swarms upon any man +who sought to steal the emblem at her throat or spirit her away--and +stung him to death. I found a man who had once worshipped the Crimson +Butterfly--and he told me many things. It appeared that the priests +destroyed the caterpillars when they came to life, only sparing so +many, and that they smeared themselves in a preparation, so that they +should not be stung. Sometimes, however, a priest was poisoned by a +butterfly; the mark appeared on his skin, and was removed by a certain +process in order that the worshippers should not know why he had died +and still continue to believe in their immunity. I went away for a +long while and thought. I wanted to discover how I could best make +this secret of use to me. There was a legend that there had once been +a white goddess at the shrine and that after a certain time had +elapsed she would come there again. Presently a plan occurred to me. I +wanted to exploit their secret and to induce the worshippers to help +me in my campaign against the white man. I made them a promise. I told +them that one day Dara would disappear and then the white goddess +would return. I went to a place they did not know and made an enormous +red butterfly and hung it in the trees. I found that the butterflies +left the temple and came to it. I smeared myself in the preparation +that I had managed to procure, and, after a few hours, I destroyed the +thing I had made--and the insects left me and flew back. I made +another and they returned, and I caught them as they hovered over it. +Then I took Dara.” + +The ash from his cigarette had fallen in a heap into a crease in his +coat and he paused to brush it off. + +Vera, her head supported on one arm, regarded him steadily. + +“And after that----?” she asked. + +“After that I saw you and realised that I had found my white goddess. +I went to your husband. I wanted an excuse to see you again. He +insulted me and I decided to destroy him. I decoyed you to my house +and gave you the ornament. For some reason you sent it to Moberly--and +he died instead. When you found him you fainted and they sent for me, +believing me to be a doctor. The Butterfly pendant had vanished and I +wanted to get it back. I believed the magistrate Armourer had it and +sent out another butterfly to poison him. I was beginning to +understand the power of my secret, you see. I have heard since that +his servant found the ornament and perished. The priests of the temple +came to see me, demanding that the white goddess should appear, and I +knew it was time to compel you to come to me and bring the sacred +emblem with you. Believing that you knew where it was hidden, I willed +you to leave the house and find it, and sent out men to follow you and +bring you here.” + +He spread out his hands and dropped them, palm downwards, to his +knees. + +“You came, my white goddess, but the Butterfly is missing.” + +“I remember now,” said the girl. “I looked for it everywhere but could +not find it.” + +His eyes sought hers and again she saw that queer light that +frightened her. + +“Where did you think it was?” + +“In a hut in the trees. Mr. Armourer told me that Professor Standen +had it there. Somehow I found my way to it through the forest. When I +reached it the door was open and there was no Butterfly.” + +The ease with which the words came to her lips astonished her. + +He bit his lip. + +“We shall find it again,” he declared confidently, “Until then you +shall remain with me. When the ornament returns, I shall clasp it +round your neck and take you to the temple. For a little while you +will remain there, so that these people shall still have confidence in +me and help me. As soon as I have accomplished my end, I shall take +you away again and we will go to another part of the island, where I +was born. There will be no white people here then. I shall have +destroyed them all. I shall not use the ornament again. I have insects +now that have never seen the charm. One day I shall open the doors of +my breeding-house and they will fly everywhere.” + +Vera shuddered. + +“I talk to them,” pursued Samar dreamily, “and they fly on to my hand. +I walk among them unharmed because they know me. To some extent even I +can control their flight.” + +The effects of the drug he had given her were wearing off and already +she was feeling weaker. + +“It’s horrible, horrible!” she cried, and Abu-Samar rose to his feet. +Before she could draw it away, he had imprisoned one of her hands and +touched it with his lips. + +The next moment he was gone. + +Presently she fell asleep and it was evening when she woke again. The +atmosphere had grown appreciably cooler and gusts of wind lifted the +thatch above her head. + +Suddenly she heard a sound that sent her swaying across the floor to +the covered doorway. She heard shouting and what she imagined to be +distant rifle-fire. The noise was coming nearer and something passed +the hut with a shrill whining sound. + +She peered out. + +Darkness had almost fallen and the wilderness was enveloped in a faint +mist through which she saw bright tongues of flame and shadowy figures +running. + +She sank to her knees and clasped her hands. + +They had come to find her! They were coming that way! Heavens! it was +wonderful! + +A dark form appeared suddenly on the ladder and a muscular arm swept +her into space. She was flung like a sack over the native’s shoulder +and borne, struggling, on the perilous descent to the ground. + +She screamed aloud, hammering on the ebony back with her fists. + +At the foot of the ladder, the man shifted her on to his other +shoulder, skirted the trees and ran rapidly with her into the falling +darkness. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXI. + Trapped in the Breeding-House + +It was five days since the punitive force had left Jelandang, and +during all that time Armourer had never let the brown girl out of his +sight. + +Night and day they had pressed forward, halting only to ease the +bearers when the sun was at its height, and, of the European members +of the party, only Joyce had enjoyed more than a few moments of sleep. +They had made a rough hammock for her which the magistrate’s men had +carried in turn. + +The route chosen by Dara had been different from that which Sembilan +and Trevor had followed; they had studiously avoided all native +villages and settlements and, until the evening of the second day, no +opposition at all had been encountered. + +Battiscombe’s expedition came up with them as they paused in the last +belt of trees before descending in skirmishing order upon the stretch +of open land in which Dara assured them Abu-Samar’s hiding-place lay. + +Upon learning of his approach Armourer himself went back to meet his +colleague, taking the native girl with him. + +He sighted Battiscombe, still red of face and decidedly thinner, +marching at the head of a ragged line of troops and natives. + +“Hullo, Jim!” + +“Hullo, Michael! Thought we were never going to catch you up! You’re +in a devil of a hurry, aren’t you?” + +It struck Armourer at that moment that his friend knew nothing of his +wife’s abduction. + +They shook hands. + +“Tell your fellows to be careful not to leave the trees. As far as I +can make out, we’ve out-flanked Abu’s scouts. There’s a useful sort of +mist coming and in about ten minutes I’m going to rush the position.” + +Battiscombe lowered himself to the ground and mopped his forehead. + +“It’s all too confoundedly strenuous,” he groaned, “Give me my jolly +old court-house and a comfortable magisterial chair with a back to +it!--Who’s the girl?” + +“Samar’s discarded lady-love. She’s bubbling over with jealousy and an +earnest desire for vengeance, and has elected to act as our guide.” + +The larger man shuffled himself into a patch of shadow and removed his +sun-helmet. + +“Lord, Michael! I’ve covered a deuce of a lot of ground since last I +saw you. I’ve forded rivers, scaled mountains, wallowed in swamps, +lost a man with snake-bite, run short of rations and haggled with +insolent native potentates over the mere necessities of life!” + +In spite of the unpleasant news he sought an opportunity of conveying +to the other, Armourer could not resist this: + +“Did you find any leeches?” + +Battiscombe grinned. + +“Hundreds of ’em! So many that I’ve got quite used to them. I’m that +hardened that I look upon a day without a leech as an uneventful +period of time! How did you leave Vera?” + +Armourer’s face became suddenly serious. + +“We didn’t leave her, Jim,” he said, looking the other straight in the +eyes, “she left _us_.” + +Battiscombe started to his feet. + +“What d’you mean, Michael?--She’s gone to Rembakut?” + +“No,” replied Armourer steadily, “she’s gone to Abu-Samar.” + +Battiscombe staggered back as if he had been struck. + +“Gone to Abu-Samar!” he echoed, and caught the other’s arm. “How did +this happen? What in the name of heaven were you doing to let her +go?--Good Lord, man! I left her in your charge.” + +“I know that. Trevor was dining with me when she went. She had decided +to take dinner in her room and Chong-Si was looking after the three of +us. He came in suddenly with the news that the _mem_ had gone out--and +brought me a note from her. We didn’t stop to do anything, but +dispatched every man we could lay our hands on to look for her, and +joined in the hunt ourselves. She went out deliberately to join Samar, +but you mustn’t blame her for that. He seems to have hypnotised her. +Trevor, myself and Sembilan--the chap I sent to guide you--got on her +trail. There were two distinct tracks--and we split up. Trevor and +Sembilan almost overtook the fellows Samar had instructed to pick her +up, but were held up by a posse of natives with blow-pipes. I collared +Dara--the woman I have here now. I cabled Jesselton for instructions, +spent the whole night organising an expedition, and have been on the +go ever since.” + +He could not see his friend’s face--it was hidden in his hands. + +“Good God!” he muttered, and then: “Poor little woman!” + +He squared his shoulders and turned fiercely on Armourer. + +“We must get her back; don’t you understand? We must move _now_.” + +“I know,” returned Armourer. “We’re only waiting for you.” + +They left both bearers and horses in the forest. Joyce was to follow a +little after the main body, with her father, Trevor and two of +Armourer’s men. The remainder spread out like a fan--Michael and the +girl in the centre, Battiscombe on the right and Corporal Kuraman on +the extreme left. + +They had covered about three hundred yards, with Samar’s retreat dimly +outlined in the distance, when a large force of natives sprang +suddenly into being, emerging from behind the cover of the boulders, +and greeted the attacking party with wild, defiant yells, followed by +a shower of darts. + +“Drop!” yelled Armourer; “drop down, all of you. Don’t fire wildly; +pick out your men!” + +He snatched a rifle from the soldier who was nearest and dropped a big +native before he could draw back into cover. + +The battle had opened. Shots rang out on all sides, bullets found +their mark, flattened themselves against boulders or whined +plaintively on into space. The natives replied vigorously, sending +over showers of darts with so reckless a profusion that Armourer +smiled grimly to himself. He scented that the noise and flash of the +rifles was getting them rattled. Their own weapons were such that they +had to expose themselves to fire with any degree of accuracy--and the +uniformed troops handled their guns like veterans, with a savage +delight at having some inspiring sort of target to blaze away at. + +At the end of the fourth big hostile shower, he waved his handkerchief +and shouted at the top of his voice: + +“Fix bayonets! Up--all of you--and let ’em have it!” + +There were casualties then--three of them, but they had the +satisfaction as they ran, crouching low, to see big bunches of men +break from cover and scuttle like rabbits, tumbling one over the +other. + +A hundred yards and the Government troops had flattened out again, +preceding their antagonists by minutes and wreaking fearful havoc +before the knots had gained time to disperse. + +A couple more similar manœuvres, and blow-pipes had been flung aside +for _parangs_ and _krises_. A brief determined stand, and the rot +which Armourer had fervently hoped for began to set in. + +He emptied his revolver, downed a big native with his fist, stunned +him as he strove to rise with his weapon held like a knuckle-duster, +and filled up again. + +Groups of men, obviously intended as enemy reserves, bolted back +behind the long buildings and vanished into the mist. + +At the fall of darkness, Armourer’s whistle brought together +Battiscombe and twelve men, and a few moments later the professor’s +little rear-guard joined them. + +“Six--no, seven missing,” declared the younger magistrate. + +Three more straggled up. + +Armourer heaved a sigh of relief. + +“Can anybody see any more knocking around?--We’ve still four to +account for.” + +Corporal Kuraman came forward. + +“Three were hit in the first attack, _Tuan_,” he said. + +Armourer nodded. + +“All right, Kuraman. I daresay we lost another after that. I say, +Jimmy! that’s not too bad, is it?--With your permission, I’ll send +your corporal and two others to bring any wounded they find to that +long hut over there. We’ll make that our headquarters for the time +being.” + +Battiscombe was thinking of Vera. + +“Better see what’s inside,” he suggested--and they moved forward +again. + +They advanced warily until the clump of trees and the building which +ran beneath were completely encircled. + +It was a long hut, with a door at either end. + +Armourer tried the nearest one without success, but Trevor, who had +moved round to the far side, called out: + +“I say, you fellows, we can get in here; it’s propped open.” + +Armourer selected three men, sent them forward to reconnoitre, and +joined Trevor. + +“Be careful how you go; there may be a trick here.” + +He looked back to see Joyce and her father close behind him, and, a +couple of paces distant, the brown girl, who stood watching with +folded arms. He remembered suddenly that he had not noticed +Battiscombe for some minutes. + +“Seen Jimmy, anybody?” he asked. + +“Yes,” said Trevor, “I caught sight of him a short while back. He was +sending one of the fellows up that ladder to see if the shack up there +was inhabited.” + +Armourer shouted for a lamp. + +As soon as one was brought, he kicked open the door and, holding it +open with one hand, stepped inside. + +Trevor was at his heels. + +“Professor,” called the magistrate, “don’t come in, if you don’t mind. +Look after Miss Standen and see that the men keep well spread out +round the building. I’ll shout for you if we want any assistance.” + +The planter, who was staring round curiously, uttered a cry. + +“Look out! There’s one of those confounded butterflies!” + +He made a shot at it with his hat and it fluttered past Armourer, who +snatched up the piece of wood that had held the door open and knocked +it to the ground. Before he could put his foot on it, it had crawled +out into the darkness. + +“Standen,” he cried at the top of his voice, “one of Samar’s insects +has got loose.” He held the lamp through the doorway. “I don’t see it +anywhere, but I know I hit it.” + +He stepped back into the hut and the door swung to behind him. + +There was something unpleasantly definite about the way it closed that +made Armourer attempt to open it again. He tried it several times, +then picked up the lamp and held it close to the lock. + +“What’s up?” asked his companion. + +Armourer looked at him. + +“We’re locked in, old son, like the pair of idiots we are.” + +The planter shrugged his shoulders. + +“It’s not made of cast-iron; we can soon break our way out.” + +Armourer made his way down the centre of the building. + +“It’s not that that worries me,” he informed him, “but the fact that +there may be a lot of unpleasant surprises in store for us before we +can break out. Lord! what’s all this?” + +He held the lamp until its light fell upon tier upon tier of broad +wooden trays, strewn with freshly-picked green leaves. + +Trevor possessed himself of a leaf and, dropping it quickly, put his +foot on it. + +“Caterpillars,” he declared. “Nasty striped things, with _horns_!” + +Armourer stuck an empty pipe between his teeth. + +“I tell you what, old son,” he said, “we’ve struck an uncommonly +pleasant little packet this time; we’re in his breeding-house!” + +The colour left Trevor’s cheeks. + +“What’s that?” + +“This is where he breeds the crimson butterflies.” + +The planter turned on his heel. + +“In that case we’d better get out before they make nasty-looking +patterns all over us. I’ll see how a round or two’ll influence his +patent lock.” + +“All right,” returned the magistrate, “carry on with it. I’m going to +see what there is at the far end.” He blundered into a wooden +partition and opened the door it contained carefully. There was a +light inside, and he set down his lamp on the floor behind him. His +automatic and his face came into the opening together, and, as they +did so, he caught sight of a figure standing erect, one hand on a +wooden bar. It was Dr. Abu-Samar. + +The expression on the creature’s face was that of a beast of the +forest driven to bay. A wild light danced in his eyes, and he crouched +suddenly, putting the whole of his weight on the lever. + +“Hands up, Abu!” said the Englishman coolly. “I’ve got you.” + +“Not yet, O Englishman!” came the muttered reply, and at that instant +the light went out. Something dropped somewhere and Armourer felt a +cool inrush of air. He fired two shots at where he imagined the secret +trap in the wall to be, reached back for his own lamp, and started +forward. + +It was only then that he realised why Samar had waited. + +The walls were lined with countless small cages, all of which were now +open, and the air was alive with the flapping of wings. + +He heard Trevor firing into the lock and yelled to him to close the +door when he got free. The insects were everywhere, fluttering against +the roof and the walls, swooping down on him with a vicious, droning +sound. He dropped the hurricane lamp and hit at them wildly. One +settled on his tunic and he dashed it off. At all costs he must shut +that trap. It would be the greatest calamity in the world if they +found the open. + +He saw it now--a hole a yard square--but a few feet to his left, with +the square of boarding that had covered it lying on the floor. He +stripped off his coat and swept it in all directions, beating for +himself a path through the danger that descended upon him in a crimson +cloud. + +He plunged to his knees, and drawing himself through the aperture, +thrust in an arm and pulled the boarding back into place. As he did so +he felt a sharp, burning sensation at his wrist. He crushed the +butterfly against the outer wall, but already the damage was done. + +His shout brought a soldier to the spot, and almost immediately +afterwards the professor and Joyce. + +They found him pitched forward on to his arms, and in those last few +seconds of consciousness he recognised them. + +“They are all in there,” he muttered, “the butterflies--don’t open +anything--Samar got out first--One of the brutes stung me.” + +He rolled over on to his side, and the professor felt for his +hypodermic syringe. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXII. + Battiscombe Brings News + +Acting on the professor’s instructions, they brought down the rough +bed that had been Vera Battiscombe’s couch such a short time before, +and laid Armourer on it. + +The bearers, led by a runner, had already joined the main body, and a +brown canvas tent was quickly erected over the sick man. + +Thereafter Trevor--in the absence of Battiscombe, who had mysteriously +disappeared--took charge. + +Ably instructed by the indefatigable Kuraman--who had reported three +men as dead and delivered the remaining third to Standen for +treatment--a breastwork of cases and boulders was run up around the +encampment. Failing the return of his scouts, Trevor realised that an +advance into hostile country before dawn with so small a company would +be distinctly unwise. + +He explained his views at some length to Dara, who merely shrugged her +shoulders and spread out her hands, as if to indicate that the white +lord was wiser than she and must presumably know his own business +best. She thereupon threw herself on the earth outside Armourer’s +tent, in so awkward a position that the professor tripped over her on +coming out and it was only the timely intervention of the planter that +prevented him from falling headlong. + +“How is he?” asked the younger man anxiously. + +The professor rubbed his beard. + +“Oh, we’ll pull him through all right. You can’t accomplish these +things in a few minutes, but we got him in time. Pity that Samar +fellow slipped through our ring. You saw how it happened, of course? +He had dug a ditch just outside his emergency exit and cunningly +covered it up. He must have wriggled through it like a snake till he +passed our men, and then scuttled off into the darkness--Have you +found Battiscombe?” + +Trevor shook his head. + +“I can’t think what’s happened to him. I suppose Armourer told him +about his wife, and he decided to clear off with the reconnoitring +party. I hope he’s all right.” + +Standen struck a match and looked at his watch. + +“Nearly nine,” he announced. “What about some food?” + +“I’ve set a couple of fellows preparing a meal. It’ll be the usual +tack--bread and cheese and tinned stuff, with tea to follow. We can +start right away if you like. Where’s Miss Standen?” + +The other nodded towards the tent. + +“I’ve left her with him. She seems to have been doing nothing but +nursing lately, but I fancy she likes it.” + +“It’s jolly good of her.” + +The professor chuckled. + +“I may be old, Trevor, but I’m not as blind as some people like to +imagine. Joyce’s mother has been dead for more than fifteen years and, +in spite of my studies, I’ve had ample time to understand my own +daughter. She’s infinitely happy to be of use to your little +expedition, of course, but I believe she’s even more glad that her +patient is Michael Armourer--er--This is in strict confidence, you +understand.” + +He wiped his glasses and replaced them. + +“Now, what do you say to a meal?” + +“I think,” said Trevor, “that Armourer, when he comes to himself, will +more than appreciate the fact that Miss Standen is his nurse.” + +Standen thrust his arm through that of the planter. + +“So that’s so, is it? Well, I’m glad to hear it. Armourer’s an +Englishman and a gentleman, and, as far as I can see, he has a clean +record. I don’t ask anything better than that.--Where did you say they +were preparing our repast?” + +Trevor piloted him to a spot where a hurricane-lamp stood on a case +with a miscellany of enamelled ware and cutlery encircling it. + +They were lighting their pipes when Battiscombe appeared from nowhere +and grabbed at a hunk of bread. + +“Jove! I’m hungry!” + +Trevor raised his brows. + +“Where the deuce have you been?” he demanded. + +“A dickens of a way. I took charge of those three men Armourer sent +out. We scoured the country pretty thoroughly and eventually got into +touch with a score or so of disconsolate tribesmen, who capitulated +without offering resistance. I think they imagined we had the whole +British Army behind us. Lord! they were scared.” + +The professor blinked. + +“Well?” + +“Oh, we had a long palaver, conducted mostly by signs, until I +discovered that their leader understood some Malay. After that we got +along famously. It’s queer what fat-headed notions some people get +into their heads!--these chaps worship that confounded Butterfly, you +know!” + +He munched for some moments in silence. + +“All I wanted to know was what had happened to my wife. It seems that +this confounded Samar promised them a white goddess instead of the +black one they already had. Vera was to be the goddess. They’ve taken +her up there now and there’s to be no end of a big ceremony to-night. +My friend assured me that they didn’t intend harming her. Then I got a +word in. I explained that the lady in question was my wife, the child +of quite ordinary human beings, and that I could vouch for the fact +that she hadn’t at any time dropped from the skies. That set them +thinking. They gibbered away for some time and then announced that +they, personally, had lost all faith in Abu-Samar and would cheerfully +exert their influence on our behalf upon their fellow tribesmen. I’ve +brought ’em back with me.” + +He reached over for the cheese. + +Trevor perched himself on the edge of the case. + +“What do you want us to do?” + +Battiscombe, his cheeks bulging, regarded him solemnly. + +“This is a time for tact,” he declared. “We’ll leave half our men +here, and taking the remainder with us proceed directly to where this +gigantic jamboree is being held. We’ll carry arms, of course, but I +don’t think we shall require to use them. One of the most important +points against Abu-Samar is that his new goddess isn’t wearing the +pendant. She can’t be, because I noticed it on the brown girl this +evening. Abu’ll have his say, and then _I’ll_ address the meeting +through an interpreter. I’ve had one or two experiences of this sort +before--and I’m still here to tell the tale! Let’s see what Armourer +thinks about it.” + +Trevor told him the news--and his face fell. + +“Poor old Michael! Now isn’t that just the rottenest luck imaginable?” +He stared towards the long hut. “So that’s where he carried out his +devilish experiments, is it? We’ll have to burn that down.” + +Standen coughed. + +“I suggested doing so when it was light. We don’t want to risk any of +those insects getting free.” + +“Of course not; but I shan’t feel at all comfortable until it is +burnt. Thousands of those butterflies, eh? It makes one shudder to +think of it. If we hadn’t tackled the affair as promptly as we did, +heaven alone knows what might have happened.” + +“Hanging’s too good for a chap like Abu-Samar,” put in Trevor. + +Battiscombe screwed up his face. + +“I wouldn’t like to tell you how I feel about it,” he said. “If I +hadn’t had something to keep me from thinking too much, I fancy I +should have gone mad.” + +Standen nodded gravely. + +“You’ve taken your gruelling better than most men, and I admire you +for it. I know the state your nerves are in and the effort you had to +make to persuade yourself to come back here to us instead of going on +after Mrs. Battiscombe. If you’ll listen to the advice of an older +man, and one who has had some experience, you’ll stop fidgeting about +and sit down.” + +The magistrate planted himself on the case next to Trevor. + +“And what’s your next advice, professor?” + +“Finish your meal slowly, take a good strong _tot_, and light your +pipe.--How soon have we to start?” + +“I should like to get away at once, but we’ve ample time if we push +off in half an hour. As far as I can make out, nothing useful can be +accomplished before midnight. Somebody’s got to stop here and look +after those chattering niggers. Who’s it going to be?” + +Standen looked at the planter. + +“Under any other circumstances, I should have cheerfully volunteered; +but my experience as a leader of men is insignificant and there may be +more of the insects at the temple.” + +“I see,” said Trevor. “You mean that the antidote may be required +again.” + +“Precisely. On the other hand, of course, there’s Armourer and our +wounded men to be considered. I could make them both comfortable +before I started and leave instructions with my daughter how to act if +either took a serious turn for the worse.” + +“I’ll stop,” declared Trevor promptly. “How long are you likely to be +away.” + +Battiscombe frowned. + +“We’ll be back before dawn, in any case,” he decided. + +“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Trevor,” said the professor. + +The other laughed. + +“I’m not grumbling. I’ve had more than my share of the excitement, +and--well, there’s nothing else for it, is there? We can manage all +right here--and it’s more than likely you’ll be wanted up there. Take +Dara with you. She’s the real goddess of the Crimson Butterfly and you +can’t very well deprive these people of one of them without returning +them the other.” + +Battiscombe started. + +“By Jove, Trevor!” he ejaculated; “that’s the ticket! I didn’t know +that she was the important personage.” + +He rubbed his hands together. + +“If some kind person’ll oblige me with that _tot_, we’ll get busy.” He +looked from one to the other. “If any harm’s come to Vera,” he added +fiercely, “I’m not altogether certain that Mr. Abu-Samar will come +back with us _alive_.” + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIII. + A Move in the Right Direction + +James Battiscombe’s long experience as a magistrate in remote +districts had taught him the value of stage-management where native +religions were concerned. + +Consequently, when he and the professor, with their handful of men, +joined the tribesmen who squatted outside the breastwork, he led Dara +forward, holding a lamp so that its light fell upon her face and +shoulders and upon the sacred emblem that glittered at her throat. + +The natives, who had risen at their approach, stared in hushed +amazement at her coming and presently prostrated themselves before +her. + +She folded her arms and addressed them in their own tongue, and the +fervour of their mingled responses inspired the magistrate with hope. + +The girl turned to him. + +“I have told them,” she said in Malay, “that I was spirited away from +them by Abu-Samar; that he is a bad man and that, before the sun rises +again in the east, he must die.” + +Battiscombe nodded. + +“And the men said,” pursued Dara, “that my words were wise ones and +that they would take me back to my temple and tell the others what I +have already told them.” + +“All that is good,” returned Battiscombe, “except that this man Samar +should die before dawn. Very surely he will die, but there are wise +men at the coast who would speak with him first. Listen, Dara: When +the white lady has been given over to me and we have placed you again +in the temple in the hill, then shall the chieftains deliver Abu-Samar +into my hands.” + +She did not answer. + +“You hear me, Dara?” + +“I hear you, great _Tuan_, and I understand.” + +They moved forward presently, under a violet dome where stars hung +like jewelled ornaments amid wind-blown clouds. Battiscombe and the +professor walked in front, with the native girl between them; a few +paces behind them came the leader of the tribesmen--a man of enormous +height, clad in a leopard skin, a blow-pipe, with a spearhead +attached, slung across his shoulders. He was followed by Kuraman and +six soldiers, who marched in double file, while the remaining natives +fell in irregularly at the rear. + +The first half-mile was rough going, and then, on the far side of a +gorge, they wheeled on to a recognised track, which, in spite of +fragments of stone occurring at frequent intervals, offered them +better foothold. + +Wild and mountainous country this, broken by rare strips of sparse +vegetation and occasional clumps of stunted trees. + +Banks of heavy clouds hung on the horizon, and at a little after +eleven the moon came up. + +“Blowing up for rain,” declared Standen suddenly. + +“Yes,” said Battiscombe. “Vance’ll be glad. He wants it for his young +rubber.” + +They relapsed into silence again. + +They climbed a stiff hill and began descending into a valley where a +keen wind met them, carrying to their cheeks the spray from an +adjacent cataract. + +The native who spoke Malay caught them up. + +“We will stop at the foot of the slope, _Tuan_. On the other side of +the hill is the road by which our people must pass on their way to the +temple.” + +“_Baik_,” replied Battiscombe shortly, and pressed onward. + +They called a halt in the hollow and the professor selected a boulder +upon which he promptly sat. + +“This is all very well for you younger fellows,” he laughed, “but it +soon begins to tell upon a man of my age.” + +Dara reclined at his feet, while the magistrate strolled off to +interview his guide. + +“O _Tuan_,” said the brown girl to Standen, “you are the man with the +beard who is wiser than all other white men.” + +The professor, who understood enough Malay to follow her meaning, +bestowed upon her the look a father might give to a very young child. + +“I would hardly like to say that,” he murmured in his own tongue, and +then, so that she could understand him: “Who told you this, Dara?” + +“The _Tuan-Hakim_ who is sick.” + +“Armourer, eh? Well, that was really uncommonly nice of him!” + +She surveyed him through half-closed eyes. + +“The _Tuan-Hakim_ made me a promise; he said that, when the time had +arrived, you and he would explain to the priests and the headman how +it was that Abu had taken me away, and that you would kill this Abu, +so that the prophecy might be fulfilled.” + +Standen was puzzled. + +“What prophecy, Dara?” + +“That he who touches the goddess of the Crimson Butterfly--dies. +Otherwise,” she added, “men will say that I went with him willingly, +and will believe that I am a goddess no longer.” + +The professor beckoned to Battiscombe, who was already on his way back +to them. + +“I say, Battiscombe! This girl has taken advantage of your absence to +try and drive a hard bargain with me. As far as I can gather, she +wants me to agree to have Samar killed and handed over to the natives +to prove that the penalty for embracing this dusky goddess is death.” + +The magistrate turned to Dara. + +“We are moving on in but a little while,” he told her, “and there is +no time to discuss this thing. But, when the white _mem_ has been +restored to me, I shall see that these people believe and take you +back again.” + +She observed him doubtfully. + +“If Abu does not die,” she declared, “very surely they will kill me +after you have gone.” + +Battiscombe did not answer. + +“Some of their fellows have gone ahead to explain the position to any +of their friends they may encounter in the road,” he remarked to +Standen. “If they’re not back in a quarter of an hour, I’m starting +without them. My interpreter thought it best to get a decent number of +’em on our side, in case our mission got misunderstood and we were +attacked. On the whole I fancy he’s right.” + +“It appears very sound to me,” said the other. + +“We want a good backing,” continued the magistrate. “We’re not going +to put up much of a show, if it comes to fighting, with seven men and +a bunch of others who won’t know quite on whose side they are. They +tell me the far side of the ridge is just teeming with the +black-skinned blighters. Wouldn’t some of our padres at home give +their cassocks and waistcoat buttons for a congregation like this?” + +“By Gad, they would!” chuckled the professor. + +“And think of the collection!” + +Standen blew his nose vigorously. + +“I suppose they have one?” + +“You bet they do. Witch-doctors, _juju_-merchants and high-priests of +native cults don’t just hang around producing mysteries for nothing.” + +“What form do you suppose it takes. I mean they wouldn’t bring money.” + +“No,” said Battiscombe, “they probably trot along a bunch of bananas, +some nuts, or a coconut or two--and the priests await an opportunity +and dispose of it in bulk to the first merchant that crosses the +interior. There’s usually a commercial side to all these things. +Nobody grumbles as long as there’s a good show. Your native likes his +show. That’s why Dara’s position presents complications. We’ve got to +convince the priests--or whatever they style themselves--that she’s +the genuine article--and we’ve to convince them in such manner as not +to arouse too many suspicions in the native mind. Their principal +creed is that the butterflies protect their goddess and that no man +who tampers with her survives the experiment. We can’t produce a +butterfly and make it sting Abu-Samar, and we haven’t time to find and +dispose of him and tattoo on him a fair imitation of the mark the +Butterfly makes when it does sting. If we’re driven to extreme +measures, we may have to pick the beggar off with a rifle-bullet, just +to show ’em that the man who abducted Dara did die anyway.” + +“It wouldn’t be sufficient, I suppose,” asked Standen, “to assure them +that Abu-Samar will die in any case?” + +Battiscombe produced a pouch and began filling his pipe. + +“I’m afraid not. If I could only manage to get away with that, I’d +consider I’d fulfilled my duty to the letter.--Hullo! here are some of +our men back. We’ll fall the fellows in and get on.” + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIV. + The Temple of the Crimson Butterfly + +The summit of the next hill revealed to them a vast circular +amphitheatre from the centre of which a path led up to the spot where, +at the top of a huge mound, an enormous brazier was burning. Behind +the brazier they could just make out the entrance to what appeared to +be a cave and, standing before it, three figures. + +Packed closely into this hollow, partly in the moonlight and partly in +the shadow of the cliffs, was a multitude of crouching forms. + +Battiscombe caught the professor’s arm. + +“Lord!” he exclaimed, “what a mob! Did you ever see anything like it?” + +“No,” said Standen, “never in my life. It puzzles me that so barren a +country-side should be able to produce so many.” + +The magistrate unhitched a pair of binoculars and focussed them on the +temple. + +“Well?” asked his companion after a long pause. + +“Vera’s there,” said Battiscombe huskily, “and Samar. There’s a black +chap with them with nothing much on but paint.” + +Their guide halted before them. + +“It is time, O _Tuan_,” he said. + +Battiscombe gritted his teeth. + +“The crucial moment has arrived, Standen. What d’you think about it?” + +The professor smiled. + +“I’m profoundly interested,” he confessed. + +They began the descent. + +They came presently, by way of a winding path, to a flight of steps +roughly hewn from the bare rock, and ten minutes later they embarked +upon the narrow passage-way that stretched between the two sections of +worshippers at the shrine of the Crimson Butterfly. + +The professor, walking a couple of paces behind Battiscombe, stared +blandly at an ocean of dark heads and a veritable forest of spears +that extended, seemingly, from either side of them to infinity. + +Battiscombe, pipe in mouth, strode along with his head held high and +one hand resting lightly in his jacket-pocket. He appeared +delightfully at his ease, but the hidden hand was closed over a +pistol-butt and his eye was ever alert for a hostile sign in his +immediate neighbourhood. + +It was an eerie moment. + +The slightest sign of nervousness, of hesitation, would have spelt +inevitable disaster. This puny band that marched to the rescue of Vera +Battiscombe would have been overwhelmed and crushed out of existence +by sheer weight of numbers. + +Battiscombe was within twenty yards of the shrine itself when the +native who spoke Malay appeared at his side and signed to him to stop. + +Just above them a man was speaking in the queer, discordant dialect +these people employed. The magistrate could not hope to follow the +text, but kept his eyes on the speaker, endeavouring to gather from +his actions and change of expression the gist of what he was saying. + +“It is the high-priest,” whispered his guide. + +Battiscombe nodded. + +“He says that this is the night of all nights, that the prophecy has +been fulfilled and there is once more a white goddess at the shrine of +the Butterfly.” + +“Oh, he does, does he?” muttered the magistrate between his teeth, and +looked round for Dara. But the black girl was nowhere to be seen. + +The priest--a fantastic figure in crimson loincloth and headpiece like +a skull-cap with wings, his body smeared with broad lines of red and +yellow paint--seized the white girl by a wrist and led her forward. + +Battiscombe, an ugly light in his eyes, the veins standing out on his +temples, made an effort to choke down his emotion. He saw his wife +mauled by this bedaubed savage--a trembling, terrified Vera, clothed +in a black _sarong_ spotted with gold, and with barbaric ornaments +hanging at her wrists. + +The gathering was on its knees now and the incantation they repeated +rumbled in that vast hollow like thunder. + +The murmuring ceased and, in the grim silence that followed, +Battiscombe caught the guide’s eye. + +“Ask him where the token is--the ornament that the goddess should be +wearing.” + +The man raised his arm and shouted. + +The priest was about to respond when Abu-Samar sprang in front of him +and levelled an accusing finger at Battiscombe. + +“It is he who has stolen the ornament,” he screamed. “The white man +who has come to rob the shrine of its goddess has taken the Crimson +Butterfly.” + +A shrieking tumult rose to the heavens, there was an ominous clash of +weapons, and two walls of gesticulating humanity began to close in on +them. + +“This is beginning to look awkward,” whispered the professor in the +magistrate’s ear. “Can’t our black friend do something?” + +“I’m pumping some good sound logic into him now,” the other jerked +back over his shoulder. “Tell my fellows to keep their heads and not +attempt to use their rifles until I give the order.” + +He planted the flat of his hand on a black chest that had come too +close to be pleasant, and deliberately pushed it back. + +“Tell them,” he shouted to the guide, “that Abu-Samar is a liar and +the son of liars; that he came by stealth and stole Dara--the +goddess--from the shrine; that the white woman they see up there is no +goddess, but my wife, whom he took away from my house when she was +ill. Tell them that I have come from the great king who dwells on the +other side of the black waters and that there are many men waiting at +but a little distance. Tell them that I come as a friend, to find my +wife, whom Samar has taken, and go away with her in peace; that the +British _Raj_ has sent me to give them back Dara and take Abu-Samar +down to the sea-shore in chains, that the prophecy may be fulfilled +and the defiler of the sanctuary of the Crimson Butterfly slain. Tell +them that if they receive me in peace--all is well; and if they greet +me with spears, the hillsides will flash with fire and there will be +many dead in the valleys.” + +The man in the leopard skin waved his blow-pipe above his head and +presently the shouting died down. + +He spoke for fully twenty minutes by the professor’s watch, an +eloquent, impassioned speech, and Standen mentally thanked his stars +that they had stumbled upon a local orator for their advocate. + +The speaker dropped his arms to his sides and there was a brief space +of silence. Then, like a great tidal wave, the tumult burst upon them +again. It was awe-inspiring, deafening, colossal; but Battiscombe, who +could detect the difference between unfriendly native noises and the +other kind, appeared satisfied. + +He turned to Standen. + +“Where’s that damn’ girl?” he demanded. “If we could only show her to +’em now, we’d beat that brute Samar all hands down.” + +The professor raised a warning finger. + +The high-priest was speaking again. + +The guide leaned across. + +“I told you so,” said Battiscombe again. “He’s asking for Dara. If she +doesn’t show up inside a couple of minutes--the game’s up.” + +He began shouldering his way towards the shrine with the friendly +native at his heels. + +“Follow me,” he shouted back. “If the worst comes to the worst, we’ll +make sure of the high ground. We may find some sort of sanctuary up +there.” + +“The horns of the altar!” murmured Standen, as he caught him up. + +A few paces from the high-priest himself, Battiscombe bowed politely. + +“O wise one!” he began in Malay, assuming him to be a man of superior +education, “Dara--the goddess of the Butterfly--is here.” + +The priest regarded him suspiciously. + +“You have said that Abu-Samar is a liar,” he reminded the Englishman, +“also the son of liars. Abu-Samar, on the other hand, insists that it +is you who lie and that it is you who have stolen the sacred pendant +which should adorn the neck of our goddess. Restore to us Dara--and +the pendant, and all will be well. Otherwise----” + +Abu-Samar, still in the European garb he affected, drew himself erect. + +“Battiscombe,” he called insolently, “you are a brave man and an +optimist, but Abu-Samar holds your fate in the hollow of his hand. +Yes, I stole your wife from Jelandang. You can shout it to these +people again and again, but they will not believe you. They have +waited for a white goddess all these years and, now that I have +brought her to them, do you imagine they will let you take her away? +In a moment I shall move one finger and you and your little party will +be blotted out. I am lending your wife to these people. They shall +keep her until I am ready to spirit her away, as I took Dara the brown +girl.” He pointed at Battiscombe’s band contemptuously. “It will take +more than that to arrest Abu-Samar. Seven little soldiers in round +hats! It is an insult--the second time you have insulted me, +Battiscombe!” + +The magistrate held his head on one side. + +“I’m afraid I shall have to inflict a third insult on you, Abu-Samar, +for to-night I take you back with me--to be hanged like the dirty +cut-throat you are!” + +Samar drew in a deep breath and his eyes flashed. + +“Dara!” he shouted to the crowd. “Where is she? They, who say they +have brought her back, cannot find her. It is a lie, a trick… +_Kill!_” + +And then, as Battiscombe’s automatic leaped from his pocket, as grim +little men gripped their rifles and a shrieking mass hesitated before +sweeping down on them--a dark figure slipped from behind a rock and, +drawing a long knife from her hair, buried it to the hilt in Samar’s +back. + +Abu-Samar dropped forward on to his knees and Dara waved the dripping +blade aloft. + +“Greetings, my people!” she cried, “Behold! here am I! Dara! I have +come back to you. My white friends have brought me here--and he who +stole me from you is dead!” + +They grovelled before her now, moaning, chanting, beating their heads +upon the ground, and Battiscombe, darting forward, snatched Vera up in +his arms. + +“We have won, _Tuan_,” said Kuraman at the professor’s side. “The +_Tuan-Hakim_ has won--and the _mem_ is safe again. He is a wonderful +man!” + +Standen smiled. + +“Kuraman,” replied the professor, “you are all wonderful men--all of +you; do you understand?” + +And he lit a cigarette. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXV. + The Fruits of Victory + +As the dawn was coming up, Trevor, red-eyed and weary, saw them +straggling back among the rocks. + +Two men carried a hammock on a _pikul_, the professor and Battiscombe +walked leisurely, laughing over something one of them had just said, +and everybody was smoking. + +“Hullo!” he greeted them; “what luck?” + +Battiscombe threw his arms in the air. + +“The very best. We’ve brought her back, unharmed.” + +The planter vaulted over the breastwork and ran to meet them. + +“Splendid! How did you manage it?” + +The professor laughed. + +“We’ll tell you all about it as soon as we’ve found somewhere +comfortable to sit and something warm to drink. We’ve had a most +successful and memorable outing; but it was touch-and-go at one time, +wasn’t it, Battiscombe?” + +The magistrate grinned. + +“Don’t I know it! Up to a point we were the two most unpopular people +in creation--and give me popularity every time! You’ve read of minutes +that seem like years, Trevor?--well, we had about fifteen of those, +with umpteen black giants breathing hate down the backs of our shirts! +Lord! professor, didn’t they stink!” + +“They did,” agreed Standen, “horribly!” + +“And Abu-Samar?” + +Battiscombe took Trevor’s arm. + +“He’s dead; Dara killed him.” + +“Dara?” + +“Yes, stabbed him in the back at a very critical moment. We’d talked +ourselves hoarse and it wanted something very decisive to convince ’em +of our _bona-fides_. Dara supplied it!” + +The last trace of anxiety left the planter’s face. + +“Well, that’s about the end of our job, isn’t it? We can burn his +jolly old breeding-house at our leisure, and march comfortably back to +hear the plaudits of the multitude!” + +They all laughed. + +“How’s Armourer?” asked the professor, as they approached the tent. + +“Fine, apparently. The last time I saw Miss Standen she told me he had +recognised her and spoken quite sensibly.” + +The professor rubbed his hands together. + +“That’s what comes of having a fine constitution!” + +“And a fine antidote,” added Battiscombe. + +“And a fine nurse,” said Trevor. “I’ve pitched the other tent over +there. I thought you’d want somewhere to put Mrs. Battiscombe.” + +Standen stopped outside Armourer’s tent. + +“I could sleep the round of the clock!” he declared. + +Battiscombe placed his hands on his hips. + +“I can give you four hours. I’m breaking camp at nine and putting as +many miles as I can between us and any possible after-thoughts on the +part of our coloured friends.” + +“I don’t blame you,” said the other, and went in to look at his +patient. + +By nine o’clock all that was left of the long hut and its loathsome +contents was a heap of smouldering ruins. + +It amused Standen to compare the atmosphere of the return march to the +outward journey of the expedition. + +The men, the bearers, the leaders themselves, laughed and chattered as +the long line wound its way westward. The fact that their mission was +accomplished and that Abu-Samar was dead had taken a weight from every +mind, from the highest to the lowest. He wondered what would have +happened if they had failed, if the breeding-house had broadcasted its +thousands, if Samar had been free to pursue his campaign of hate! + +“What’s up, professor?” laughed Trevor. “You look as if you’d +something on your mind.” + +“I had,” confessed the older man; “but, thank heaven, it isn’t there +now!” + +On the second day Vera was able to ride. + +“Jim,” she asked suddenly, addressing the man who walked by her side, +“are you really glad to have me back?” + +Battiscombe smiled up at her. + +“Rather!” he said. “When I heard that he’d taken you, I nearly went +off my rocker.” + +“But I’ve been such a beast to you. It’s no earthly use your shaking +your head. I’ve treated you frightfully badly.” She rested a hand on +his shoulder. “But I didn’t know you, Jim. I didn’t know you could do +things like that. I was so frightened before you came. I was more +frightened still--for your sake--when you walked right through that +ghastly crowd. I thought they’d kill you.” + +“So did I,” replied her husband cheerfully. + +“But you weren’t afraid.” + +“Wasn’t I, though! I was in a deuce of a panic, if you only knew.” + +“I don’t believe it,” she declared. “I absolutely refuse to believe +any such nonsense. You were an absolute hero--a great, fat, dear old +hero--and I don’t deserve you a bit.--But honestly, dear, I mean to +stick to you like anything after this.” + +“You’ve jolly well got to,” said Battiscombe. “You don’t suppose I +indulge in jaunts of this sort just for the fun of the thing. In +future I’m ruling my household with an iron hand.--By the way, I’m +sending in my resignation as soon as we get back.” + +Vera gasped. + +“You’re not throwing up your career because of me?” + +“Not altogether. You see, Vera, the old man pegged out on the day I +left Rembakut. I got the news when Armourer’s man caught me up.” + +“Jim!” + +“Yes,” he continued slowly, “I haven’t told a soul about it yet; I was +saving it up for you. It’ll mean a lot to us. You’ll be able to have +some decent frocks now and the only occupation I shall want is +something to help me keep my fat down!--I’m sorry I wasn’t home when +it happened, though.” + +It was a week before Armourer talked sensibly again. He opened his +eyes wearily and realised that somebody was bending over him. It was +evening and the air was pleasantly cool. + +He reached out with his hand and touched a white arm. + +“Is that you, Joyce?” he asked, in so natural a tone that it startled +her. + +She had somehow pictured their first intimate conversation as +something entirely different from this. + +“Yes, Michael,” she said, with just a catch in her voice, “I’ve +brought Mickie to see you.” + +He drew her hand towards him and pressed his lips to it. + + [The End] + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + +Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g. butterfly-net/butterfly net, +landmarks/land-marks, etc.) have been preserved. + +Note: some of the fixes list below are due to an apparent publishing +error wherein some of the leftmost characters of a few lines didn’t +get printed. + +Alterations to the text: + +Punctuation: fix some quotation mark pairings/nestings and a few +missing periods. + +[Chapter V] + +Change “there was a gap _bewteen_ her frock and her neck” to +_between_. + +[Chapter VI] + +“into the pocket of the pyjama _acket_ she wore” to _jacket_. + +[Chapter XV] + +“He looked back over his _sholulder_” to _shoulder_. + +[Chapter XVI] + +“peering fearfully _nto_ the darkness” to _into_. + +[Chapter XX] + +“take special _recautions_ to protect themselves against” to +_precautions_. + +[Chapter XXI] + +“After Dick and the others. it was simply wonderful to think” change +the period to a comma. + +“bring me one of those _ters_ … from which he _rites_ … your +troubles _ll_ be at an end” to _letters_, _writes_, and _will_, +respectively. + +[Chapter XXIII] + +“show what state of _min_ she was in” to _mind_. + +[Chapter XXVI] + +“from a box and fastened it round her _neek_” to _neck_. + +[Chapter XXVII] + +“with three or four _pople_ making tracks” to _people_. + +“_Amourer_ shook his head” to _Armourer_. + +[Chapter XXIX] + +“for _here_ on the stool was irrefutable evidence” to _there_. + +[Chapter XXX] + +“He _insed_ it and threw the drops to the floor” to _rinsed_. + +[Chapter XXXII] + +“_Standon_ looked at the planter” to _Standen_. + + [End of text] + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78222 *** diff --git a/78222-h/78222-h.htm b/78222-h/78222-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cfb5bdd --- /dev/null +++ b/78222-h/78222-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15962 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The crimson butterfly | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +/* Headers and Divisions */ + h1, h2, h3, h4 {margin:4em 0em 1em 0em; page-break-before:always; text-align:center;} + +/* General */ + + body {margin:0% 5% 0% 5%;} + + .nobreak {margin:2em auto 1em auto; page-break-before:avoid;} + + p {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:justify; text-indent:1em;} + .center {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} + .noindent {text-indent:0em;} + + .toc_l {font-variant:small-caps; margin:0em 0em 0em 2em; text-indent:-2em;} + + .rt1 {margin:0em 1em 0em 0em; text-align:right; text-indent:0em;} + + .chap_sub {font-variant:small-caps; font-size:80%;} + .sc {font-variant:small-caps;} + +/* special formatting */ + + blockquote {margin:1em 2em 1em 2em;} + + .mt1 {margin-top:1em;} + .mt4 {margin-top:4em;} + +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78222 ***</div> + +<h1> +THE CRIMSON<br> +BUTTERFLY +</h1> + +<p class="center"> +<i>By</i> EDMUND SNELL +</p> + +<p class="center mt4"> +T. FISHER UNWIN LTD<br> +LONDON: ADELPHI TERRACE +</p> + + +<h2> +[COPYRIGHT] +</h2> + +<p class="center"> +<i>First published</i> 1924.<br> +<i>Second Impression</i> (<i>Popular Edition</i>) 1926 +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +(<i>All rights reserved</i>) +</p> + + +<h2> +CONTENTS +</h2> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch01">I. THE COMING OF ABU-SAMAR</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch02">II. THE CRIMSON BUTTERFLY</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch03">III. ARMOURER ENTERTAINS</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch04">IV. A DANCE AT REMBAKUT</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch05">V. BATTISCOMBE ASSERTS HIMSELF</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch06">VI. THE MAGIC OF ABU-SAMAR</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch07">VII. A STRANGE INSECT</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch08">VIII. THE PROFESSOR TURNS NATURALIST</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch09">IX. THE TRAGEDY AT BUKIT-SERANG</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch10">X. THE MYSTERY DEEPENS</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch11">XI. JOYCE DISPLAYS CURIOSITY</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch12">XII. COLLEAGUES CONFER</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch13">XIII. A NOCTURNAL EXPEDITION</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch14">XIV. AT VANCE’S PLACE</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch15">XV. A SECOND VICTIM</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch16">XVI. THE BUTTERFLY RETURNS</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch17">XVII. A STRANGE PHENOMENON</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch18">XVIII. THE PROFESSOR CHANGES HIS VIEWS</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch19">XIX. AN IMPORTANT CAPTURE</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch20">XX. JOYCE GOES TO JESSELTON</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch21">XXI. THE SIREN SPEAKS</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch22">XXII. DISAPPEARANCE OF MRS. BATTISCOMBE</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch23">XXIII. THE HUT IN THE TREES</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch24">XXIV. THE GODDESS OF THE BUTTERFLY</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch25">XXV. OUTNUMBERED</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch26">XXVI. DARA DECIDES</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch27">XXVII. ARMOURER PLANS AN ADVANCE</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch28">XXVIII. THE ANTIDOTE</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch29">XXIX. IN THE CLUTCHES OF ABU-SAMAR</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch30">XXX. ABU EXPLAINS</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch31">XXXI. TRAPPED IN THE BREEDING-HOUSE</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch32">XXXII. BATTISCOMBE BRINGS NEWS</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch33">XXXIII. A MOVE IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch34">XXXIV. THE TEMPLE OF THE CRIMSON BUTTERFLY</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch35">XXXV. THE FRUITS OF VICTORY</a> +</p> + + +<h2> +THE CRIMSON BUTTERFLY +</h2> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="ch01"> +CHAPTER I.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Coming of Abu-Samar</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">James Battiscombe</span>—district officer at Rembakut—emerged from the +little courthouse that formed the ground floor of his bungalow, +directed his monocle upon a group of natives that still lingered in +the clearing, and, turning abruptly on his heel, negotiated the flight +of steps that led to the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +He sat down somewhat heavily and touched the bell. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring me a drink—a long drink,” he said to the <i>boy</i> who appeared in +response to his summons. +</p> + +<p> +At the sound of his voice Vera Battiscombe raised her head from the +cushion upon which it had reposed. +</p> + +<p> +“That you, Jim?” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate stretched himself and crossed the floor. He selected a +portion of the wooden rail in the immediate vicinity of his wife’s +chair and leaned his broad back against it. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +She raised her finely marked brows. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” she echoed. “Had a busy morning?” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe groaned. +</p> + +<p> +“A confounded, interminable land dispute. The worst of native +witnesses is that they go such a devil of a long way round, and if you +attempt to interrupt ’em they never come to the point at all. Lord! +isn’t it hot!” +</p> + +<p> +He mopped a large red face with a coloured handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +Vera had never been fearfully in love with James Battiscombe, but she +simulated an intense interest in his affairs to suit her own ends. Her +husband, on the contrary, still basked in the sunshine of fatuous +contentment at having by some miraculous means persuaded so beautiful +a creature to consent to share his existence. A devoted, uncomplaining +mountain of flesh, normally content with the smallest of favours, he +vaguely wondered why she stopped with him out there at all. These +Borneo wilds, he was wont to reason, were good enough in their way +where mere man was concerned, but for a woman—cultured and used to a +lot of amusement, well, hang it all——! He was oblivious of his +wife’s shortcomings to such an extent that his friends were constantly +divided between an anxious desire to kick him and an equally anxious +desire not to hurt his feelings—and consequently did nothing. +</p> + +<p> +Whenever a particularly persistent rumour floated to Battiscombe’s +ears he would shrug his shoulders and explain with wide-open eyes that +anyway she was damn’ good to him, and, if he wasn’t complaining, what +the devil had it got to do with anybody else? +</p> + +<p> +“And his excellency the <i>Tuan-Hakim</i> gave his learned decision, I +suppose, and everybody went off very pleased with themselves?” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Not the least bit like it. His excellency postponed the hearing of +the case until to-morrow, thereby neglecting his duty in the interests +of thirst.” +</p> + +<p> +He took the glass from the <i>boy</i> and winked broadly across it at his +wife. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, here’s all the best! Are not the waters of Abana and +what’s-his-name greater than all the rivers of Israel, what?—Jove, I +wanted that!—Then, old thing, to cap it all, I was forced into an +unseemly dispute with a most extraordinary creature.” He drew a +crumpled visiting card from his pocket and read: “ ‘Dr. Abu-Samar’—and +a whole string of letters that I suppose stand for something or +other.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Battiscombe squirmed herself into a sitting position and rested +her chin on her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Abu-Samar!” +</p> + +<p> +Her husband nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“He pushed in just after I’d instructed Corporal Kuraman to clear the +court, and insisted on seeing me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was he like?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, a tall thin chap with a blue serge suit and a red <i>fez</i>, a brown +face and an enormous pair of tortoise-shell spectacles. Apart from all +this, he had an extremely unpleasant way of looking at one. Just a +moment. I’ll ring the bell.” +</p> + +<p> +Vera raised a hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Not another one, dear! You know you don’t want it.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe grinned. +</p> + +<p> +“I know I do!” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Not before lunch.” +</p> + +<p> +He shrugged his shoulders and deposited the empty tumbler on a small +bamboo table. +</p> + +<p> +“Right-oh, little woman; suppose you know best. Anyhow, about this +Abu-Samar feller; he told me that he was an expert in tropical +diseases and intended offering his services to the neighbouring +planters as such. I suggested that the planting syndicates were +already fully equipped with medicoes and that the Chartered Company +had a few others of its own knocking around looking after the general +health of the community—when they weren’t playing golf.” +</p> + +<p> +“And——?” +</p> + +<p> +“And, oh, he didn’t seem to think any of ’em counted for very much. +However, that’s his affair. He pitched the usual yarn of being the son +of a chief somewhere way-back, gave me to understand that he had pots +of money and had returned to his own country to reform the notions of +his fellow blacks as to the treatment of sickness. He indulged in a +long rigmarole about removing the film from their eyes and uplifting +the coloured inhabitants of Borneo until they were fit to rub +shoulders with the more cultured European, and somewhere about that +point I began to smell a rat. I was confoundedly hot and thirsty and I +just itched to boot the fellow into the clearing, when he capped +everything with a cool request that I should put him up for membership +of the club!” +</p> + +<p> +A ripple of laughter escaped Mrs. Battiscombe. +</p> + +<p> +“And then you <i>booted</i> him!” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate set his jaw grimly. +</p> + +<p> +“I booted him! I called upon the corporal first, but he didn’t seem +especially anxious—so I carried out the operation myself. He sat down +on the grass outside and became abusive and threatening. Began a long +preamble commencing with the statement that knowledge was power and +concluding with a veiled threat to employ his marvellous knowledge in +wiping out the entire white population of the island. I fancy he was +annoyed really because I tore his trousers.” +</p> + +<p> +Vera slipped from her chair and joined him at the rail. +</p> + +<p> +She leaned over, peering in all directions, but could discover nothing +more unusual than a belt of mature cocopalms and a sky of infinite +azure. +</p> + +<p> +“What happened to him?” she demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“He cleared out in the end, with a little boy in white holding an +elaborate yellow umbrella over him and one hand wandering all round +his neck to see if his collar was still there. I threatened to arrest +him, and he ultimately realised that I meant it and was not at all +impressed with either his letters or his wardrobe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite an exciting morning!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, quite! My blood was up—and I let him have it hot.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Battiscombe smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“My cave-man!” she murmured, and patted his sleeve with a +well-simulated affection that prompted the magistrate to squeeze her +arm to indicate that in him also the fires of romance were not +entirely burnt out. +</p> + +<p> +He produced a cigarette and tapped it thoughtfully on his thumb-nail. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m running into Jesselton this afternoon,” he remarked suddenly. +“Coming?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +He lit up and tossed the match into the clearing. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! why not?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Battiscombe coloured slightly. +</p> + +<p> +“Because, my dear man, it happens to be Thursday, and you know I +promised to ride over to Dick Moberly’s to inspect the new clubhouse +he’s erected for his assistants. You’ve a terrible memory, Jim.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must have, for to tell you the honest truth I can’t recall having +ever heard that Moberly had built a clubhouse for his men or that he +wanted you to inspect it.” A shadow crossed his face. “I say, Vera, +aren’t you seeing rather a lot of Dick Moberly?” +</p> + +<p> +“Jim!” +</p> + +<p> +It was the first sign the proverbial worm had ever shown of turning, +and—feeble as the effort was—it startled her. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” pursued the magistrate with dogged persistence, passing a +nervous finger round the inside of his collar, “you are, aren’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +She came right up to him and, resting her hands lightly on his tunic, +gazed unflinchingly into his face. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not suggesting that there’s anything—<i>wrong</i> between Dick and +me?” +</p> + +<p> +A light flashed suddenly in his eyes and died down as quickly as it +had come. +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens, no! Only—well, people will keep talking. I suppose +it’s because they’ve nothing else to do. If I’d listened to a tithe of +the yarns that are going around about you, I’d have booked your +passage home long ago. Perhaps it’s a good thing I don’t jump at +conclusions.” +</p> + +<p> +Vera Battiscombe suppressed a smile. She could not imagine her husband +jumping at anything. +</p> + +<p> +She stared hard at a cluster of scraggy fowls picking for sustenance +in a scattered heap of straw. +</p> + +<p> +“And what are they saying about us?” she demanded. +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate cleared his throat. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the usual things. Look here, Vera, don’t think I’m complaining, +because I’m not; but try and vary things a bit; you know what I mean. +People notice you; they can’t help it, because you’re so confoundedly +good-looking. I didn’t tell you at the time—I didn’t think it was +worth repeating—but over a week ago I overheard a scrap of +conversation in Sandakan—and knocked a man down for his share in it.” +</p> + +<p> +Vera’s head came sharply round, and if he had looked he would have +seen that she was paler than usual. +</p> + +<p> +“Well? What was it?” +</p> + +<p> +“That you deliberately pushed in between Mrs. Moberly and Dick—and +that that was why she went home so suddenly.” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes flashed. +</p> + +<p> +“How wicked!” +</p> + +<p> +“Damnable!—Another planter feller picked my man up. He was drunk, but +he knew what he was saying: ‘I’m mighty sorry for you, old man, and if +I were in your place I’d do the same; but if that’s your line of +action you’ve got your work cut out. You’ll have to fight the whole +island!’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“He didn’t say that!” +</p> + +<p> +The D.O. nodded his head slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“He did, old thing. To the best of my belief, those were his exact +words. Well, there you are, dear. I’ve given you the whole grim story +for what it is worth. I suppose the average man would have rowed you +about it; but I hate rows. It’s too hot, for one thing, and for +another, I’m confident in my own mind that you wouldn’t let me down.” +</p> + +<p> +The cook-boy appeared at a doorway. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Makan</i> is served, <i>Tuan</i>,” he announced. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe nodded in his direction to indicate that he had heard. He +turned to find his wife the picture of injured innocence. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought it was only women who talked scandal,” she declared with a +fine air of contempt. +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate did not trouble to defend his sex. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it isn’t, you see, and under the present circumstances it’s up +to us to face facts. Cut down your visits to <i>Bukit-Serang</i> to, say, +once a month, and blow in occasionally upon some of those faded women +who have possibly had a hand in setting these rumours in motion.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled feebly and spread out her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Must I?” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate patted her shoulder affectionately. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems a rational sort of thing to do. Lord, Vera, if we could +afford it, I’d clear right out of here.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Battiscombe started. +</p> + +<p> +“And that wouldn’t be rational at all. Everyone would think we’d made +things too hot for us and were afraid to stick to our guns.” +</p> + +<p> +He held his head on one side. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not so certain about that. It’d show ’em, at least, that you +didn’t care a rap for Moberly and would leave Borneo with me as +readily as you came.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would I?” she ventured. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe slipped his arm round her and piloted her gently towards +the living-room, laughing to himself all the while at what he imagined +to be the finest joke he had heard for many a long day. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch02"> +CHAPTER II.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Crimson Butterfly</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">He</span> looked up at her from the foot of the steps. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, little woman. Give my regards to Moberly. Perhaps it’s just +as well you couldn’t come. The Commissioner sent word this morning +that he wanted to see me, and I expect we shall indulge in a long +pow-wow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be late,” said Mrs. Battiscombe, perhaps just a little anxious +to know how late her husband would be. +</p> + +<p> +When considering a question of time, however distant, the magistrate +instinctively sought enlightenment in the dial of his watch. He did so +now. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m counting on Matthews to fix me up with a trolly. Unless I’m +delayed, it should bring me back by about ten. Cheerio!” +</p> + +<p> +She watched his great form amble across the clearing and disappear +presently where the path wound between the trees. She returned to her +chair and sat for some moments, her hands clasped in front of her, +gazing into space. Presently she arose and went with quick determined +steps to her room. +</p> + +<p> +As she regarded herself in the long mirror of the wardrobe Jim +Battiscombe had taken so much trouble to import for her, she found +time to reflect that, after all, there were consolations even for +having married a fool. She had once calculated on there being other +consolations, but these had been speedily modified by the suddenly +revealed meanness of James Battiscombe senior and his only too evident +intention of living to a ripe old age. +</p> + +<p> +She bit her lip. In spite of the easy way in which he laughed things +off, an inborn instinct told her that doubts were beginning to form in +her husband’s slow-working brain, and these germs, once firmly seated, +had an unpleasant habit of increasing with an alarming rapidity. The +thought made her angry. She had contemplated a pleasant afternoon in +Moberly’s bungalow at Bukit-Serang—and now all those cherished +moments would have to be devoted to a tiresome review of their +respective positions. +</p> + +<p> +A second survey of her own image in the glass gave her food for +further reflection. +</p> + +<p> +Drop Dick Moberly! It wasn’t quite such a stupid suggestion after all. +It would have to come to an end sooner or later, and there were times +when his incessant protestations bored her intensely. Vary things a +bit, Jim had suggested. Well, why not? There were still a score of +loopholes for escape from the monotony at Rembakut. Her husband was +agitated solely on account of her visits to the planter, and her +insatiate desire for admiration and conquest swiftly turned her +thoughts in other directions. After all, there were more attractive +men in Borneo than Dick Moberly! +</p> + +<p> +The picture that her blue eyes were surveying so critically was that +of a slight, slim woman in the early thirties, with all the freshness +of a girl of nineteen, an aureole of light fluffy curls, and pouting +lips that required only the slightest artificial attention to keep +them amazingly red. +</p> + +<p> +Her riding-breeches of white drill added a certain piquancy to her +appearance of which she was not entirely oblivious, and the broad +white solar topee she affected became her wonderfully. +</p> + +<p> +Deliriously attractive, daring to the point of recklessness, such was +she whom the adoring Jim Battiscombe persisted in regarding as his +devoted better-half, whom Cranley—who had a gift for apt +expressions—had christened the <i>vest-pocket adventuress</i> and whom the +Commissioner of Police labelled as a <i>damned dangerous woman</i>. +</p> + +<p> +She rode off presently through the cocopalms and took a path which led +through fields of rectagonal pools where vivid green paddy-shoots +thrust their heads timidly above the surface. Great water-buffaloes, +browsing in the open, raised their broad snouts at her approach; ugly, +formidable creatures with lashing tails and a legendary objection to +the white man because of his fondness for soap! But Mrs. Battiscombe +had passed these particular beasts a score of times and grown to +regard them merely as familiar landmarks on the road to Bukit-Serang. +</p> + +<p> +On the white wooden bridge that spanned the Ayer River she met Dr. +Abu-Samar. +</p> + +<p> +He was standing at the far end of the bridge, a cigarette between his +lips and his tortoiseshell glasses reflecting the rays of the tropical +sun. As she drew closer, she saw that he was taller and more powerful +in build than her husband had made it appear; his fingers were long +and tapering and his complexion was sallow rather than brown. There +was something strangely compelling about the look with which he +greeted her. It was as if his eyes were gifted with extraordinary +magnetic powers. +</p> + +<p> +“Good afternoon, Mrs. Battiscombe,” he said, “I have been waiting for +you.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl reined up her mount and sat looking down at him, an amused +smile at her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Waiting for <i>me</i>,” she echoed pleasantly. “What exactly do you mean +by that?” +</p> + +<p> +A memory flashed upon her of her husband’s treatment of the doctor +that morning and she wondered if the man’s presence there were due to +a desire for revenge. +</p> + +<p> +“You are on your way to see Mr. Moberly of Bukit-Serang,” continued +Samar in the same measured tones. “I am a doctor here, you know, and +Mr. Moberly has an appointment at my house at three. He instructed me +to endeavour to intercept you and escort you there to meet him.” In +some peculiar way he seemed to read the doubts which lay in her mind, +for he added, “If you would rather go on to Mr. Moberly’s bungalow, I +am to tell you that his servant will give you tea and Mr. Moberly will +join you there later.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Battiscombe was gazing down at the muddy waters of the river. She +looked up suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” she returned slowly. “I will come.” +</p> + +<p> +Upon hearing her consent, Dr. Abu-Samar turned abruptly on his heel. +</p> + +<p> +“If you will permit me, I will go on ahead and show you the way.” +</p> + +<p> +She touched her pony’s flank with her heel. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it far?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“About half a mile,” he said over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +The path by which her guide took her was ill-marked, and after the +first two hundred yards or so she was forced to dismount to avoid the +overhanging branches. +</p> + +<p> +They came presently to a small open space, waist high for the most +part with <i>lalang</i>, in which stood a broad, squat house with a +freshly-repaired roof of sago thatch and walls of dried reeds. A +verandah had been added to the original structure and neat wooden +steps, painted white, led up to this. +</p> + +<p> +At the foot of the steps a native girl with sarong of bottle-green, +and long cigarette between her fingers, lounged idly against a post, +favouring the white woman with a look of insolent curiosity mingled +with something Vera Battiscombe did not altogether understand. +</p> + +<p> +Abu-Samar waved an eloquent hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is my humble dwelling, Mrs. Battiscombe. Shall I take your +horse? or would you prefer to tether it yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +He shouted something in a dialect unknown to her and the brown girl, +with a flash of her white teeth, flounced off towards the back of the +house. +</p> + +<p> +Vera tapped her riding-boots with her stock. +</p> + +<p> +“Do I go up here?” she inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“If you please.” +</p> + +<p> +She found a cane chair and took possession of it without invitation. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor offered to relieve her of her hat and whip, but she shook +her head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you. It’s already after three and I don’t suppose Mr. +Moberly will want to stop very long.” +</p> + +<p> +She accepted a cigarette, however, and lit it from the match he held +towards her. +</p> + +<p> +He flicked the match airily into space and strode off to the far end +of the verandah, from which he continued to stare at her until she +began to feel profoundly uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you been here long?” she demanded at length. +</p> + +<p> +“Not long,” returned Samar briefly. +</p> + +<p> +At three-fifteen she grew uneasy. +</p> + +<p> +“You are quite certain Mr. Moberly is coming here this afternoon?” +</p> + +<p> +He did not answer at once, but came slowly towards her, his head +pushed slightly forward, his eyes never leaving her face. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a very beautiful woman, Mrs. Battiscombe,” he said suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +She came quickly to her feet, her face flushed. +</p> + +<p> +“Answer me,” she commanded, stamping her foot. “Is Mr. Moberly coming +here or not?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Not</i>,” confessed Samar with astonishing frankness. “I am afraid that +the whole of my story was nothing less than pure invention, designed +to induce you to do something which you would not otherwise have +consented to do.” +</p> + +<p> +She stood for some moments aghast, trying vainly to collect her +thoughts. Her eyes followed the encircling line of foliage, +endeavouring to discover some gap wide enough for her to ride through +and outstrip Dr. Samar, should he attempt to follow. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” she ejaculated at length—and made for the stairhead. The doctor +barred her path, a thin hand resting on either post. His disarming +smile exposed a perfect row of white teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“It would be impossible for you to get away from here unless I desired +you to,” he said; “but it may ease your mind to learn that I have not +the least intention of harming you or of detaining you longer than is +absolutely necessary for my purpose.” +</p> + +<p> +He smiled again. +</p> + +<p> +“Very naturally you assumed that I wanted to make you suffer for the +insult your husband put upon me this morning. I can assure you such is +not the case. I am a cultured man, Mrs. Battiscombe, not a savage. +Confess, you don’t in the least mind being here.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Battiscombe laughed nervously. +</p> + +<p> +“Not if you play square. I’m in rather a hurry though, really.” +</p> + +<p> +Samar raised his brows mockingly. +</p> + +<p> +“To find Mr. Moberly—or return to your husband, who happens to be in +Jesselton?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you are going to insult me, Dr. Samar——!” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not wish to. I merely desire to show you that I know everything. +I am a strange man, Mrs. Battiscombe, with an extraordinary +history—and extraordinary powers. The people here regard me as a +magician, a miracle worker. They come to me when they are ill, but +they are afraid of me, all the same. Frankly, I like to inspire fear. +My ancestor was Sidi Samar, an Illanun and a pirate in the days when +the English Rajah first came to Sarawak. Driven back into the interior +by superior forces, he became, by reason of the vast wealth he had +accumulated and the terror he inspired, chief of a tribe of warriors +who existed by murder and rapine. A well-kept secret, handed down from +father to son, made me eventually sole possessor of his fortune. My +desire for knowledge was insatiable. I went to England—the home of +the traditional enemy of my tribe—and added to the mysteries of the +East the scientific knowledge of the West——” +</p> + +<p> +“Why England?” interrupted Mrs. Battiscombe. “Why go to our country at +all if you dislike our people?” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Samar screwed up his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“One goes to the bazaar for beautiful fabrics, for jewels, for +wondrous ornaments—not because one has anything in common with those +who sell. From England I went to Germany, Italy, Austria, and even to +America. I have travelled far, you see, always accumulating +knowledge——” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet you are content to return to Borneo and live in a native hut +with a roof of <i>ataps</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +“I have come back to my home and my people,” said Samar quietly, “to +the island the white races have taken from us, and, if they could but +realise it, so great are my powers that it would pay them to treat me +with respect.” +</p> + +<p> +She glanced at her watch and held out her hand to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, good-bye, Dr. Samar. I mustn’t really stop a moment longer. +Your story has been so interesting that I feel almost inclined to +forgive you for having lured me here under false pretences.” +</p> + +<p> +Again that queer light had crept into his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You are going to do more than that, Mrs. Battiscombe,” he assured her +in a voice that had dropped to a whisper. “You are coming here again +and again. At first because I shall call you, and you will be +compelled to come—and later because you will have learnt to prefer my +house to the bungalow of the little planter at Bukit-Serang.” He +caught both her hands and drew her, feebly resisting, to the open +doorway of an inner room. “Come. One look at the magician’s palace and +you will be free to depart.” +</p> + +<p> +They passed through heavy curtains of orange-coloured silk ornamented +with silver beads and, as these swung to behind them, he released her. +She found herself in a comparatively small apartment furnished with a +strange conglomeration of Moorish, Chinese, and Indian furniture, and +hung with bizarre Oriental draperies. A table inlaid with +mother-of-pearl occupied the centre of the floor, and close to the far +wall reposed an elaborate divan. The atmosphere was permeated with a +sticky, resinous odour which she traced to a heavy bronze jar in a +corner, from which issued a faint wreath of blue smoke. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, as she gazed around her in bewilderment, Doctor Samar threw +open the lid of an enormous cedar-wood box and tossed a jumbled heap +of glittering ornaments on to the table. +</p> + +<p> +“A little souvenir of your first visit, Mrs. Battiscombe,” he +suggested. “Choose what you will.” +</p> + +<p> +Victim of a confused host of fears and suspicions, she backed towards +the curtains, her eyes fixed on the glittering pile. +</p> + +<p> +He lifted the table bodily and held it up to her eyes, but she pushed +it away from her. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” she cried hoarsely. “It is quite impossible. You don’t +understand.…” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; then I must choose for you.” +</p> + +<p> +He selected a pendant in the form of a butterfly, magnificently carved +from a red, transparent substance the colour of ruby, with emerald +eyes and swung from a chain of gold filigree. It was as thin as a +wafer, and, almost before she was aware of it, he had clasped it round +her neck. +</p> + +<p> +She stared at him with frightened eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean me to keep this?” +</p> + +<p> +He folded his arms. +</p> + +<p> +“The Crimson Butterfly,” he said softly. “A talisman to which native +superstition has attributed strange powers. It is said that the wearer +has but to express a wish—and it will most surely be accomplished.” +He laughed easily. “I warned you that I was a magician, Mrs. +Battiscombe. Even our friend Mr. Moberly would scarcely be able to +provide you with so wonderful a gift—in return for the many favours +you so graciously bestow on him!” +</p> + +<p> +The events of the afternoon had played the deuce with Vera +Battiscombe’s nerves, and she was on the verge of hysteria. +</p> + +<p> +Her face dropped suddenly into her hands and, with a wild outburst of +sobbing, she staggered through the curtain into the clearer air of the +verandah. +</p> + +<p> +“How dare you!—How dare you insult me like this!—That man is nothing +to me—nothing, I tell you!—I wish he were dead!” +</p> + +<p> +Something made her look up. +</p> + +<p> +Abu-Samar was standing at a little distance from her, and the stairway +to her pony was within easy reach. +</p> + +<p> +“One has to be careful what one wishes,” the doctor reminded her, +“when one happens to be the wearer of the Crimson Butterfly!” +</p> + +<p> +She tore herself from his gaze with an effort, and, running madly down +the steps, untethered her mount with trembling fingers. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later she stumbled upon the white wooden bridge and rode +headlong back to her husband’s bungalow, haunted with the memory of +Abu-Samar’s mocking eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Her servant’s startled gaze directed at her chest drew her attention +to the butterfly pendant that still hung there, glaringly magnificent +against a white background. +</p> + +<p> +She shuddered involuntarily and tucked it out of sight. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch03"> +CHAPTER III.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Armourer Entertains</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">A stretch</span> of powdery sand, bleached white by a relentless Eastern +sun, bordered on three sides by trees through which—to the +eastward—ran a gleaming single track of railway line; a sea of +deepest blue, shimmering in a vast crucible whose rim was the far +horizon, like some strange metallic substance, which bubbled over on +to the sand and on the surface of which a group of tiny islands +clustered together like lumps of jade. +</p> + +<p> +A sun hanging low in the western heavens, a breathless, sweltering +stillness, broken at intervals by the shrill quarrelling of apes in +the branches and the gentle plashing and sucking-back of a timid tide. +</p> + +<p> +There were only two living creatures visible in the whole of this +vivid tropical landscape; an Englishman in white drill who sat, pipe +in mouth, on a grassy mound—and a small furry sloth whose brown eyes +surveyed the biped from above with mischievous interest. +</p> + +<p> +The man on the mound stirred suddenly and stretched himself and the +sloth took instant flight, scurrying for the ample cover lent by the +foliage. +</p> + +<p> +Michael Armourer cocked his head on one side and listened. +</p> + +<p> +A distant rumbling sound, accompanied by a discordant shriek, +announced the approach of the afternoon train. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe’s colleague at Jelandang glanced at his watch. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s late this afternoon,” he said to himself, and tapped out his +pipe on his heel. +</p> + +<p> +He had almost filled it again from a voluminous oilskin pouch when the +catastrophe occurred. +</p> + +<p> +The train—a jolting line of white coaches drawn by an obsolete engine +that puffed and snorted asthmatically—emerged from the trees on the +one side at the same time as a trolly—propelled by a group of +perspiring natives—appeared at the other. The trolly carried two +passengers—an elderly gentleman with a short grey beard, who had a +camera fixed on a tripod before him and was turning a handle +vigorously, and a young girl in white. +</p> + +<p> +Either the engine-driver was short-sighted or his brakes refused to +respond, for before Armourer could reach the spot the natives had +scattered, the man and the girl had fallen off, and the engine was +pushing the trolly before it in the direction of Jesselton. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer tripped up over the tripod, recovered himself, and bent down +over the girl. She sat up suddenly and rubbed a bruised arm. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you’re not hurt?” he inquired with genuine anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +It dawned upon him at that moment that she was unusually good-looking +and that she was laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no. I’m not in the least bit hurt, thanks. Hadn’t you better have +a look at father?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer rose to his full height and peered down into the hollow into +which the only other occupant of the trolly had fallen. +</p> + +<p> +The old gentleman was scrambling to his feet, muttering a string of +harmless expletives in a particularly definite manner, most of which +appeared to be addressed to the train. +</p> + +<p> +“Preposterous, I call it! An expensive instrument and a perfect +panorama ruined all through the confounded idiocy of a native driver! +A man like that ought never to be permitted to control an engine +again!” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer suppressed a sudden desire to laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“As a matter of fact,” he reminded the stranger, “trollies are +theoretically illegal.” +</p> + +<p> +The other surveyed him sourly. +</p> + +<p> +“Who the dickens are you, anyway?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I happen to be the magistrate of this district. My name’s +Armourer—Michael Armourer. I hope you haven’t damaged yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +The older man placed both hands on his hips, stared at the tail end of +the train—a couple of hundred yards away, where a little group of +natives and Europeans had gathered—at his daughter, and at the +half-frightened coolies who were wandering back into sight again—then +threw out his chest and laughed heartily. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Joyce, here’s an adventure for you! You always declared you +wanted one—and now you’ve got it!—Are you hurt?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear me, no! I’ve grazed my arm; that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Splendid! And now, Mr. Armourer, do you mind sending that train of +yours on? I think we’ve had all the publicity we require this +afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the trolly?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, I was forgetting that. You might ask those grinning +lunatics to get it off the line until the train has gone, then put it +on again and push it back to Jesselton. I’ll pay ’em when they’re +ready to start.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not going on?” +</p> + +<p> +The older man shook his head resolutely. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not going on one of those ghastly things again—in the interests +of science or anything else. You can make your mind quite easy about +that.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, father,” protested the girl, “how are we going to get back?” +</p> + +<p> +He stroked his beard. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall place ourselves unreservedly in the hands of the local +magistrate. I’m not so certain he oughtn’t to arrest us both in any +case. We appear to have been breaking the law!” +</p> + +<p> +He crossed the line and picked up his camera. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose I ought to tell you, Mr. Armourer, that I’m Professor +Herbert Standen and this is my daughter Joyce. I’m interested in a +good many things, but my pet subject is Poisons. And,” he added, “if I +knew of a suitable one at the moment, I’d cheerfully administer it to +the Director of Railways—or whatever he styles himself—who beat me +at golf yesterday and suggested this infernal trolly-ride!” +</p> + +<p> +He examined the camera and, setting it down tenderly at his side, +straightened a leg of the collapsible tripod over his knee. Apparently +satisfied that the total damage to his property was small, he cast an +appreciative eye over the landscape. +</p> + +<p> +“This is certainly a very beautiful spot—very beautiful. What do you +think of it, Joyce?” +</p> + +<p> +The girl was standing a few paces from them, shading her eyes with her +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s simply glorious,” she said at length. “I love it.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer excused himself and hurried off to stimulate the coolies into +action. He returned in half an hour to find the professor and his +daughter down by the water’s edge. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all clear now,” he explained, “and I’ve taken the liberty of +squaring your men for you. I’m afraid I didn’t give them all they had +expected; but it was a good deal more than they deserved. You’d better +come up to my place and see if you think you will be comfortable +enough there.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor stuck his hands in his pockets and favoured the younger +man with an amused smile. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t for one moment suppose I’m going to plant myself and family +on you at a moment’s notice?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid it’s Hobson’s choice. You see, there’s only one train up +and one down a day—and that’s the last of any sort until to-morrow +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +He indicated a faint line of grey smoke that still hung above the +trees. +</p> + +<p> +Standen looked startled. +</p> + +<p> +“But, bless my soul, we ought to have taken that, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, if you wanted to get back to-night. But you told me to +send off the trolly and the train and indicated at the same time that +you didn’t desire publicity, so I thought the best thing you could do +was to stop the night at my bungalow.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor called to Joyce. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you hear that, my dear? Mr. Armourer says we’ve to put up with +him, as there’s nothing to take us to Jesselton until to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce gasped and spread out her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“But I haven’t brought a thing—not even a tooth-brush!” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“We can fix you up with that all right,” he assured her. “There’s an +estate shop within a mile of my house. If there’s anything else you +really require, you had better write a little note to Mrs. Battiscombe +at Rembakut—and one of my men will run over before dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +He picked up the professor’s camera and tripod and crossed the line. +</p> + +<p> +“Does tea appeal to you at the moment, Miss Standen?” +</p> + +<p> +The girl nodded enthusiastically. +</p> + +<p> +“Then follow me. I can promise you a cup in ten minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor took up the rear, shaking his head at intervals. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m extremely grateful to you, I’m sure,” he panted, as they reached +the summit of a steep incline, “but I hate putting anybody to an +inconvenience.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not,” the magistrate laughed back at him. “You’re doing me a +great honour. It’s three weeks since I had a visitor of any sort.” +</p> + +<p> +He extended an arm and pointed to a spot where the shingled roof of a +new bungalow showed amid a veritable forest of growing rubber. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s Moberly’s place. He’s the manager of the estate I told you +about when we were discussing tooth-brushes. It’s one of the best +bungalows out here.” +</p> + +<p> +“It looks simply topping,” commented Joyce, who was by this time +thoroughly reconciled to the prospect of a night spent without her +luggage and secretly exultant that the accident had put an end to what +had promised to be a dull and uninteresting afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +“His rubber looks well,” said Standen. “There’s been a lot of good +work put in there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he’s thorough,” agreed the magistrate. “That dreary-looking +atrocity right ahead of us is my shack.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce looked. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems quite a big place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s not the size I complain of. As a matter of fact it suits me +pretty well, but when visitors come along its many defects have a +habit of becoming apparent. However, you’ll see what it’s like for +yourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +As they crossed the wide stretch of grassland in which the building +lay, a couple of terriers bounded down the steps and came scurrying to +meet them. +</p> + +<p> +It was somewhere between tea and dinner that Armourer, returning from +an excursion to Moberly’s estate shop, found Joyce alone on the +verandah. +</p> + +<p> +He dropped quite a fair-sized parcel into her lap. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there’s your tooth-brush,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +She wrinkled her forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“But this isn’t all tooth-brush!” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” admitted the magistrate, “it’s not; but it all comes under the +category of toilet requisites—except the chocolates—and they’re +supposed to be bad for teeth! Where’s the professor?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t the least idea. He’s wandered out somewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer scanned the landscape. +</p> + +<p> +“Does he often do this?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes; more often than not, in fact.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a singularly convenient sort of parent!” +</p> + +<p> +Her dark eyes met his and they were full of merriment. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not always convenient, you know, to be left like this. Father’s +quite capable of dumping me anywhere—and forgetting where he’s put +me, just like he does with his umbrella.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he <i>will</i> come back, of course?” inquired Armourer with mock +anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course. Don’t you want him to?” +</p> + +<p> +He sat down opposite her and, clasping his hands over one knee, he +appeared to be thinking deeply. +</p> + +<p> +“My proper answer would be—yes, most certainly; but what I really +want to say is that, if I am to be employed as a left-luggage office +by absent-minded professors of poisons—er—well, it occurs to me that +you’re rather the sort of baggage I should like to be left behind and +never claimed! Now, that was really clever; wasn’t it? Do look at that +sunset! It’s the only decent thing about here I’ve got to show you.” +</p> + +<p> +She sprang to her feet and ran to the rail. Armourer stood close +behind her, and for a matter of seconds an exceedingly beautiful +brunette and a particularly good-looking young man remained in close +proximity, the last eerie rays of a departing sun bathing them in an +unearthly pallor. +</p> + +<p> +The glory of the heavens—now that the sun had gone—left her +breathless and trembling. +</p> + +<p> +She looked up at him. +</p> + +<p> +“I have never seen anything like it,” she murmured. “Isn’t it just +wonderful?” +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove, it is,” averred Armourer; but he was looking at her, and for +him the glories of the Eastern sunset were forgotten. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch04"> +CHAPTER IV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Dance at Rembakut</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">It</span> was towards nine o’clock when Vera Battiscombe, immersed in the +contents of a paper-covered volume, heard a horseman come flying +across the night-shrouded clearing and slither to a standstill +immediately under the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +She glanced up sharply, wondering if it could be Dick Moberly, anxious +to discover what had prevented her paying her intended visit. +</p> + +<p> +A cheery voice from the blackness swiftly disillusioned her. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, there! Anybody alive?” +</p> + +<p> +She went to the rail. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, Mr. Armourer? Yes, I’m very much alive, thanks; but +Jim’s in Jesselton. Won’t you come up?” +</p> + +<p> +He handed his pony over to one of Battiscombe’s men and came up the +steps three at a time. +</p> + +<p> +Michael Armourer was one of the few men with whom she had never been +able to make headway, and probably for that reason more than any other +she unconsciously sharpened every weapon in her armoury at his +approach. He was handsome, broad-shouldered and essentially virile, +but invariably left her with the impression that he liked her very +much and found her excellent company, but that, according to his +notions on life, the fact that she was Jim Battiscombe’s lawful wife +presented an impenetrable barrier to anything that savoured of +intimacy. +</p> + +<p> +He came into the radius of the lamplight and extended a large hand. +</p> + +<p> +“How are you, Mrs. Battiscombe. Sorry Jim’s away. I should like to +have seen him. As a matter of fact I’ve come over on rather a delicate +mission. I was going to dispatch an orderly on the job, but got it +into my head he might muck it up. I should never have forgiven myself +if he’d rolled up with a pair of Jim’s pyjamas instead of a +<i>nightie</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +Vera wagged an admonishing finger. +</p> + +<p> +“I know what it is, Mr. Armourer; you’ve been drinking.” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Not unduly. I did open a bottle of <i>bubbly</i> for the professor, but he +mopped up most of it himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then what on earth are you talking about?” +</p> + +<p> +“This,” said Armourer, and thrust a sealed envelope into her hand. +“I’ve visitors at my place. They got tied up in a trolly accident and +hadn’t brought any <i>barang</i>. I managed to fix up the old man; but the +lady presented difficulties. I haven’t the remotest idea what’s in +that note, and I am given to understand that the parcel is to be duly +secured and sealed before it’s handed over to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Battiscombe perused the contents of the letter with an amused +smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I read it out to you?” +</p> + +<p> +He retreated across the floor, waving his hands in front of him. +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven forbid! Have pity on my youth and innocence, please!” +</p> + +<p> +Vera laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“But, my dear man, what on earth could a woman require for a single +night that an average man shouldn’t hear about?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” returned Armourer, “I haven’t even bothered to think. +In any case, I don’t suppose it amounts to anything much, but the fact +that I am conveying the confounded paraphernalia from one woman +acquaintance to another makes me prefer to remain in a state of +blissful ignorance.” +</p> + +<p> +She flashed a sidelong glance at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Is she pretty?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer pretended to reflect on a subject upon which he had long made +up his mind. +</p> + +<p> +“As a matter of fact, I suppose she is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fair or dark?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dark, I suppose you’d say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, she must be one or the other, mustn’t she?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly—unless she happens to be something in between.” He bent +forward earnestly. “Does your husband allow people to drink on his +verandah when he’s away? I mean when people happen to have ridden +rather a long way and swallowed a fair amount of dust?” +</p> + +<p> +“My poor man. I’m so sorry!” +</p> + +<p> +She touched the bell. +</p> + +<p> +“Hoon-Kit,” she said to the servant who shuffled in, “the <i>Tuan-Hakim</i> +of Jelandang is thirsty. Bring in the decanter and a glass.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not in the plural?” demanded Armourer. +</p> + +<p> +Vera smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I don’t care for whisky—and my husband doesn’t like me to +drink with strange men—even if they have ridden a long way and +swallowed a lot of dust!” +</p> + +<p> +She accompanied the latter half of the remark with a grimace. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer looked at the ceiling. +</p> + +<p> +“It really is refreshing,” he retorted, “to discover a woman who is +actuated solely by her husband’s desires. Er—does Jim know about +this?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I altogether like you,” declared Mrs. Battiscombe. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>boy</i> brought in the decanter and Armourer helped himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Did Jim go down by the train?” he asked suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +Vera nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Then the Lord only knows what time he arrived in town. She was an +hour and a half behind time when she passed my place.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I do. That seems to indicate he’ll be late back.” +</p> + +<p> +She shuddered. +</p> + +<p> +“I loathe sitting up here all alone,” she said. “Isn’t it just too +annoying! I haven’t spoken to a soul except Hoon-Kit since tea. Be a +Christian and sit down and talk for a bit.” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Sorry, Mrs. Battiscombe, but I’ve got to get back to my guests. +Besides, you’re forgetting the parcel!” +</p> + +<p> +She came right up to him, putting every ounce of pleading she knew how +into her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Half an hour!” +</p> + +<p> +He picked up his hat. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t be done. You see, Miss Standen’s probably tired and waiting for +her kit, and——” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re just itching to get back to her!” she concluded for him. +</p> + +<p> +He held his glass to the light. +</p> + +<p> +He was in a queer mood that night, a state of mind that had obsessed +him ever since that look he had exchanged in the brief twilight with a +girl he had known but a handful of minutes. The thought flashed across +him that the professor and his daughter were only awaiting his return +to go to bed and that, even if they stopped up with him for a while, +it was highly improbable that Joyce and he would be permitted to +remain alone for a second time. And here was a superlatively +attractive woman begging him to perform a common act of charity. +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” he said; “I’ll stop. One of Jim’s men can take the +stuff.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s awfully good of you. Just a minute and I’ll get the things. Do +you want to send any message?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer rubbed his chin. +</p> + +<p> +“Better tell the professor I’m delayed here on business, but hope to +be across in an hour or so. He needn’t trouble to wait up unless he +wants to. Shall I write it down?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no. I’ll see that Corporal Kuraman sends somebody with +intelligence.” +</p> + +<p> +As she passed the long mirror she looked into it and smiled. +</p> + +<p> +She found Armourer presently, leaning over the rail, smoking. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me a cigarette, please.” +</p> + +<p> +He held out his case. +</p> + +<p> +“What are we going to do?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want to do?” +</p> + +<p> +She insisted on lighting her cigarette from the glowing end of his +cigar, a process that brought them into such close proximity that he +found it embarrassing. +</p> + +<p> +He had always pretended to himself that he despised Mrs. Battiscombe +for the flagrancy with which she conducted her amours, but, under +present conditions, he caught himself in the act of reconsidering this +opinion. It was only a step from this to tacitly admit that Jimmie +Battiscombe was rather a stodgy companion for an endless succession of +breakfasts, dinners and teas, and it was scarcely to be wondered at if +a girl with some <i>go</i> in her should seek to relieve the tedium of +tropical loneliness with an occasional flirtation. +</p> + +<p> +Vera had somehow succeeded in infusing into his veins a pleasurable +feeling of comfort and self-satisfaction, combined with a dash of +recklessness. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” he laughed. “What is there to do?” +</p> + +<p> +She possessed herself of an arm and led him towards the gramophone. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s dance. Let’s pretend we’re in a really smart restaurant in a +really big town and that we’ve had a really nice dinner!” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer grinned. +</p> + +<p> +“Anything else?” +</p> + +<p> +“And that you’re dancing with a really nice girl—that you really +like!” +</p> + +<p> +He fell into the trap. +</p> + +<p> +“I shan’t need to pretend that,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +She pounced on this first rash admission and used it for all she was +worth. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +He hedged. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t I what?” +</p> + +<p> +“You know what you said.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did I say?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>I</i> haven’t forgotten,” said Mrs. Battiscombe, contriving to blush. +</p> + +<p> +She delved into a pile of discs. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s have a fox-trot. <i>Eastern Stars</i> is good.” +</p> + +<p> +She poised the needle carefully on the record, gave it a little +sideways tap with her finger and closed the lid. +</p> + +<p> +For the first time he noticed her frock. It was a greeny-blue clinging +affair, and it dawned on him that she had slipped it on while making +up the parcel for Joyce. +</p> + +<p> +As she stood there, waiting for him to take her, the devilry of all +the witches of mythology danced in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you ready?” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +He passed a moist hand over his forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose so,” he stammered, and awoke to discover that they were +dancing. +</p> + +<p> +From that moment his enthusiasm grew until they raced back to the +machine at the conclusion of each tune and the records overflowed on +to the table and the floor as they were played and discarded. +</p> + +<p> +A sudden thought made him glance at his watch. They were in the middle +of a one-step, and she held his wrist, trying to stop him looking. He +succeeded at length and his face fell. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Quarter past eleven.” +</p> + +<p> +“It can’t be.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is, by Jove!” +</p> + +<p> +He held it so that she could see for herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Just one more,” she pleaded. +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Right-ho! The very last, mind.” +</p> + +<p> +They ran to the gramophone and his fingers sought the handle a second +only after hers. In the excitement of the moment he allowed them to +remain longer than he had intended. +</p> + +<p> +“Michael!” +</p> + +<p> +He was aware of the sensation of something cold trickling down his +spine. He turned to find her upturned face so close to him that he +felt her warm breath on his cheeks. Those lips of hers were the very +devil! +</p> + +<p> +He hadn’t the remotest idea why he did it. Never in his wildest +imaginings had he ever intended to supplant Dick Moberly. He could +have sworn that, without any effort on his part, those lips came +closer—until they touched his.… +</p> + +<p> +A voice came from the stairway: +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, you two! What on earth are you up to?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer brought his head up with a jerk and turned awkwardly to greet +James Battiscombe. +</p> + +<p> +Vera was coolness itself. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, Jim! Back at last? I didn’t go over to Bukit-Serang after all. +I just stopped here on my own, until Mr. Armourer rode over for some +clothes for a girl who’d got stranded with her father. He told me the +train was late and I made him stop. We’ve been dancing.” +</p> + +<p> +Her husband stood in the centre of the floor, his topee at the back of +his head, swinging his monocle on its string. +</p> + +<p> +“So I see,” he remarked, in a tone that was entirely new to her. He +nodded to Armourer. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Michael! Playing the good Samaritan?” +</p> + +<p> +The younger man felt uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +“I had to decide,” he managed to say, “between my unexpected guests +and Mrs. Battiscombe.” +</p> + +<p> +“You had no difficulty, I take it, in coming to a decision?” +</p> + +<p> +Vera frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“I persuaded him to stay.” +</p> + +<p> +He thrust his hands in his pockets and looked at her. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll wager you did! Well, good-night, Michael. I’ll try and drop over +and see you one of these days. I hope you’re not too tired, Vera, +because I’ve quite a lot I want to say to you.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch05"> +CHAPTER V.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Battiscombe Asserts Himself</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Jim</span>!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +She came closer. +</p> + +<p> +“Why were you so rude to Mr. Armourer?” +</p> + +<p> +A suggestion of the old weakness of character crept into his face. He +remained for some moments blinking into her eyes as a man trying to +accustom his gaze to the light. Presently his features hardened and he +regarded her squarely. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, Vera, how much longer is this sort of thing to go on? Do +you expect me to be polite to these—harmless acquaintances of yours +for an eternity?” +</p> + +<p> +She flushed angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand you. What in the name of goodness are you driving +at?” +</p> + +<p> +He brought his fist heavily down on to the table and the glass +Armourer had used rolled off and broke on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“You know very well what I’m talking about. Don’t beat about the bush. +Answer me!” +</p> + +<p> +Completely bewildered, she racked her brain for some clue to the +solution of her husband’s changed attitude. Jumping at the most +obvious conclusion, she repeated the suggestion she had made earlier +in the evening to Michael. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been drinking.” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” he retorted, “I’ve been drinking all right. I dropped in at +Vance’s place and had a couple on the way up. I’ve been treated to a +considerable amount of undiluted hell on your account this +evening—and I felt I was in need of something to steady myself. I can +put up with a lot—more than most men, I fancy—but there are some +things I can’t stand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Such as——?” +</p> + +<p> +“Such as discovering my own wife kissing one of my colleagues on the +verandah of my own house!” +</p> + +<p> +She was trembling with fury now, her fingers clenching and unclenching +themselves at her sides. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s not true; you know it’s not true!” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to heaven it weren’t; but, for the first time in all this +miserable business, I have the evidence of my own eyes. Good Lord, +Vera, haven’t you some sense of decency? Leaving me out of the +question altogether, aren’t there sufficient scoundrels on the island +without you wanting to seduce a decent boy like Armourer?” +</p> + +<p> +She made a sudden movement towards her room. +</p> + +<p> +“If you’ve nothing but these vile accusations to level at me, I’m +going to bed.” +</p> + +<p> +He stepped between her and the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen to me,” he said sternly, “you’re not going to leave this +verandah until you’ve heard everything I’ve got to say.” +</p> + +<p> +She tried to push past him, but he caught her by both arms and forced +her into a chair. +</p> + +<p> +She sprang out of it again, her cheeks very white, her eyes blazing. +</p> + +<p> +“How dare you treat me like that! How dare you bully me!” Her lower +lip quivered and she buried her face in her hands. She collapsed in +the chair again, seeking refuge in tears. “You—hurt—me.” +</p> + +<p> +He stood irresolutely over her, his features twitching. He was feeling +uncommonly miserable, and, had she sought to retreat at that moment, +he could not have mustered courage to detain her. A weak impulse +prompted him to take her in his arms and comfort her, but that final +scene between Armourer and his wife still rankled, and he choked it +down. +</p> + +<p> +Remembering something, he dived a hand into a side-pocket and threw a +bulky packet into her lap. +</p> + +<p> +She glanced at it through her fingers, but did not move. +</p> + +<p> +“You will find some of your own letters there,” he told her hoarsely, +“letters from Moberly to his wife suggesting a divorce and letters +from Mrs. Moberly to the Governor. I am counting on you to explain why +Moberly should have imagined his wife had grounds for obtaining a +divorce.” +</p> + +<p> +She gulped down something, withdrew her fingers slowly and turned a +tear-stained face up to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you get these?” she asked dully. +</p> + +<p> +He sat on the edge of the table and folded his arms. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Moberly has been in correspondence with the Governor for some +time. She has known Sir Henry for a good many years. I am given to +understand that he doesn’t desire to pose in any way as a censor of +morals, but that, wishing to put an end to what he regarded as a +highly undesirable state of affairs, he forwarded these letters to the +Commissioner.” +</p> + +<p> +Her fingers fidgeted with the tape that bound the bundle. +</p> + +<p> +“That was why he wanted to see you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +“And you believe all these—horrible fabrications?” +</p> + +<p> +He clasped his hands between his knees and swayed uncomfortably to and +fro. +</p> + +<p> +“What else am I to believe? You say you didn’t go to Bukit-Serang this +afternoon?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? If you are going to tell me it was out of any sense of +decent feeling for me, I’m afraid I can’t believe it.” +</p> + +<p> +She was dangerously near tears again. +</p> + +<p> +“Jim, why are you such a beast to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you such a beast to <i>me</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not,” she sobbed. “I’ve just tried to amuse myself; that’s all. I +did kiss Michael Armourer. I made him kiss me. You don’t suppose I did +that because I cared about him? Men are such fools!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m just beginning to realise it,” said Battiscombe. “I’m not in the +least bit blind to the fact that you’ve fooled <i>me</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head sadly. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll never understand me, Jim. You’ve brought me out to the East +and you expect me to behave with all the absurd decorum of the +suburbs. Spices, tropical sunshine—and colour! If you want to blame +anything, you must blame the surroundings, the climate and the +unutterable loneliness. You’ve had your work; I’ve had nothing to do +but to bask in the sunshine and absorb! It’s got into my veins—this +Borneo of yours. I’ve caught the spirit of the place and, to all +intents and purposes, I’m a headhunter. I delight in these little +conquests. Armourer was a real conquest, Jim, because in his heart of +hearts he despised me—and he despises me still. Oh, I know I’ve +sinned. In that respect I’ve sinned terribly. I’ve ridden back, +flushed with excitement at my wrong-doing, like a naughty child +expecting to be smacked; but you’ve never smacked me, Jim. You’ve just +sat there, fat, contented, blind… until I could have shrieked at +you—‘Dick Moberly’s kissed me; do you hear? What are you going to do +about it?’ You’re lucky that that’s all that has happened; but it is +all!” +</p> + +<p> +He glanced down at his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you swear that?” he demanded presently in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +She rose with a sudden movement and leaned against him, smoothing the +lapels of his jacket between finger and thumb. She looked up at him, +her blue eyes that seemed so honest brimming over with mute +appeal—and Jim Battiscombe succumbed. +</p> + +<p> +He crushed her to him—this beautiful penitent, swathed in the vampire +frock she had selected to overwhelm Michael, and she was far too +clever to complain of his roughness then. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been a little rotter to you, Jim,” she whispered. “You must be +firm with me in future—ever so firm; do you understand?” +</p> + +<p> +Her husband nodded. He was so utterly overcome, so profoundly +optimistic that their married life had found its second wind, that he +forgot she had evaded his question. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor little woman!” he murmured presently. “I’m afraid I’ve been very +much to blame.” He caught sight of the pile of letters in their +binding of official tape that had fallen to the floor as she rose. +“We’ll burn those damned letters—every blessed one of ’em. Anyhow,” +he added fiercely, “this affair’s shown up Moberly in his true +colours. You won’t want to see him again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never,” she agreed with almost unnecessary emphasis. Moberly’s +indiscretion had led her into uncommonly deep waters—and she was not +likely to forget it in a hurry. This would be a lesson to her for all +time, and she would take care Michael Armourer did not commit a +similar error. Besides, she remembered, Armourer was unmarried. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose he’s given you presents?—brooches and things?” +</p> + +<p> +She started. +</p> + +<p> +“You want me to send them back?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather!—every one!” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, I will. I’ll make them up into a parcel the first thing in +the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe rubbed his hands together. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll do it now and wash our hands of the whole affair.” +</p> + +<p> +He observed her tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a wonderful little woman, Vera. I don’t wonder fellows fall +head over ears in love with you the minute they see you.” +</p> + +<p> +She was still nestling in his arms and there was a gap between her +frock and her neck. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” he exclaimed, “what’s this?” +</p> + +<p> +His glance had fallen on the chain of gold filigree, and before she +could prevent him he had drawn the Crimson Butterfly from its +hiding-place into the lamp-light. “I’ve never seen this before.” +</p> + +<p> +He groped for the fastening with his great fingers. +</p> + +<p> +A moment later he held the pendant in his palm and Vera stood a little +away from him cudgelling her fertile brain for some excuse to account +for its presence there. +</p> + +<p> +As he pawed it wonderingly, struck momentarily dumb by the sheer +beauty of the thing, a queer feeling stole over him. He could have +sworn that he was handling something unutterably unclean. +</p> + +<p> +He looked up sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“Did he give you this, too?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Battiscombe hesitated. She was on the point of explaining how +Abu-Samar had stopped her, induced her to go to his house and forced +her to accept the gift, when she realised the difficulties besetting +any such confession. She had already told him that she had refrained +from embarking upon her proposed expedition to inspect Moberly’s +newly-erected clubhouse. She would have to correct that statement, +which would be a remarkably bad beginning to a rather improbable +story. Jim had doubted her once that night, and, having put these +doubts to flight, it would be a pity to risk arousing them again. +</p> + +<p> +“Er—yes. It’s pretty, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +He dropped it on the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Extraordinarily so. Wonder where he got it?” +</p> + +<p> +She gave the faintest shrug to her shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“In some bazaar in Colombo or Singapore, I fancy. He did tell me.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe slid from his perch, and, foraging for some moments in a +cupboard, unearthed a sheet of brown paper. He spread it out and +placed the pendant on it. +</p> + +<p> +“That’ll make a good start, anyway. Trot out all the other little +tokens of affection, dear, and we’ll get this job off our chests.” +</p> + +<p> +She sighed deeply. +</p> + +<p> +“Must we do it to-night? I’m so tired.” +</p> + +<p> +For once he was firm. +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely. It won’t take you a moment.” +</p> + +<p> +She went to her room. +</p> + +<p> +Five minutes later he carried off a little oblong parcel to the back +of the house. He came back smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“And that’s the end of Mr. Richard Moberly! I’ve given it to Kuraman, +and our worthy planter will find it when he comes on to the verandah +for an early breakfast. It’ll help him to start the day well!” +</p> + +<p> +She surveyed him doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Oughtn’t I to have written?” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“In future, whenever the necessity arises for anyone to write to Dick +Moberly, it’s going to be your lawful husband!” +</p> + +<p> +She was arranging her hair in front of the glass when Jim’s head and +shoulders came round the door. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Vera!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes?” she responded through a mouthful of pins. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t tell you, did I? The Commissioner’s instructed me to watch +that black feller closely.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked round. +</p> + +<p> +“Black fellow?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, yes; the chap who styles himself Dr. Abu-Samar. I happened to +mention our little encounter this morning and he got quite excited. As +far as I can make out, Samar’s not a doctor at all. He’s a +revolutionary of a most dangerous type and has already given trouble +in Sarawak. He’s believed to get a hold over the natives by sheer +hypnotism. He can make ’em believe anything. Well, good night, little +woman. Sleep well.” +</p> + +<p> +The door closed softly. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch06"> +CHAPTER VI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Magic of Abu-Samar</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">That</span> night Vera Battiscombe dreamed a peculiar dream; peculiar +because she rarely dreamed at all, and doubly peculiar because she had +no memory of ever falling off to sleep or, in fact, waking after it. +</p> + +<p> +She had been lying, her hands clasped behind her head, staring up at +the oblong patch of white cotton from which the mosquito-curtains were +suspended, thinking over the events of the past twenty-four hours. It +had been an eventful day, in all conscience, she reflected, and +allowed the principal characters in a drama for which she herself had +been primarily responsible to pass before her eyes in quick +succession. Abu-Samar, Armourer, Jim—posing so ridiculously as the +injured husband and coming conveniently into line in the end—and the +sacrificed Dick Moberly, deservedly sacrificed at the altar of his own +indiscretions. +</p> + +<p> +She wondered idly what the planter would say when he discovered the +Crimson Butterfly in the parcel—whether he would return it +immediately or keep it until he had found an opportunity of seeing her +and demanding an explanation. The thought of the Butterfly brought her +back to Dr. Samar. If what the Commissioner had told her husband were +true, the fact that he had merely induced her to accompany him to his +house and frightened her was all the more to be wondered at. It +flashed across her mind that his rather unusual conduct was not +without its motive, but what that motive was she could not for the +life of her discover. +</p> + +<p> +A sense of uneasiness crept over her. +</p> + +<p> +It was quiet outside, and the house was unusually still. The perpetual +droning of insects, the shrill whine of a mosquito seeking some flaw +in the netting, the deep, rhythmic snoring of her husband in the +adjoining room—all these familiar sounds seemed to be receding into +the distance. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly a fierce gust of hot wind blew in through an open window, and +the little lamp by her bed flickered and went out. She knew the wind +was hot, for it fanned her cheek, and yet, by every known law, the +breeze at that early hour of the morning should have been cool. The +dog on the verandah gave a peculiar yelp and moved restlessly on the +cane chair upon which it invariably reposed.… +</p> + +<p> +She shut her eyes resolutely and turned over on to her side and a +queer noise broke upon her ears like the rushing of waters. There was +a dry sensation in her mouth and the heat was becoming unbearable. She +sat up, intending to reach for the quinine, firmly convinced by this +time that she was in for a dose of fever. Her eyes hurt her, and, even +before she raised the lids, she was conscious of a bright red light. +</p> + +<p> +Groping for the bottle, she discovered that the mosquito-curtains had +disappeared. She opened her eyes wide and, at the sight that met her +gaze, endeavoured to scream; but no sound came. +</p> + +<p> +It was as if, by some extraordinary miracle, everything with which she +was familiar had been spirited away. The four walls within which she +had lain secure—the roof even—had vanished. +</p> + +<p> +She found herself reclining upon a divan of orange-coloured silk, with +the great stars blinking down at her from a violet dome, and in the +red light from a tall brazier at the foot of her couch a myriad of +winged creatures fluttered. By the base of the brazier a native girl +lay asleep. +</p> + +<p> +Gradually, as her frightened eyes accustomed themselves to the outer +gloom, she discerned the vague outlines of rocky crags and the more +distant tips of tall trees. +</p> + +<p> +She dropped back on to her elbows and her voice returned to her. +</p> + +<p> +She called to the girl in Malay, and the brown form stirred. Her face +came round and Mrs. Battiscombe recognised the girl she had seen at +Samar’s bungalow. +</p> + +<p> +“Goddess of the Crimson Butterfly, I hear!” +</p> + +<p> +She uttered a little cry and clutched at her breast. Her fingers +closed over the pendant that Battiscombe had insisted on sending to +Moberly. +</p> + +<p> +It was then that she saw that she herself wore a <i>sarong</i>—a sheath of +shiny black powdered with gold that swathed her from her breasts to +just below her knees—and that her arms, her neck and her ankles were +hung with treasures that resembled those which Abu-Samar had produced +from his cedar-wood coffer. +</p> + +<p> +“Where am I?” she asked faintly. +</p> + +<p> +“In your temple, O goddess!” returned the brown girl, and threw +something into the brazier which sent its flames flaring to the +heavens. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Battiscombe sat bolt upright and beckoned. +</p> + +<p> +“Come here,” she said. “I want you to tell me why I am here and who +brought me.” +</p> + +<p> +Brown eyes surveyed her strangely, incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +“The goddess remembers nothing?” +</p> + +<p> +Vera shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing; nothing at all. I was in bed at my husband’s house—and the +wind came…” +</p> + +<p> +The girl drew closer and stood presently, with her arms folded, +looking down at the white woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Great goddess,” she said, “I am Dara—and I obey. Once, before the +white man came in his ships across the black waters, there was a white +goddess in the temple of the Crimson Butterfly—so wonderful in her +loveliness that all men who beheld her desired to possess her. She +wore the emblem of the Sacred Butterfly at her throat and no man dared +draw near to her because of it. After a little while, a strange man +came who had not heard that the kiss of the goddess was death—and so +died. There came another and yet another, each sharing the same fate, +until the goddess, wearying of chiefs’ sons, sought to entrap the Sun. +Upon a certain night, the Sun dropped not into the western sea, but +fell into the temple of the Crimson Butterfly—and for many moons +there was nothing but darkness. The Butterfly—whose life was the +Sun—feared to destroy it, and when at last the Sun rose again it was +seen that the goddess, too, had departed. Nevertheless, it was written +that in a thousand moons she would return again to her people. +To-night the prophecy is fulfilled; the fires of the temple burn once +more and there is again a goddess at the shrine of the Crimson +Butterfly.” +</p> + +<p> +Vera Battiscombe moistened her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“And how do you know I am the real goddess?—I might be an impostor.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Those who sought you found the symbol at your throat.” +</p> + +<p> +She pointed to the butterfly pendant. +</p> + +<p> +Vera moved impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“But that’s perfectly ridiculous,” she insisted. “I had never set eyes +upon the Crimson Butterfly until this afternoon. Dr. Abu-Samar made me +take it.” +</p> + +<p> +And still the brown girl shook her head obstinately. +</p> + +<p> +“The prophecy is fulfilled!” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Battiscombe sprang from the divan and shook her violently. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” she screamed. “This is all a trick, an act of vengeance +because my husband unfortunately insulted Dr. Samar when he came to +him yesterday. I am an Englishwoman. I was born in England. I should +never have come to this wretched island if I hadn’t married. Get me my +proper clothes and take me back.” +</p> + +<p> +She threw the girl from her and looked up into the evil eyes of Dr. +Abu-Samar. +</p> + +<p> +Instinctively aware of the scantiness of her attire, she shrank back +from him. +</p> + +<p> +“Goddess of the Crimson Butterfly,” he taunted her, “I have summoned +you—and you have come. The dog is still sleeping, the little soldiers +in the round hats have not stirred. To Abu-Samar those things are as +nothing. You have sent my gift away, but it will come back to you; it +will always come back—and the kiss of the goddess is death!” +</p> + +<p> +She clapped her hands over her ears to shut out the sound of his voice +and, turning on her heel, ran heedlessly into the darkness. The night +air was cold and moist, and suddenly she realised that she was +standing on the soft earth at the foot of the long flight of steps +that led up to the bungalow. +</p> + +<p> +It was almost light now and the feathery tops of the palm trees showed +like phantom creations above a sea of billowy mist. +</p> + +<p> +She was about to seize the wooden rail and commence the ascent when +she discovered that her hands were full. She was staring with startled +eyes upon a brown-paper packet that had somehow become broken open and +from which protruded the Crimson Butterfly. +</p> + +<p> +The sound of quick footsteps above made her thrust the packet into the +pocket of the pyjama jacket she wore. +</p> + +<p> +James Battiscombe, his face very white, his hair on end, peered down +at her. +</p> + +<p> +“Vera! Where on earth have you been? You gave me the shock of my +life.” +</p> + +<p> +He hurried down the steps and carried her up. +</p> + +<p> +A minute later she was in a long chair, with a blanket wrapped round +her, making faces at the brandy he insisted on forcing between her +lips. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I heard you moving and went into your room,” he explained, +tapping the cork back into the bottle. “You weren’t there. I didn’t +know what to think. It occurred to me that, after the row we had last +night, you’d got snorky and bolted.” He rested his hands on his hips +and beamed down at her. “You don’t usually walk in your sleep, do +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she assented weakly, “I don’t think I’ve ever done it before.” +</p> + +<p> +And then, an irresistible drowsiness stealing over her, she fell +asleep. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch07"> +CHAPTER VII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A Strange Insect</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Mrs. Battiscombe</span> blinked and looked up. +</p> + +<p> +She was still lying in the long chair on the verandah and the blue +sun-blinds had been drawn. There filtered up to her through the +morning air the chattering of natives, the contented clucking of hens, +the ring of an axe in the forest. +</p> + +<p> +Still in a state of semi-coma, she dimly realised that Jim, with his +accustomed thoughtfulness, had drawn the table to her side, so that +the bell which would summon Hoon-Kit was within easy reach. +</p> + +<p> +She yawned and was about to turn over and continue her slumbers when +her arm touched the pocket of her pyjama-coat. A guilty feeling stole +over her and she forced herself into a sitting position. With +trembling fingers she fumbled for the contents, hoping to discover +that the bulging contour of the pocket was due to an accumulation of +handkerchiefs, to a bottle of quinine tabloids placed there by +accident, to anything rather than the packet she imagined she had +removed from the custody of Battiscombe’s men in her sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Her worst suspicions were justified. The parcel which should have gone +to Moberly at dawn was still there. +</p> + +<p> +She held it at arm’s length, and, as she did so the ghastly details of +her nightmare built themselves up in her imagination with a vividness +that set her trembling. It had not all been a dream, could not have +been, for here was a portion of it—glaringly concrete—within her +fingers. She was weary, too, thoroughly exhausted, as if she had +undergone some stupendous fatigue. Her head throbbed, her eyes felt +sore and watered in the light, and she was conscious of a dull aching +from head to foot. How much, her reeling brain demanded, had been +real—and how much illusion? +</p> + +<p> +Her watch had stopped. Still holding the blanket round her, she crept +to the living-room door and saw, by the clock that hung on the wall, +that it was ten minutes past eleven. +</p> + +<p> +Jim would be coming from the court-house at noon. +</p> + +<p> +She unearthed a fresh sheet of paper and made the parcel up again. A +strong impulse assailed her to withdraw the butterfly pendant and +dispose of it in some manner when her husband was away, but she fought +it down. The thing frightened her. She must get it out of the house or +she would go mad. +</p> + +<p> +In the seclusion of her own room she scrambled into some clothes and +penned a hasty note to Dick. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">My Dear</span>, +</p> + +<p> +“Jim has come to his senses at last and, for a time at least, we must +put an end to everything. Keep everything you find here. Some day I +hope to be able to see you and explain.—<span class="sc">Vera</span>.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +She was about to fold it when force of habit made her add her +inevitable postscript. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“An awful scene last night; it made me dream. Rotten, isn’t it?—V.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +She pushed it between the folds of the brown paper and rang the bell. +</p> + +<p> +In her excited frame of mind, it seemed an eternity before Hoon-Kit +shuffled to the door and knocked. +</p> + +<p> +“Give this to one of the <i>Tuan-Hakim’s</i> men and tell him to take it +immediately to the <i>Tuan</i> Moberly’s house. It is the parcel that +should have gone earlier this morning. He need say nothing to the +<i>Tuan-Hakim</i>. <i>Tahu</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +The man grinned and withdrew. +</p> + +<p> +In five minutes he was back again. +</p> + +<p> +He found his mistress fully dressed, standing at the open door that +led to the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +“The man has gone,” he reported. +</p> + +<p> +She heaved a deep sigh of relief. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well.” She produced a silver dollar and held it out to him. +“Give this to the soldier when he returns.” +</p> + +<p> +The coin passed into the doubtful security of a pocket of a pair of +Battiscombe’s discarded trousers. +</p> + +<p> +“The man was very glad,” resumed Hoon-Kit, looking down at his feet. +“The <i>Tuan-Hakim</i> gave him the packet last night—and this morning he +could not find it. He feared that the <i>Tuan</i> would be angry.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Baik-lah</i>, Hoon-Kit,” and she dismissed him. +</p> + +<p> +She remained, a hand on either door-post, staring through the opening +between the blinds. The colour had come back to her cheeks and there +was a triumphant light in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Things had turned out better than she had dared to expect. Moberly’s +presents had gone back to him, there was no danger he would return the +Crimson Butterfly, and Jim would never know the parcel had been +delayed. +</p> + +<p> +She started violently. Through that opening at the head of the stairs +where the sun threw a rectangle of yellow light across the boarded +floor there fluttered an enormous crimson butterfly. It encircled for +a moment in the sunlight, beat against the blinds, then settled on the +table by her chair. +</p> + +<p> +She stood there, rooted to the spot, her eyes drawn to it by a strange +fascination. +</p> + +<p> +The insect was formed like a butterfly and yet the familiar delicacy +of the wings was absent. It appeared to her as a coarse, unlovely +creature, with a corrugated surface like a rubber sponge, the +countless pores of which seemed to open and close as she looked. Had +she encountered it in the jungle, settling on the bark of a +forest-monarch, she would probably have mistaken it for a poisonous +fungus. +</p> + +<p> +It swooped into the air again and flew straight toward her. +</p> + +<p> +She uttered a wild scream and Hoon-Kit, who had been laying the table +for the mid-day meal, hurried on to the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +“The <i>mem</i> is ill?” he inquired blankly. +</p> + +<p> +She waved her arms frantically. +</p> + +<p> +“Drive it away,” she cried. “Quickly!—that cushion!—anything!—It’s +horrible—horrible!” +</p> + +<p> +Hoon-Kit reached behind him for a table-napkin and hit at the thing as +it passed. +</p> + +<p> +He missed it by inches and stood staring after it as it wheeled into +the open again and was gone. +</p> + +<p> +“The Crimson Butterfly!” she exclaimed in a voice that was barely a +whisper. +</p> + +<p> +The Chinaman nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Yah</i>—a butterfly; that is all!” +</p> + +<p> +He folded the table-napkin carefully, shaking his head all the while. +It was evident in every line of his brown, wrinkled face that he was +at a loss to discover the cause of his mistress’s panic. Suddenly he +brightened and grinned broadly. +</p> + +<p> +“The <i>mem</i> does not like red butterflies?” he suggested. +</p> + +<p> +She endeavoured to conjure up a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, Hoon-Kit,” she said. “It was very stupid of me. I did not +see it was a butterfly. I thought it was something else. Bring in a +bottle of lager for your master; he will be here very soon now.” +</p> + +<p> +As soon as he had gone, she sank into a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“It had green eyes,” she muttered to herself, “I saw them.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch08"> +CHAPTER VIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Professor Turns Naturalist</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Hullo</span>, young people! Sorry I’m late for tiffin.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor came up the stairs, breathing heavily. His face was very +red and glistened with moisture, his tunic was open and he was mudded +up to his knees. +</p> + +<p> +Joyce sprang to her feet and ran to meet him. +</p> + +<p> +“Father! Where on earth have you been?” +</p> + +<p> +He kissed the top of her head and waved a peculiar object over her +back at Armourer. +</p> + +<p> +“What d’you think of that?” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate removed his pipe from between his teeth and observed it +curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“A butterfly net,” he suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly—and if I’d had it half an hour ago, I’d have saved myself a +lot of unnecessary exertion.” +</p> + +<p> +His daughter took it from him. +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you get it?” +</p> + +<p> +The professor mopped his forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“A most intelligent Sikh, whom I encountered in my travels, +constructed it in less than twenty minutes. He happened to have the +materials handy. You see, it’s quite simple. Just a couple of feet of +bent cane, a little binding and some mosquito netting. He’s made a +first-class job of it, don’t you think so, Armourer?” +</p> + +<p> +The younger man took it from the girl and made a wild swipe in the +empty air. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite an efficient sort of implement.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very nice, of course,” she conceded; “but I don’t see what use +it is.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said her father, “I don’t for one moment suppose you do. I +shouldn’t myself, if I hadn’t caught sight of the butterfly. It was a +unique specimen—large and red and particularly clumsy in flight, and +it managed to inspire me with the enthusiasm of a boy. I remembered, +too, that Baines’s last words to me were—‘If you do happen to find +any rare bugs, try and get me them.’ ” He blinked over his glasses at +Armourer. “He has a wonderful collection. I don’t suppose there’s +another like it in the world. Well, I saw this butterfly and followed +it for about a couple of miles. I had nothing with me except my +helmet, so I dipped my handkerchief in a stream and knotted it over my +head. The creature flew low and a dozen times I was within an ace of +catching it—and then my spectacles got misted somehow and I lost +sight of it altogether.” +</p> + +<p> +The D.O. nodded sympathetically. +</p> + +<p> +“Where was this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite near that bungalow you showed us in the trees.” +</p> + +<p> +“Moberly’s place!” +</p> + +<p> +“I think that was the name you told us. I was prompted to call and ask +if anything like it had been seen there before, but I remembered it +was lunch-time. The first human being I met was this Sikh—a +picturesque fellow with curling beard and an elaborate turban. He told +me his name was Gholam-Singh. He had witnessed my wild career after +the butterfly and knew exactly what I wanted.” +</p> + +<p> +His daughter smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“He must have thought you a priceless sort of lunatic! What a +ridiculous exhibition! An elderly gentleman, with a hanky knotted over +his head, chasing butterflies!” +</p> + +<p> +“In the heat of the day,” added the magistrate. “Rather a risky thing +to do, professor, with nothing to cover the nape of your neck.” +</p> + +<p> +Standen snorted. +</p> + +<p> +“Rubbish! I was in the shade of Mr. Moberly’s rubber trees most of the +time. Chasing butterflies is no more ridiculous in a native’s eye than +hitting a white ball into space—and calmly proceeding to walk after +it! I’m sorry I missed that fellow, though. Quite apart from my +promise to Baines, I became interested in it myself. It was a +butterfly—and yet it wasn’t, if you can understand me.” He stared +from one to the other. “A butterfly is an airy, dainty thing, but +this—although it was correctly formed—looked more like a piece of +raw meat furnished with legs and antennæ.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“But how disgusting!” +</p> + +<p> +The professor sat down somewhat heavily. +</p> + +<p> +“Disgusting, eh?—Well, in some respects, I suppose it was.” He shook +his head sadly. “Ten years ago, net or no net, I shouldn’t have muffed +a thing like that.” +</p> + +<p> +She indicated the implement which now reposed on the table. +</p> + +<p> +“And now perhaps you will tell us why you want that.” +</p> + +<p> +He drummed with his fingers on his knees. +</p> + +<p> +“To go after it again, of course. Butterflies breed quickly and where +there is one there should be others.” He glanced sharply at Armourer. +“Have you ever seen one?” +</p> + +<p> +The D.O. shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t remember ever noticing anything that answers to your +description; but then, you see, I’m not a naturalist.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you couldn’t miss a thing like that,” the other insisted, “nobody +could.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you are quite determined to get one of them before you leave +Borneo?” +</p> + +<p> +“Most certainly. I owe Baines a good many debts of gratitude.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer rubbed his hands together. +</p> + +<p> +“Then that settles it. There’s only one thing for it. You’ll have to +tell the people at Jesselton to send your <i>barang</i> up here, and give +me the pleasure of your company for another week at least. Miss +Standen, I am counting on you to be a sport and back me up.” +</p> + +<p> +A smooth-haired terrier with a patch over one eye raised itself on its +hind paws and thrust a nose confidingly between her fingers. +</p> + +<p> +“It certainly sounds very tempting,” she admitted. “Doesn’t it, +daddy?” +</p> + +<p> +The professor removed his glasses and wiped them. Presently he +replaced them and, clasping his hands behind his back, faced his host. +</p> + +<p> +“If there’s one thing in this world I endeavour to avoid, it’s +overstaying my welcome. Ever since we left the boat we’ve had nothing +but hospitality thrust upon us with both hands. Now, you wouldn’t +believe it, I know, Armourer, but in some respects I’m particularly +sensitive. I should hate to think I’d left an unpleasant impression +behind me in Borneo. To put it bluntly, I don’t want to be regarded as +a <i>sticker</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce looked at Armourer. +</p> + +<p> +“What he really means to say is that he knows jolly well we oughtn’t +to bother you any further and that our obvious duty is to get back to +Jesselton this afternoon, but he does so want to use that +butterfly-net!” +</p> + +<p> +“Good enough,” laughed the magistrate. “We’ll call that a bargain, +shall we, professor? You’ll stop here—both of you—until you get your +butterfly, and I’ll guarantee to have your kit fetched up here by +dinner-time this evening. Suppose we have some lunch?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a conspiracy,” declared the professor, and left it at that. +</p> + +<p> +At the conclusion of the meal Professor Standen retired to his room to +change his suit for one Armourer had lent him. +</p> + +<p> +Joyce stirred her coffee thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you really want us to stop, Mr. Armourer?” +</p> + +<p> +The D.O. looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“Rather!” +</p> + +<p> +“Honestly?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course. To tell you the truth, Miss Standen, I’m so grimly +determined to keep you here that I’m issuing instructions to the +natives to <i>swat</i> every red butterfly in the neighbourhood and so +dispose of their corpses that your father’ll never find ’em.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked down at the cloth. +</p> + +<p> +“That wouldn’t be very fair, would it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but it’d be frightfully effective.” +</p> + +<p> +“We couldn’t stay here for ever, you know. Father counted on being in +Borneo for a month and then going on to the Philippines. We’ve been +here more than a week already.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer filled his pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose it’s really rather selfish of me to try and keep you +anchored in one spot. You see, Miss Standen, when one is forced to +move in a restricted area one forgets that visitors, with a limited +number of days at their disposal, want to move around and see +everything there is to be seen. You’re pretty fed up with me, aren’t +you, for using the crimson butterfly as a lever to persuade your +father to stop?” +</p> + +<p> +The girl flushed. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no. I wanted him to stay. I hate just rushing about, getting +glimpses of hundreds of places. It reduces one to the level of the +ordinary tourist. Whenever I look back on this one real big adventure +of ours, I want to remember that I lived, for a while at least, +exactly as the people do who have to be here all their lives. I shall +always remember Jelandang and your thatched bungalow—and the dogs. I +shall never forget that ridiculous trolly accident, the glorious view +from the railway and your ride to Mrs. Battiscombe’s for clothes. I +must try and go over one day soon and thank her.” +</p> + +<p> +A shadow crossed Armourer’s face. There were some things he would +never forget either—that mad dance at Rembakut the night before, +those cursed lips of hers and the unexpected arrival of her husband. +Somehow or other, he didn’t want Joyce to meet Vera Battiscombe. It +would be like the meeting of something pure with something decidedly +impure. +</p> + +<p> +“I have every reason to be grateful for that trolly accident,” he +said. “It scarcely seems possible that it could only have happened +yesterday. Just fancy, we have only had one look at the bay together, +one walk up the slope and one sunset—and yet, to me at least, it +seems as if we have never been doing anything else. Twenty-four hours +ago I was feeling unutterably lonely. I was bored with myself, bored +with my job, fed to the teeth with everything——” +</p> + +<p> +Their eyes met. +</p> + +<p> +“Were you really? You poor thing! Then we were actually doing you a +good turn in coming to stay with you?” +</p> + +<p> +He pushed back his chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I should just think you were! I hadn’t seen a decent-looking white +woman for heaven knows how many months.” +</p> + +<p> +“Except Mrs. Battiscombe,” she retorted wickedly. “Oh, you can’t deny +she’s very beautiful and frightfully attractive. Anybody will tell you +that. Even I know it, and I’ve only been in Jesselton a week! And I +heard you ride back last night, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +He was staring at her awkwardly, endeavouring to frame some form of +defence, when a figure appeared suddenly at the doorway. It was +Vance—Moberly’s first assistant. +</p> + +<p> +“Sorry to butt in on you like this, Armourer, but rather a terrible +thing’s happened.” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate started. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the trouble?” +</p> + +<p> +Vance rubbed his chin and looked from Armourer to Joyce. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d better come outside and I’ll tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll come now. You’ll excuse me, Miss Standen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +He followed the other on to the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Moberly’s dead!” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s dead,” said Vance again. “Trevor found him just after lunch. He +was doubled up in his chair on the verandah. Trevor sent for me.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer glanced at his watch. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll ride over with you. Any idea of the cause?” +</p> + +<p> +Vance pursed up his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“He was poisoned, of course. There’s not the least doubt about that. +He’d gone a ghastly colour. It’s a queer business altogether. There +was a piece of paper between his fingers and an opened packet on the +table at his side.” He lowered his voice. “You know, of course, that +Mrs. Battiscombe used to run over there pretty frequently. Well, the +paper appeared to be a note from her and the packet contained some +brooches and things he’d given her.” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate picked up his hat. +</p> + +<p> +“She’d turned him down?” +</p> + +<p> +“It looks like it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you suggest he poisoned himself?” +</p> + +<p> +The planter frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what to think. There’s a horrible crimson mark right +across his left cheek, like a ghastly birth-mark, and shaped like a +butterfly.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch09"> +CHAPTER IX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Tragedy at Bukit-Serang</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">As</span> they rode up the slope towards Moberly’s bungalow a short dark +man came down the steps to meet them. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Armourer! Glad you’ve rolled up. Rotten business, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer had caught sight of the huddled form in the chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m frightfully sorry. Poor old Dick! Has the doctor been?” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I sent for him right away, but the messenger came back with the +information that he had run over to Kudat and was not expected back +before Tuesday. The estate apothecary has had a look at him. He says +it’s poison right enough. I’ve collared his cook-boy—he’s down in the +watchman’s quarters now. He’s been with Moberly a long time, and I +don’t suppose he had anything to do with it; but Vance thought it +better to be on the safe side.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good! You haven’t moved anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. Everything’s just as I found it.” +</p> + +<p> +They mounted the steps. +</p> + +<p> +It was some moments before Armourer approached the dead planter. He +stood with his hands in his pockets and an unpleasant, choking +sensation in his throat. Three fit, live men gazing at a fourth who +had passed out so quickly that it shocked them! Moberly had been so +active, so intensely masculine, that this sudden snapping of the +thread had knocked them completely off their balance. +</p> + +<p> +Vance was the first to break the silence. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s that mark I told you about,” he said huskily. +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate went forward. +</p> + +<p> +Controlling his nerves with an effort, he took the dead man’s +shoulders and pushed him gently from his huddled position until he lay +outstretched. Right across his left cheek, from the fringe of his hair +to the base of the jawbone, extended a vivid crimson rash where the +skin had come up in lumps, as if stung by a nettle. +</p> + +<p> +There was a letter between the fingers of the right hand, and from the +diminutive parcel on the table dangled the Butterfly pendant, +suspended from its chain of gold filigree. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer started. +</p> + +<p> +It was an unusual type of chain, peculiarly wrought, and it dawned +upon him that he had seen one exactly like it quite recently. Mrs. +Battiscombe! It came upon him in a flash. He remembered now that when +she had ignited her cigarette from the end of his cigar he had noticed +that she wore a chain—and that he had seen it again when they were +dancing. The letter poor Moberly held was from her. She had been +wearing the pendant when he left Battiscombe’s house—and here it was +on the planter’s table. There must have been an unholy row at Rembakut +during the past dozen hours or so. Battiscombe must have suspected +Moberly or—— He rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. +The only man who had any cause to quarrel with Moberly was James +Battiscombe. It was all very perplexing. +</p> + +<p> +He turned to Vance. +</p> + +<p> +“Anybody called here this morning?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re quite certain about this? How, for example, did this packet +get here?” +</p> + +<p> +“A black soldier brought it to the kitchen-quarters just before lunch. +I particularly asked the <i>boy</i> about that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Moberly was out all the morning,” added Trevor. “I met him over on +the far side at about eleven. He seemed unusually fit then.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer glanced at the packet again and a sudden thought struck him. +He withdrew the remaining few links of the chain and dangled the +pendant in front of Moberly’s left cheek. +</p> + +<p> +He looked back at the others. +</p> + +<p> +“Anything strike you?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Vance started. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, by Gad! It’s practically the same thing in miniature.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor bent forward excitedly. +</p> + +<p> +“A most extraordinary coincidence. It was the first thing I +noticed—the mark on the chief’s face and that weird ornament hanging +there. I had intended mentioning it to Vance, but in the excitement of +the moment I forgot. You don’t attach any importance to it, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate found an old envelope and tucked the ornament into it. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what to think,” he admitted, “but I’m going to take +charge of this until I’m satisfied it has no bearing on the cause of +Dick’s sudden death. It’s a confounded nuisance the doctor’s away.” +</p> + +<p> +“How about that black fellow?” suggested Vance. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer rubbed his chin. +</p> + +<p> +“Abu-Samar? Is he any good?” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“He says he is. After all, it’s hardly a doctor we want—except as a +matter of form. We know the chief’s dead and any fool can see he’s +been poisoned. I’m open to bet anybody that old Macnally when he comes +won’t be able to tell us if the poison was vegetable, animal, or +mineral.” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate snapped his fingers. +</p> + +<p> +“Lord! I must be daft! Here, Trevor, send somebody over to my place at +once and ask Professor Standen to come across. You can get your black +fellow too, if you like.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor shot down the steps and called to a tall Sikh who was coming up +the slope. +</p> + +<p> +“Gholam-Singh! Come here. I want you.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer gripped Vance’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +The sound of the watchman’s name brought him back to the professor’s +story of a chase after a red butterfly. +</p> + +<p> +“Vance, did you ever notice a large crimson butterfly anywhere around +here?” +</p> + +<p> +The other shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Never,” he answered firmly. +</p> + +<p> +“Nor did I, and yet Professor Standen—who happens to be my guest at +the moment—saw one here to-day and tried to catch it. He followed it +almost to this house. If he hadn’t been afraid of butting in on Dick’s +lunch-hour, he’d have called. What an extraordinary thing life is! A +less scrupulous man would have altered the entire aspect of the case. +Standen could have told us perhaps just how Moberly died; he might +even have prevented a catastrophe.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” protested Vance, sitting down heavily, “nobody’s ever heard of +a poisonous butterfly. Supposing there were such a thing in existence, +it’s difficult to imagine it would leave a mark like that.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer nodded gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“I know that,” he said; “but we can’t get away from facts. Moberly was +poisoned. He has a rash on his face shaped like a butterfly—and +Standen saw a strange insect fluttering in this neighbourhood just +about the time the ghastly tragedy occurred.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then there’s the brooch,” Vance reminded him. “Have you read Mrs. +Battiscombe’s note?” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +He possessed himself of the paper and scanned it hastily. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“Jim has come to his senses at last… we must put an end to +everything.… Keep everything you find here.… Some day I hope to… +explain. An awful scene last night; it made me dream.… Rotten, isn’t +it?” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Their eyes met. +</p> + +<p> +“It beats me,” said Vance. “Er—Armourer!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know exactly how you’re inclined to regard this business, but +I think we can safely leave Jimmie Battiscombe out of it. It’s +unfortunate there should have been a row between Mrs. Battiscombe and +himself over the chief, but, knowing Jimmie as we do, we can hardly +look upon him as a man likely to indulge in homicide—however +justifiable. Trevor hit the right nail on the head when he referred to +the presence of the butterfly ornament as a remarkable coincidence. It +couldn’t be anything else. Everybody liked Moberly. He had his +weaknesses, I admit, but he was a damn’ good fellow all the same. +Can’t we keep our mouths shut about that letter?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer was sucking at the stem of an empty pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said at length; “why not? If Standen is satisfied that Dick +died from the sting of an insect of some sort, I should be the last to +publish anything which would add to a scandal that’s already had too +much circulation.” +</p> + +<p> +Their hands gripped. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad you think that,” said Vance brokenly. +</p> + +<p> +His face dropped into his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s young Trevor gone?” asked Armourer presently. +</p> + +<p> +The planter withdrew his fingers and stared round him. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know. Gone to find Abu-Samar, I should imagine.” A sound broke +upon his ears and he sat perfectly still, listening. “What’s that?” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate had gone to the rail. +</p> + +<p> +“Somebody coming through the trees on horseback—riding like the +devil.” He caught Vance’s arm and pulled him up. “Here, quickly!” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know.” He threw open the first door he found and drew the +other through it. “Don’t utter a sound.” +</p> + +<p> +They stood in the shadow with the door ajar. +</p> + +<p> +Almost before Vance could collect himself, the rider had dismounted. +He heard a voice—a woman’s voice—calling. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick!—Dick!—Are you up there?” +</p> + +<p> +It was Vera Battiscombe. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer gripped the other’s arm warningly. +</p> + +<p> +She came slowly up the steps into view. +</p> + +<p> +They saw her stand for a moment, irresolute, between the still form in +the chair and the entrance. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, he’s asleep!” she murmured, and went forward as if to shake him. +</p> + +<p> +An almost irresistible desire swept over Vance to shout out something, +to do something to break the shock of the inevitable discovery. He +shuddered and gripped hard at the corner of a dressing-table to steady +himself. +</p> + +<p> +A piercing shriek sent his ears singing. +</p> + +<p> +A second—and she was backing towards the rail in horror, her +beautiful face a deathly white, her eyes wide open in terror. +</p> + +<p> +“It was true then! They have killed him! He told me——! <i>The Crimson +Butterfly!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Her hands clasped to her ears, she ran, panic-stricken, to the +stair-head. +</p> + +<p> +Vance was half-way through the door when Armourer caught him roughly +and threw him back. +</p> + +<p> +She turned suddenly, controlling her nerves with a stupendous effort, +and walked deliberately to the packet on the table. Her trembling +fingers tore at the paper, scattering the contents broadcast. +</p> + +<p> +“Gone!” she muttered hoarsely. “They have found it!” +</p> + +<p> +She reeled, one arm bent over her forehead, and fell heavily to the +floor. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch10"> +CHAPTER X.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Mystery Deepens</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">There</span> were four people in the garden when Armourer left the +bedroom—the Sikh, with Professor Standen, Trevor and Abu-Samar. +</p> + +<p> +He went out to meet them. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, professor! I’m afraid I’ve rather an unpleasant job for you.” +He turned to the black doctor. “Are you Abu-Samar?” +</p> + +<p> +Samar bowed. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you’d better go straight into that room where you see the door +open. You will find Mr. Vance there with an English lady who has +fainted. I want you to do all you can for her.” +</p> + +<p> +He waited until the other had gone up, then drew Standen into the +shade. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a dead man up there,” he began. “It’s Moberly—the planter +about whom I spoke to you yesterday. You remember your red butterfly? +Well, I fancy you have reason to be thankful that you didn’t catch it. +I believe it killed Dick Moberly.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor blinked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Killed Mr. Moberly!” he ejaculated. “Surely you’re not in earnest?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very much so, I’m afraid. If you hadn’t told me about that butterfly, +I shouldn’t have known what to think. But both the time when you saw +it and the peculiar mark on the poor chap’s face seem to point to the +fact that Moberly was stung by it and died from the poison it exuded.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a mark, eh? What sort of mark?” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate led the way to the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +“Come up and see for yourself. The doctor’s away and I’ve no +alternative than to place the matter entirely in your hands.” +</p> + +<p> +As the professor bent over the chair, Armourer swept the trinkets from +the table and passed them over to Trevor. The letter he had already +tucked away in a pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“That is Moberly’s property,” he said in a low voice; “you’d better +take charge of it and put it with the rest of his effects. If you miss +anything,” he added meaningly, “talk to Vance about it—afterwards.” +</p> + +<p> +The first assistant came out at that moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Battiscombe’s come round all right,” he announced, “but she +seems in a pretty bad way. We’d better get Jimmie over here.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer set his jaw firmly. +</p> + +<p> +“No. We’ll have her carried to my place and advise him from there. +Miss Standen can look after her and I’ll get the professor to certify +she’s too ill to be moved. There are one or two questions I want to +ask her as soon as she’s fit to answer them. Get some men and a +<i>pikul</i>, and, if you can spare him, I’d like Trevor to see her safely +over. You’re a medical man, of course, professor?” +</p> + +<p> +Standen glanced over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate repeated his question. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; I’m a doctor right enough.” +</p> + +<p> +He stripped off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and ripped open the +dead man’s tunic. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you what, Armourer, I’m not leaving Borneo until I have +secured a specimen of that particular type of insect. It’s most +providential I was on the spot when this occurred. We are undoubtedly +on the verge of a great discovery. A poisonous butterfly! People at +home would laugh at us, wouldn’t they? But a venomous, vindictive +insect, charged with poison-cells from wing-tip to wing-tip! It sounds +incredible, impossible—and yet we have undeniable evidence.” +</p> + +<p> +The little man was becoming quite excited, and with every fresh +exertion his face became a deeper red. His experienced fingers +travelled all over the corpse, now pressing a muscle, now lifting an +eye-lid. Peculiar little grunts escaped him at intervals, until in a +grim sort of way he reminded Armourer of one of his terriers out after +rats. Moberly, whom they had all known and liked, had, as far as the +professor was concerned, become an interesting subject. +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate could hardly have expected it to be otherwise, but it +struck him as a ghoulish sort of performance all the same. +</p> + +<p> +He saw Abu-Samar in the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, doctor, and how’s your patient?” +</p> + +<p> +“She is delirious,” he replied. “She keeps asking for a certain +article of jewellery which, it appears, she has lost. It might help +matters to give it her.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer looked hard at Trevor. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes!” he returned easily. “What sort of ornament, Dr. Samar?” +</p> + +<p> +“A ruby ornament on a gold chain—with emerald eyes,” said Samar +without turning a hair. “Have either of you gentlemen seen it?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Not I.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor I,” added Vance quickly. +</p> + +<p> +Trevor glanced from one to the other before replying. +</p> + +<p> +“A ruby ornament with emerald eyes! Good Lord, no. I haven’t got it.” +</p> + +<p> +He felt inordinately guilty as he spoke, but Samar did not appear to +notice. +</p> + +<p> +He looked at his watch. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going away now. I propose looking back this evening to see if +there is any improvement. She will be all right until then.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer smiled pleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t bother, Dr. Samar. Mr. Battiscombe will be over shortly +and I expect he will want to send for his own medical man. I’m afraid +I was responsible for troubling you in this case and you’d better +apply to me for your fee.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” interrupted the first assistant. “This is an estate +affair, and we’ll settle it.” +</p> + +<p> +“On second thoughts,” corrected Armourer, “it seems to me that it’s +outside Bukit-Serang altogether, and the person who’s primarily +responsible for his wife’s health is Mr. James Battiscombe. Good +afternoon, Dr. Samar. Thanks very much. You’ll send that <i>chit</i> to me, +won’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +They carried the planter between them to his own room, and Trevor +accompanied Mrs. Battiscombe to the magistrate’s bungalow. +</p> + +<p> +It was five o’clock when the three remaining Englishmen sat in +consultation round the table upon which the trinkets had once reposed. +</p> + +<p> +“Poisoned by some insect—the exact nature of which is unknown,” said +the professor suddenly, as if he had been turning the phrase over in +his mind for some time. +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“You would give a certificate to that effect?” +</p> + +<p> +Standen spread out his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Most certainly. What else could one say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, of course. I was only interested to learn how you would put +it.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer caught Vance’s eye. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s settled. I’m awfully obliged to you, professor. Vance, +old son, you can’t do any good moping about here. Come over and have +dinner with us. We’ll meet Trevor and make him join us.” +</p> + +<p> +The planter pressed a moist hand to his forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like the idea of leaving the place.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer dropped a hand on to his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“It’ll do you all the good in the world to get away from things. Stick +a couple of watchmen on guard outside.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said the other gloomily. “I’ll come.” +</p> + +<p> +They rode through the trees, the professor mounted on Mrs. +Battiscombe’s pony. They were within a quarter of a mile of Armourer’s +house when Standen wheeled round on the path. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” asked the magistrate. +</p> + +<p> +The professor frowned deeply. +</p> + +<p> +“If you young men will excuse me, I’ll go back and have another look +at Mr. Moberly. I don’t expect to be more than half an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll come with you,” suggested Vance. +</p> + +<p> +Standen shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just as you like, of course. You’d better explain to Gholam-Singh +that you have my permission to go in.” +</p> + +<p> +They were sitting on the verandah when the professor returned. +</p> + +<p> +Joyce had just come from her room, where Mrs. Battiscombe now lay, and +Trevor was talking to her. +</p> + +<p> +The professor beckoned to Vance. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you quite sure of your men?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +The planter started. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I suppose so. Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I feel convinced that somebody had been in Moberly’s room +between the time that we left and when I got back there. The body was +not in the same position, there was a peculiar pungent odour hanging +everywhere—and the mark on the face had entirely vanished!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch11"> +CHAPTER XI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Joyce Displays Curiosity</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Armourer</span> felt Joyce at his side. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m thirsting for information,” she explained softly. “Whenever I +approach father—he just glares at me and carries on a conversation +with somebody else. I’ve tried Mr. Trevor, but he only colours up and +looks uncomfortable—and Mr. Vance seems so utterly miserable that I +haven’t the heart to tackle him.” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate smiled down at her. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want to know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, heaps of things. Why Mr. Vance came for you in such a hurry after +tiffin; why you sent for daddy; why Mrs. Battiscombe fell ill so +suddenly—and why you all persist in indulging in whispered +conversations? Is somebody dead?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer started. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he felt bound to confess. “The planter who owned that nice +bungalow in the trees died this afternoon—very suddenly. There was no +doctor handy, so we sent for Professor Standen. Mrs. Battiscombe rode +over to see Mr. Moberly, and—well, the sudden news that he had pegged +out upset her.” +</p> + +<p> +“She fainted?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right.” +</p> + +<p> +“At Mr. Moberly’s house?” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, if you wanted to move her at all, why didn’t you send her to +her husband’s bungalow?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer glanced nervously over the rail at the group of men talking +together below. +</p> + +<p> +“Because, Miss Standen, this was a good deal nearer and there happened +to be another white woman here who could look after her. We’ve sent +for Mr. Battiscombe, but he happened to be out when our messenger +called. He’ll come over as soon as the news reaches him.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl appeared to be thinking deeply. +</p> + +<p> +“Is Mr. Battiscombe a nice man?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather; one of the best.” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s frightfully pretty, isn’t she?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“He won’t be angry when he learns that her illness was caused by the +news of Mr. Moberly’s death? She is dreadfully ill, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer was not feeling any too comfortable at that moment. He was +aware that Vera Battiscombe was in a high fever and a little afraid to +what extremes her delirium might carry her. Above all, he had no +desire for Joyce to glean from her ravings exactly what happened at +Rembakut on the previous evening. In his keenness to solve the mystery +of the Crimson Butterfly, he had forgotten until that moment that +Battiscombe had surprised them on the verandah and would be inclined +to regard the presence of Vera—ill and at Armourer’s house—with +suspicion. Battiscombe had been blind for so long that it was +difficult to make allowances for what he would think now that his eyes +were opened. +</p> + +<p> +“I expect we shall have to approach her husband very tactfully,” he +said, “and, in case we decide to frame some ingenious little story to +meet the emergency, you had better know nothing. She talks a good +deal, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“About anybody in particular?” +</p> + +<p> +She leaned back against the table. +</p> + +<p> +“She doesn’t talk sensibly, of course. Sometimes she rambles on for +minutes at a time; then there are long periods of silence, broken +perhaps by little incoherent remarks. I can only remember hearing +‘Dick’ and ‘Jim,’ and once she murmured something about a butterfly. I +nursed a man once who apparently saw the most beautiful butterflies in +his dreams. He used to tell me about them. He had been hit in the +head. Mrs. Battiscombe didn’t strike her head when she fell?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think so.” +</p> + +<p> +There ensued a long pause, at the end of which Joyce said: +</p> + +<p> +“I must go back to her now.” +</p> + +<p> +She was on the point of entering the room when the magistrate called +to her softly: +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Standen!” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to pay particular attention to anything further she says +about that butterfly. Make some sort of note of her remarks, if you +can.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled wistfully. +</p> + +<p> +“All right; I will. More secrets?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid so. I’ll tell you all about it one of these days.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned the handle and pushed open the door. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s been quite a day of butterflies, hasn’t it? Daddy chased a red +one for quite a while this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove!” ejaculated Armourer with well-simulated surprise. “So he +did!” +</p> + +<p> +He went down the steps and joined the others. +</p> + +<p> +The professor was leaning against a post; Vance, looking particularly +dejected, stood with his hands in his pockets a couple of yards away; +Trevor was sitting on the ground. +</p> + +<p> +It was the hour of sunset again—and so much had happened since Joyce +and Michael witnessed the last one together twenty-four hours ago! +Dick had been alive then, and Armourer had waved to him as he passed +his house on the way to the estate store for a tooth-brush. Vera +Battiscombe—who now lay, fragile and fever-racked, babbling +incoherencies—had been a desirable vampire-thing, woefully in +possession of all her faculties. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you still got that ornament on you?” demanded Trevor, as +Armourer came up. +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate felt in his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Professor Standen would like to have a look at it.” +</p> + +<p> +He passed the envelope to the professor, who withdrew the pendant and +held it to the light. +</p> + +<p> +He glanced presently from one to the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Astounding! And you say it was on the table when the poor chap died?” +</p> + +<p> +Vance nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“We are taking Standen into our confidence,” he explained to Armourer. +“It won’t go any further. You don’t mind, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not in the very least. It’s quite on the cards he may be able to help +us out.” He turned to the professor. “You’d better hear the whole of +the yarn, anyway. I went to Rembakut—that’s Battiscombe’s place—last +night, if you remember, to get some things for your daughter. +Battiscombe was out, and his wife, pleading loneliness, begged me to +stay with her until he returned. I didn’t see the Butterfly then, but +I clearly recollect noticing that chain round her neck. It next +appeared, with the pendant attached, on the table by Dick’s elbow this +afternoon. We all remarked on the coincidence, the similarity to the +mark on Dick’s face; but we could only regard it as a coincidence and +nothing else.” +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally. Well——?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then Mrs. Battiscombe rode over and something prompted me to drag +Vance into an adjoining room and watch what she did. I feel pretty +rotten about it now, because the discovery has proved more of a shock +to her system than I believed possible at the time. But there was that +letter to be considered, stating that she and Jim had had a row over +Moberly, and I wanted to prove conclusively that neither Jim nor she +knew anything about the tragedy. I was so keen on my job that I +actually jotted down what she said the moment she realised that Dick +was dead.” He glanced at the back of an envelope. “ ‘It was true +then! … They have killed him! … He told me.… The Crimson Butterfly!’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘They have killed him,’ ” repeated Standen. “You are quite sure she +said that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite. You heard it too, Vance.” +</p> + +<p> +The planter inclined his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite clearly.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor was still examining the pendant. +</p> + +<p> +“And then——?” +</p> + +<p> +“And then she began foraging among the various articles of jewellery +on the table, apparently searching for <i>that</i>. She couldn’t find it, +because I had it already—in my pocket. Her next remark was: ‘Gone! … +They have found it!’—and then she fell.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” put in Trevor, “the interesting fact remains that the chief was +stung by a butterfly—or some similar insect, because we all saw the +mark and the professor noticed a strange-looking creature in the +neighbourhood of the bungalow just before lunch. You can’t get away +from that.” +</p> + +<p> +“We all know that,” agreed Vance, “but what’s puzzling all of us at +the moment is who told Mrs. Battiscombe that Dick was going to be +killed. There’s another thing too: we’ve all of us been out East a +good spell and not one of us can remember having heard of a poisonous +butterfly—and yet she referred to <i>The Crimson Butterfly</i> as if she’d +known it all her life. I’m not inclined to be superstitious, and I +take any native yarn I hear with a pinch of salt, but I’ve got an idea +at the back of my skull that that damned ornament had everything to do +with Moberly’s death.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re getting morbid,” declared the second assistant. +</p> + +<p> +“Very likely—but I defy anyone to think deeply about an affair like +this without getting morbid. Look at the facts: Mrs. Battiscombe sent +that ornament to Dick, and about the first thing she did when she +found he was dead was to try and get it back. It wasn’t the tragedy +that knocked her out—it was the knowledge that somebody had found +that pendant. Isn’t that so, Armourer?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer sucked thoughtfully at his pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“It looks like it.” +</p> + +<p> +“If it were merely one of Dick’s presents to her, why should she want +it back? Who was the accomplice who, fearing that the resemblance +between the ornament and the mark would be noticed, slipped into +Moberly’s bungalow and employed some mysterious chemical preparation +to remove the mark?” +</p> + +<p> +In the weird half-light his long face looked more than usually sallow. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think,” he continued, levelling a finger at Armourer, +“that, in the light of recent developments, the butterfly Professor +Standen thought he saw is our one stumbling-block to the solution of +the mystery? Without that, it seems pretty clear sailing. Dick and +Mrs. Battiscombe were about a good deal together. It’s possible he may +have offended some vindictive native and that she heard him threaten +the chief. More likely still, Dick might have taken that ornament from +some obscure sanctuary to give to her. You know these queer religions. +The guardian of the shrine, or whatever you like to call him, could +have poisoned Dick, made that mark with some corrosive fluid and——” +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t work,” broke in the magistrate gravely. “You see, Vance, the +ornament was left behind. He would hardly have forgotten that.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor coughed. +</p> + +<p> +“And,” he insisted, “I didn’t merely <i>think</i> I saw a red butterfly. I +did visualise it—and gave a very sound description to Armourer when I +got back. Moreover, so anxious was I to make another attempt to catch +it, that I got your very excellent Gholam-Singh to make me a net; and +all this before anyone had heard that Mr. Moberly was dead. +Personally, I adhere to the opinion that that particular insect—a +four-winged monstrosity masquerading as a butterfly—was responsible +for the tragedy we are now discussing. With regard to the fresh +complications that have since arisen—I confess myself mystified. It +is within the bounds of possibility that these will be found to have +quite simple explanations as soon as Mrs. Battiscombe is well enough +to tell us about them. You know, Vance, the longer I live the less +anxious I am to jump to obvious conclusions. Whenever there are two +sides to a question, I like to probe both very thoroughly. I don’t +know the lady in question, of course. I’ve been on this island only a +matter of days. But I have it on excellent authority that Mrs. +Battiscombe was celebrated for her beauty, her easy-going +disposition—if one may call it so—and her quick-wittedness. She came +up the steps to Mr. Moberly’s verandah, saw the dead man and the scar +on his face, and uttered a perfectly natural exclamation—‘<i>The +Crimson Butterfly!</i>’ It was a crimson butterfly; it was shaped like +one and it was crimson in colour. At that point she remembered the +trinket and, recognising that its unfortunate resemblance to the mark +would be bound to attract notice, decided to conceal it. It came as a +shock to her to discover that the resemblance had been noticed and the +ornament removed. The other purely hysterical ejaculations I should be +disposed to wash out altogether. What does a delightful, butterfly +creature like Mrs. Battiscombe know about <i>killing</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +Darkness fell suddenly and they found their way one by one to the +verandah. +</p> + +<p> +Standen found himself next to Armourer. +</p> + +<p> +“How does that strike you?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate wrinkled his forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve listened attentively to both sides,” he announced. “I’m always +doing it; it’s my job!—I’ve nothing to find fault with in your +earnestness or your eloquence; but neither of your solutions is in the +least bit water-tight. What do you say to a drink?” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch12"> +CHAPTER XII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Colleagues Confer</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Armourer</span> had just emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a long +towel, when Trevor put his head round the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Battiscombe’s here.” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate sat down heavily on the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil he is!—That makes six to dinner!—I wonder how the grub’ll +spin out!” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor came right in and closed the door after him. +</p> + +<p> +“He hasn’t been home since lunch. Says he had an urgent message to +meet the Commissioner at Ketatan. We thought you’d better tell him +about Mrs. Battiscombe.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer rubbed a damp spot on his leg with a corner of the towel. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, all right. Send him in here—Oh, just a minute, Trevor. We might +as well let him down as lightly as we can. Tell Vance the yarn is that +Mrs. B. was picked up in the trees on your estate—better say <i>near</i> +your estate—and that you brought her here, as you’d heard there was +an English girl staying with me. I’ll fit in poor Dick’s affair as +best I can.” +</p> + +<p> +The assistant rubbed the back of his head. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s bound to find out in the long run.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s just possible he will; but we don’t want to risk his going off +the deep end at the moment. It won’t suit my purpose to have him +worrying about his wife and poor Dick. I want him to concentrate on +the Crimson Butterfly business.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right.” +</p> + +<p> +He was about to go in search of Battiscombe, when the huge form of the +magistrate from Rembakut filled the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, Trevor! You here, too? Quite a considerable gathering.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor laughed weakly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m just off to tell Armourer’s <i>boy</i> that there’ll be another to +<i>makan</i>. See you later.” +</p> + +<p> +The door closed. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer passed over the cigarette tin and indicated a chair with his +bare foot. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Jim! You think me a howling outsider, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe frowned and then laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’re thinking of last night! I thought quite a lot of things +then, but fortunately for everybody concerned I’ve reconsidered them. +We’ll forget that, if you don’t mind.” +</p> + +<p> +The younger man looked at his toes. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks. I was afraid you’d want me to explain—and there isn’t any +explanation. I was just a damn’ fool, that’s all there is to it.” He +struck a match and held it out to the other. “The awkward thing is +that Mrs. Battiscombe’s here now—ill.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” +</p> + +<p> +The match flickered out and Battiscombe stared round the room as if +expecting—in a world of fresh surprises—to find his wife secreted +somewhere within those four walls. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, old son. Trevor found her and brought her over. Miss Standen +happened to be staying here with her father, and she very kindly +consented to nurse her. We sent for you immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t been back. Is she bad?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just a touch of fever. I don’t think there’s the slightest cause for +alarm. Luckily we have a doctor in the house—Miss Standen’s +father—and he’ll pull her through all right. She mustn’t be moved +just yet.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe came slowly to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“She would ride out in the heat of the day,” he muttered. “I’d better +go and see her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shouldn’t, if I were you. It might upset her.” +</p> + +<p> +The other groaned. +</p> + +<p> +“She must have had it coming on last night. I found her walking in her +sleep. When d’you think I’ll be able to see her?” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll talk to Standen about that in a minute. All you’ve got to do is +to sit down quietly and try not to get rattled. After all, everybody +out here gets fever sooner or later.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe flopped down again and the chair creaked ominously beneath +his weight. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s Vance doing here?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was just going to tell you. Vance and I have been having a pretty +tough afternoon. Dick Moberly pegged out just about lunch-time.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe stared at him in blank amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“Pegged out!—Died, you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid so. Macnally was away at the time and Professor Standen +acted for him. It appears he was poisoned by some bug or other, +apparently while he was dozing in his chair after the morning’s work. +Standen’s an authority on poisons and I’m going to persuade the +Commissioner to get him to investigate the matter officially.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure it wasn’t snake-bite?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think so. It’s a most peculiar case. Everything seems to +point to his being stung by a thing that looked like a red butterfly, +but, as Standen puts it, was charged with poison-cells from wing-tip +to wing-tip. You’ve been out here longer than most of us. I was +wondering if you could help us.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Butterflies don’t sting,” he insisted. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s one of the queer points about it. Dick had a great crimson +patch right across one cheek—exactly like a butterfly.” +</p> + +<p> +“A native <i>ju-ju</i>,” suggested the other. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer flicked the ash from his cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +“Vance thinks that now; but <i>ju-ju</i>—or their Bornese +equivalent—belong to the realm of fairy-tales.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe moved awkwardly in his chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Afraid I really don’t know enough about ’em to express an opinion. A +fellow I knew once believed in ’em though—and he’d explored the +jungle from end to end. A queer, long chap named Russell. You won’t +remember him, I expect; he was a trifle before your time. So Dick’s +dead! Doesn’t seem possible, does it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. It’s a ghastly business, and it’s hit Vance pretty hard. He +thought no end of Dick. Er—this <i>ju-ju</i>, butterfly, or whatever you +like to call it, that caused the trouble was crimson—a crimson +butterfly. Does that help at all? Have you ever heard of a native +religion that employed one as its symbol?” +</p> + +<p> +He observed the other keenly. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe’s great head swung to and fro like a pendulum. +</p> + +<p> +“Never,” he declared, and then frowned heavily. “A crimson butterfly! +D’you mean a live butterfly—or something resembling one?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer grabbed up a pile of underclothes and began scrambling into +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Either.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never encountered any cult in which a butterfly bore the +slightest significance, but I saw a crimson butterfly on a chain last +night. Vera had it and, between ourselves, I made her send it back to +Dick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes? Dick gave it her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Apparently. It was a pretty thing, with emeralds for eyes. There was +something uncanny about it, now you remind me, and for some reason or +other I didn’t care about holding it too long.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where did he dig it up?” +</p> + +<p> +“In a bazaar in Colombo or Singapore. Vera didn’t appear certain about +it. By Jove, Michael! Dick would have got that this morning!” +</p> + +<p> +“He did,” said Armourer, his head coming out of the top of his vest at +that moment; “it was on his table when we discovered him. Queer, +wasn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hell!” remarked the larger man. “I don’t like the look of this. Do I +understand you to say that Dick had a mark on him like that +butterfly?” +</p> + +<p> +“We all noticed the resemblance.” +</p> + +<p> +“All! What d’you mean by all?” +</p> + +<p> +“Professor Standen, Vance and myself—and Trevor when he came along +after accompanying your wife here.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe got up and paced the room for some seconds, a performance +which seemed to stimulate his reasoning faculties. +</p> + +<p> +“Moberly dead—and Vera sick! Where did young Trevor pick her up?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer was brushing his hair vigorously and did not turn his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know exactly.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe caught his shoulders and forced him round. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not quite such a blithering idiot as you people persist in +imagining. Tell us the whole truth, Michael.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord, man! I’m telling you it as fast as I can.” +</p> + +<p> +The other held his head on one side and screwed up his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a conspiracy going on somewhere. I can smell it. Trevor +looked as guilty as a schoolboy caught stealing apples. Vance kept +hopping first on one foot and then on the other—and I couldn’t get an +ounce of sense out of him. You found Vera at Dick’s place, didn’t you? +She was just itching to ride over and explain exactly why she returned +those confounded trinkets. I’ll wager a thousand dollars with anybody +that she hopped into riding kit as soon as I’d left the house. I can +see through your little game, Michael, and I admire you all the more +for it. You didn’t want my feelings to be hurt. But they’ve been hurt +a good deal lately, and one more kick won’t make much odds.” A sudden +thought struck him. “She didn’t make a fool of herself and—and shoot +him?” +</p> + +<p> +For the first time Armourer laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing of that sort, old son. You can make your mind quite easy +about that.” He regarded his friend steadily. “The story of Dick’s +death was a true bill right enough. The mark was on his face and that +extraordinary pendant was on the table; but Mrs. Battiscombe didn’t +show up until Vance had fetched me. She fainted soon after the awful +truth dawned on her and she’s been pretty queer ever since. I’ve still +another kick for these poor old feelings of yours, Jim! She seemed to +know Dick was going to be killed and that the Crimson Butterfly would +have something to do with it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do, Jim. That’s the real reason why I told Trevor to bring her +here. I thought that, in her delirium, she might say something that +would give us a clue. Listen: Professor Standen saw the insect that +might have caused Dick’s death; he chased it almost up to his bungalow +this morning. It was a horrible-looking thing, as far as I could make +out. He described it rather graphically as a piece of raw meat that +had grown legs and antennæ.” +</p> + +<p> +“When was this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Somewhere between noon and lunch. The tragedy must have happened +shortly after.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe was tapping his thumb-nail on his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“Now that’s really extraordinary!” +</p> + +<p> +“What makes you say that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Hoon-Kit came to me with a yarn that Vera had been scared to +death by a huge red butterfly that flew on to the verandah and off +again. This would have been before your friend saw it, because I came +up from the court-house with my usual abnormal thirst at ten minutes +to twelve. Vera was in her room when Hoon-Kit trotted the beer along. +He murmured something to the effect that the <i>mem</i> was afraid of red +butterflies. It was such a fat-headed sort of remark to make that I +made him explain himself. What d’you make of <i>that</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s positively uncanny. It’s almost as if the butterfly and its +image were connected somehow. Nobody had ever seen the ornament before +except, perhaps, Mrs. Battiscombe. As far as we are concerned, it +first showed up at your place and then went, almost immediately after, +to Moberly’s. Bang on top of this comes the actual butterfly. It +floats in at Rembakut, following the trail of the pendant, and, +finding it gone, flies across to Dick’s house—and kills the person +found in possession of it. Sounds tolerably good nonsense, doesn’t it? +But that’s precisely how a superstitious person might be expected to +look at it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve a nasty mind, Michael!” declared Battiscombe, and his large +frame shuddered. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” persisted the other, “there is a lot more in this than meets +the eye. Leaving the pendant out of the question altogether, there’s +one great outstanding feature that raises the affair from one of +simple insect-bite. While we were on our way here, some person unknown +raided Dick’s bungalow and in some mysterious manner erased the mark +from his face. If we could discover who that was, we should be a deal +nearer the solution.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe shook himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Hurry up with your dressing, for the love of Mike! I’m beginning to +want a good stiff tot! Your harrowing narrative has almost made me +forget that you and I have got to arrest Mr. Abu-Samar. That’s why the +Commissioner was in such a blinking hurry to see me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Arrest Abu-Samar. Whatever for?” +</p> + +<p> +“For being an impostor, incendiary, and the Lord knows what. He’s +wanted in Sarawak, Sumatra, the Federated Malay States—and possibly +in Timbuctu! Wherever he goes he stirs up trouble—and trouble is the +last thing we want here.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer grinned. +</p> + +<p> +“As far as I can see, we’ve quite enough to go on with, as it is. +Arrest Abu-Samar, eh? That’s about the last thing I expected.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I kicked him out of the court-house yesterday for suggesting I +should put him up for membership of the club! If I’d known then what I +do now—it’d have saved an ocean of trouble!” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer whistled. +</p> + +<p> +“You kicked Abu-Samar, did you? Well, Jim, all I can say is—you must +have had intense provocation!” +</p> + +<p> +“I did,” returned Battiscombe. “Now, what about that drink?” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch13"> +CHAPTER XIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A Nocturnal Expedition</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Professor Standen</span> came out of Mrs. Battiscombe’s room, closing the +door after him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” inquired her husband anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +The professor looked down at his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“I think she’s nice and comfortable now. Her temperature’s not normal +yet; but there’s been an appreciable drop since this afternoon. I’m +hoping she’ll sleep till the morning. Armourer’s very kindly given up +his own bed to my daughter and had it fixed up in the room. Joyce has +had a good deal of nursing experience—and there’s nothing for you to +worry about at all.” +</p> + +<p> +He rubbed his hands together. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, what about this expedition?” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe indicated Armourer. +</p> + +<p> +“Better consult the magistrate in whose area we now are. He’s in +charge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no,” protested his colleague. “<i>Seniores priores</i>—and all that +sort of thing, you know. I cheerfully waive all territorial rights in +favour of seniority—and weight!” +</p> + +<p> +“That be hanged for a tale! The Commissioner said——” +</p> + +<p> +“Damn the Commissioner!” remarked Armourer cheerfully. “Abu-Samar’s +your bird—not mine. My men—and my own valuable assistance—are +entirely at your disposal. Professor Standen would like to join us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good enough! How about you, Vance? Any stomach for nocturnal +adventuring?” +</p> + +<p> +The first assistant, who had been staring gloomily into the night, +shifted his position on the rail. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’ll come. I’m not in a mood for standing about and doing +nothing. Trevor’d better stop with Miss Standen. One of us must be +here, in any case.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe began searching for his hat. +</p> + +<p> +“Then that’s settled. We’ll push off now and get it off our chests. +Anybody seen my topee?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t have lost it, Jim. It’s the biggest thing in hats ever +made!” +</p> + +<p> +The other dived behind a table and presently drew himself to his full +height, a smile of triumph illuminating his features. +</p> + +<p> +By way of reply, he dropped it unconcernedly over Armourer’s head, +thereby extinguishing his fellow-magistrate completely. +</p> + +<p> +They filed out into the clearing. +</p> + +<p> +“How far have we got to go?” demanded Vance. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe reflected. +</p> + +<p> +“About two and a half miles. I suggest we walk it. What do you say, +professor?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m game.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you others are agreeable? My corporal knows the way and, as +far as I can gather, the track’s badly overgrown.” +</p> + +<p> +Vance looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t anticipate any trouble?” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“There ought not to be any bother at all. I don’t fancy he’s been here +long enough to have any native backing. You’re all armed, I imagine?” +</p> + +<p> +Standen patted a side-pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“I am for one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Armourer’s lent me a gun,” added the first assistant. “Mine’s over on +the estate.” +</p> + +<p> +A shadowy form appeared round the corner of the house, carrying a lamp +and followed by three or four others. +</p> + +<p> +Joyce looked over the rail. +</p> + +<p> +“Look after daddy, Mr. Armourer, won’t you? He’s inclined to be +reckless!” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” he called back. “We’ll impose any form of restraint we +think necessary.” +</p> + +<p> +The procession moved off. +</p> + +<p> +There was a stiff breeze blowing from the sea and the night air was +pleasantly cool. The inimitable Kuraman—short and thickset—went on +ahead with the lamp; Battiscombe and Armourer came next, while Vance +followed with the professor. A short distance behind, three of +Armourer’s men and two of his colleagues tumbled along with their +rifles slung, smoking and chattering in an undertone. +</p> + +<p> +The path led them westward, turning presently south in the direction +of the Ayer River. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe tripped over a root, swore and regained his balance. +</p> + +<p> +“Hope Vera’ll be better in the morning,” he said suddenly. “Thank +heaven she’s as strong as a horse. Have you got that Butterfly affair +with you?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer started and began searching all his pockets in turn. +</p> + +<p> +“Damn!” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe I’ve left it in my other clothes. I suppose it’ll be all +right?” +</p> + +<p> +He peered through the gloom at his companion. +</p> + +<p> +“Is your servant honest?” +</p> + +<p> +“As honest as most. The chances are he won’t have finished cleaning up +in the kitchen by the time we get back. In which case he won’t have +been in my room. Appear to have left my pipe too. Give me a cigarette, +will you!” +</p> + +<p> +“You can have a cigar, if you prefer it.” +</p> + +<p> +He held out his case and Armourer lit up. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe looked back at the others, but found they were already +smoking. +</p> + +<p> +He glanced thoughtfully at the overhanging trees. +</p> + +<p> +“About another ten minutes of this and we ought to be in the open for +a spell. Hope we don’t strike any leeches. I hate ’em.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me about Abu-Samar,” said Armourer. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve met him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes.” +</p> + +<p> +He was going to add that he had sent him in to attend Vera that +afternoon, but wisely refrained. +</p> + +<p> +“Unpleasant looking chap, isn’t he?—I took a rooted dislike to him +from the very first. I didn’t like his eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are queer,” admitted Armourer. +</p> + +<p> +“As far as my information goes, he’s no earthly right to any of the +letters he sticks after his name. He began life somewhere about here +as a sort of medicine-man and made such a good thing at it that he +saved enough money to get him to Ceylon. There he took to +snake-charming and eventually got in tow with a native conjurer, who +produced the usual programme of hypnotic illusions. This feller +disappeared after a while and the mystery of his disappearance has +never been satisfactorily cleared up. Anyhow, Samar took over his +stock-in-trade and blossomed forth into a fully-fledged magician on +his own account. There’s a gap in the records extending over about +three years, when Abu crops up again in Anam. He seems to have dropped +hypnotism and gone in extensively for drugs. It appears that in this +instance he employed forged certificates to endeavour to obtain a job +in the French colonial service as an apothecary. The forgery was +detected and Abu-Samar sent to gaol for a long term. He escaped, +however, and the three principal officials responsible for his +detection and imprisonment died in a mysterious manner at about the +same time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poison, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is the general belief, but no trace of any poison was discovered +at the post-mortem. It is assumed that either a peculiar, +self-effacing drug was used, or that—and what I imagine is more +likely—the physicians who officiated weren’t particularly smart at +their job. How Abu left Anam nobody knows. He appeared a little later +in Singapore, stirred up native trouble there, skipped by the skin of +his teeth to Dutch territory—Sumatra, organised a band of freebooters +that fairly terrorised the island—and, finding the place too warm for +him, decided to transfer his attentions to Sarawak. Then he came +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you unearth all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Commissioner gave me a whole screed; it runs into about ten +pages. I’ll let you have a copy. It’s worth framing!” +</p> + +<p> +There followed a long silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Jim,” said Armourer suddenly, “your wife has never met Abu?” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord, no—never. Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know. I was only thinking. The bridge is just in front of us. +We’d better put out all lights.” +</p> + +<p> +He signalled back to the other two; while Battiscombe went forward to +Corporal Kuraman. +</p> + +<p> +They took the track Vera had followed the day before. +</p> + +<p> +It was the professor who noticed it first. +</p> + +<p> +“Vance, you didn’t put your pipe in your pocket while it was still +alight?” +</p> + +<p> +The planter dived in a hand and produced it. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he returned; “not guilty!” He sniffed. “There is a smell of +burning somewhere, though, isn’t there?” +</p> + +<p> +“I certainly thought so. There!—Do you see that light through the +trees?—Ah! it’s gone again. No, there it is!” +</p> + +<p> +Vance whistled softly and the two district officers halted. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s up?” demanded Battiscombe. “Anyone hurt?” +</p> + +<p> +“The professor has just noticed a fire of some sort or other right +ahead of us. No, not where you’re looking; further to the left. There! +Got it?” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe called Kuraman. +</p> + +<p> +“Kuraman, what’s that light?” +</p> + +<p> +The brown corporal shifted his round hat to the back of his head and +stared in the direction his master was pointing. After a few seconds +he sidestepped into the trees and looked again. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the house of Abu-Samar, <i>Tuan</i>,” he announced presently. “I +think it is burning.” +</p> + +<p> +Their faces were close together now and each looked at his immediate +neighbour for enlightenment. +</p> + +<p> +“Better get there at the double,” said Armourer; “he’s got wind of +this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t believe it,” asserted Battiscombe. “The Commissioner arranged +it off his own bat—and not a soul knew of it, barring myself. Kuraman +may be mistaken. Perhaps it’s a fire just this side of the place.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll soon see,” said Vance, and strode off into the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +At the bend in the path they broke into a sharp trot. As the trees +thinned out, the truth of the corporal’s statement revealed itself. +Driven low by the breeze, columns of smoke swept over them, setting +them coughing. Between the gusts, they caught glimpses of a blazing +inferno, where reed wall and sago roof were enveloped in a sea of +flame that soared roaring to the skies. +</p> + +<p> +“Spread out,” shouted Battiscombe at the top of his voice. “Vance, you +nip round to the right and take a couple of men with you; professor, +d’you mind being responsible for the left? You can have Kuraman and +one other. That leaves one each for us, Michael. I want you to get on +the far side. Stop anybody you find. If there’s any serious difficulty +or you see Samar, fire a couple of rounds in the air and we’ll +concentrate on that spot.” +</p> + +<p> +“I fancy we’re too late,” said Armourer between his teeth—and +selected his man. “Cheerio, everybody!” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, as they stole to their posts through smoke that enveloped +them like a choking fog, two shots rang out. +</p> + +<p> +The professor, his eyes streaming, charged into Armourer. Both sat +down heavily. +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate was on his feet in an instant. +</p> + +<p> +“Who the devil was that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Me,” responded the professor blandly. “Don’t do anything rash. I’ve +lost my fellows already in the confounded smoke. Give me a hand.” +</p> + +<p> +The other groped for his arm and pulled him up. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you fire?” asked Standen. +</p> + +<p> +“No. I fancy it was Battiscombe. It seemed to come from that +direction. Come on!” +</p> + +<p> +The pall shifted, and at that moment every object in the tiny clearing +stood out as in the light of day. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe was standing quite close to the house, with his man a bare +yard behind him. Vance had just appeared from the trees. A figure, +that had lain hidden behind a fallen portion of the structure, started +suddenly to its feet and—in that fleeting second—Armourer recognised +Abu-Samar. He carried a large basket, held together by a strap, and a +portion of it appeared to be smouldering. He drew himself very erect +and stood, immobile as an ebony statue, against a background of living +flame. An arm shot upward as if in splendid defiance—and the smoke +descended again, blotting out everything. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe fired again—three rounds in quick succession—and +Kuraman, dropping to one knee, emptied his magazine into the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +There followed a wild, chaotic stampede, a pause for breath in the +immediate vicinity of the furnace—and a scattered sortie into the +night-shrouded forest. +</p> + +<p> +An hour or so later they collected round Kuraman’s lamp. +</p> + +<p> +“That fellow bears a charmed life,” declared Battiscombe, gasping for +breath. +</p> + +<p> +“A very amusing evening,” conceded Vance; “but, from your point of +view, a decided washout.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer counted the shadowy figures that constituted the group +carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“One missing,” he declared. “Who is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“The professor,” said the planter again. “I saw him a minute ago, +grubbing at something in the ruins.” +</p> + +<p> +Standen joined them at that moment. His face, when they could get a +glimpse at it, was blacker than Kuraman’s, and he smiled the engaging +smile of a self-satisfied nigger minstrel. +</p> + +<p> +He thrust a charred bundle up to Armourer’s nose. +</p> + +<p> +“Smell that!” +</p> + +<p> +The D.O. sniffed. +</p> + +<p> +“Unpleasant,” was his immediate verdict,—“very!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” announced Standen, depositing it on the ground and feeling for +his handkerchief, “that’s precisely the same smell as I noticed in +Moberly’s room this afternoon when I went back. This is the basket +Abu-Samar was trying to take with him. There was a good deal of blood +on it when I picked it up and it had been badly trampled. It looks as +if one of you fired pretty accurately. The basket contained a jumbled +mass of crushed glass receptacles and—this.” +</p> + +<p> +He bent over the charred mess and presently extracted from its +shapeless interior something wrapped in a piece of sacking. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring the lamp closer,” shouted Battiscombe. +</p> + +<p> +A moment later they stood in a ragged circle, staring down at an +enormous chrysalis. The professor touched it with his spectacle +case—and the thing moved. +</p> + +<p> +“You see—it’s alive.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” muttered Vance, “it’s alive all right, but——” +</p> + +<p> +Standen surveyed them all in turn. +</p> + +<p> +“I have every reason to believe, gentlemen,” he declared, as if +delivering a lecture to a crowd of interested students, “that this is +our friend the crimson butterfly—in embryo!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch14"> +CHAPTER XIV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">At Vance’s Place</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Vance’s</span> bungalow being the nearest, the party repaired there for a +clean-up. +</p> + +<p> +The planter was reaching down the decanter when Armourer spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“What made you ferret out that basket, professor?” +</p> + +<p> +Standen, who had been carrying the bundle with him all over the house, +as if chary of trusting it with anybody, raised his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I happen to be blessed with a peculiarly keen sense of smell,” he +declared. “When that black fellow passed me this afternoon, I caught a +faint suggestion of something sickly and unpleasant. I did not pay +serious attention to it at the time, but a recurrence of apparently +the same odour in Moberly’s bedroom set me thinking. It would hardly +be true to say that I suspected Abu-Samar from that moment, but there +was just a shadowy notion at the back of my mind that he might in some +way be connected with the mystery. He seemed peculiarly anxious, if +you remember, to obtain possession of the butterfly ornament about +which he said Mrs. Battiscombe was raving.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe started. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” he demanded sharply. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer flushed. +</p> + +<p> +“You must recollect, Jim, that we all imagined Abu-Samar was genuinely +a doctor. Macnally was away. Standen was at my place. We had a dead +man and a sick woman and a devil of a mystery confronting us. Trevor +suggested Samar. In the end we sent for both of them—and Samar +attended Mrs. Battiscombe.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean to tell me you sent that man in to my wife—<i>alone</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” jerked out Vance. “I was there too—trying to bring her round.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were there all the time?” +</p> + +<p> +The planter looked at the ceiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Most of it. I certainly came out for a bit to tell the others how she +was; but I was never far away from the door.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe bit his thumb. +</p> + +<p> +“Go on, professor. Tell us a little more about your line of +reasoning.” +</p> + +<p> +Standen adjusted his spectacles. +</p> + +<p> +“Samar was the only person outside the charmed circle who knew Mr. +Moberly was dead, the only one of whom we knew. There might have been +others whom we didn’t know, but I was not prepared to take that into +account. You see, I couldn’t take my mind from that smell. Then we +embarked upon our little expedition. Abu-Samar, surprised by the +swiftness of our approach and fully aware that the odds were against +him, emerged from the burning building clinging desperately to that +basket. I judged it to be of vital importance to him, or he would have +relinquished it in his flight. Anxious to put my theory to the test, I +concentrated on the basket. It had been discarded almost immediately +after we all saw it and a heavy beam had fallen right across it, so +that I had great difficulty in extricating it. I found traces of there +having been other chrysalids—or <i>pupæ</i>, each apparently enclosed in +little bamboo cages, which were unfortunately crushed beyond +recognition. How this particular specimen managed to survive I am +unable to explain. I discovered it fully a yard from the basket +itself, and my attention was called to it by its writhing, spasmodic +movement. I hadn’t even been looking for a chrysalis; but it was +merely a matter of seconds before I had realised the possible +importance of my discovery.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe stared at him aghast. +</p> + +<p> +“But you don’t suggest he breeds the damn’ things?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t suggest anything. Chrysalids vary considerably in their +duration of quiescence, and we may have to be patient for quite a long +while before the actual butterfly breaks through its shell. If indeed +it does prove to be the Crimson Butterfly, we shall be faced with +another problem. We shall have to consider how it is that Abu-Samar +happens to be the sole possessor of specimens of this sort.” +</p> + +<p> +Vance rested his elbows on the table. Now that the excitement of the +chase had worn off, he was once more a victim of acute depression. +</p> + +<p> +“And the pendant?” he asked. “How do you fit that in?” +</p> + +<p> +The professor shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“I must frankly confess that this particular point baffles me +completely. You must not yet lose sight of the fact that the presence +of the ornament on Moberly’s table may be sheer coincidence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not losing sight of one thing: that Abu-Samar killed Dick +Moberly—and if ever he falls into my hands I pity him!” +</p> + +<p> +Standen shook his head slowly from side to side. +</p> + +<p> +“At the present stage, everything is conjecture. If, for example, a +perfectly harmless insect emerges from this <i>pupa</i>—the whole +structure upon which my theory is based falls to the ground. If indeed +Samar poisoned Moberly, can anybody suggest a motive?” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe smiled grimly. +</p> + +<p> +“If he’d poisoned <i>me</i>, it’d be far more easily understood. I kicked +him out of my place yesterday—literally, I mean, and he went off +swearing blue murder.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m wondering,” said Armourer, “if he meant to kill Dick at all.” +</p> + +<p> +All eyes turned in his direction. +</p> + +<p> +“What d’you mean?” asked Vance. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a bit and I’ll tell you. Did Dick know Samar?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—a bit.” +</p> + +<p> +“To what extent?” +</p> + +<p> +“He used to drop in at the chief’s place sometimes, principally, I +imagine, to try and persuade him to employ him for the coolies.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which, of course, Dick declined to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but,” Vance added hastily, “there was never any row about it. +The chief could be very diplomatic when he chose. He explained that he +was the manager only and had to take his instructions from London. He +also pointed out, I believe, that Macnally was the official doctor and +would naturally resent any such appointment, even if it were in Dick’s +power to make it.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer shot a side glance at his colleague. +</p> + +<p> +“I may have to ask a couple of questions about Mrs. Battiscombe. Do +you mind?” +</p> + +<p> +A look of pain crossed Battiscombe’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“All right. Carry on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was Mrs. Battiscombe ever at Dick’s place when any of these +interviews took place?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not unlikely. She was there fairly often.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t say for certain?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate drummed on the table with his fingers. +</p> + +<p> +“About that pendant. You’ve never set eyes on it before yesterday, +Jim?” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Never; but you mustn’t lay too much stress on that, because Vera +tells me I never notice anything!” +</p> + +<p> +“A common feminine delusion with regard to their male associates,” +murmured the professor. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m wondering,” pursued Armourer, “whether it could be possible that +Samar, wanting to get a dig in at Battiscombe, gave the pendant to +Moberly, knowing that he would send it to Mrs. Battiscombe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Meaning the intended victim to be <i>me</i>,” chimed in his senior. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I was trying to get at. You see, professor, I’ve learnt +this evening that Abu-Samar has been suspected of poisoning a good +many people, and always, it appears, in a distinctly mysterious +manner. Battiscombe can give you the details in full, if you want +them. I don’t know how you scientists regard Oriental magic, but we +just ordinary folk cling fondly to the notion that there’s possibly +something in it. Probably we’re wrong, but there remains just a +sporting chance that we’re not. Abu-Samar is well versed in all these +spectacular tricks in which hypnotism plays a very important part. It +sounds pretty feeble, I admit, but it looks as if the actual butterfly +<i>followed</i> that image!” +</p> + +<p> +Vance passed a hand across his forehead and yawned. +</p> + +<p> +“How?” he inquired wearily. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask me another!—We’ve had to swallow a good deal during the past few +hours, so much in fact that we ought to be in a mood to tackle almost +any possibility.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe pushed himself out of his chair. +</p> + +<p> +“We’d better be getting back. Michael, you seem destined to occupy one +of your long chairs to-night; I’d better curl up in another. A great +deal hangs on what Vera has to tell us to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor blinked. +</p> + +<p> +“If your suggestion is in any way correct,” he remarked, “the next +victim—provided there is to be a next—should be yourself. You’ve +still got that Butterfly, haven’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Many thanks for your cheery suggestion, professor! As a matter of +fact, I happen to have left it at home.” +</p> + +<p> +Standen emptied his glass. +</p> + +<p> +He jerked himself suddenly as if to shift a heavy weight from his +mind. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all the purest nonsense imaginable,” he asserted testily, “and I +must be in my dotage to have allowed you even to harbour such a +ridiculous notion; <i>but</i> I shall feel a great deal easier in mind when +we get back.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope everything’s all right,” said the planter gloomily, with an +inflection that suggested that everything might not be. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be a damn’ fool!” said the professor, and stamped his way down +into the garden. “Good-night, Mr. Vance,” he called back more +pleasantly. “I didn’t want to be rude, but you echoed something I was +imbecile enough to think myself!—Good night!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch15"> +CHAPTER XV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A Second Victim</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Arnold Trevor</span>—left to his own devices at Jelandang—remained +leaning over the verandah-rail, staring at that black patch in the +trees through which his companions had vanished. +</p> + +<p> +He who had played an important rôle in the first and second acts of +the drama at Bukit-Serang had been dropped out of the third act +altogether—and he was feeling pretty miserable about it. One of the +least pleasant points of his character—and one which Moberly had +tried vainly to eradicate—was a brooding sense of injustice, and as +he gazed now into the blackness that sense came uppermost. +</p> + +<p> +After all, he argued to himself, it was he who had discovered the body +of the dead planter, noticed the similarity between the mark on +Moberly’s face and the pendant, and accompanied Mrs. Battiscombe to +Armourer’s house. And now, just because he came next below Vance on +the estate pay-roll, he was expected to knuckle under and remain as a +sort of moral support to a couple of women! Vance, who had done +comparatively nothing, was pandered to by everybody. Because he was +gloomy and depressed they had taken him out to dinner and included him +in the expedition against Abu-Samar; though for the life of him Trevor +could not see what Vance had to be gloomy about at all. Moberly was +dead. From a purely sentimental point of view, it was a rotten +business; but, looking facts in the face, it was an extraordinarily +good thing for Vance. He would be manager now, with a substantial +increase in salary and sundry fat bonuses tacked on to it, while +he—Trevor—was by no means certain of being promoted to first +assistant. He had seen fellows skipped over before. +</p> + +<p> +He dropped his last cigarette-end into space and turned in search of +one from Armourer’s store. +</p> + +<p> +There was a table under the swinging oil-lamp, and on it, arranged +there by the magistrate’s servant, all the after-dinner comforts the +bungalow could offer. In the immediate vicinity, piled with faded +cushions, reposed a long cane chair, and curled up at ease on the +cushions were Armourer’s two terriers. +</p> + +<p> +Trevor stood for some moments, looking down at them, and gradually the +frown vanished from his forehead. Even the dogs appeared to realise +that he was only second assistant at Bukit-Serang and therefore didn’t +count for much! In spite of himself, he laughed aloud. He was still +smiling when Joyce came from her room. +</p> + +<p> +“I was so sorry to have to leave you all alone,” she said, “but my +patient was restless. She seems quieter now. Why don’t you sit down?” +</p> + +<p> +He pointed to the chair. +</p> + +<p> +“They won’t let me!” +</p> + +<p> +She ran past him and fell on her knees. +</p> + +<p> +“The darlings! Aren’t they just adorable!—And you hadn’t the heart to +turn them out?” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“They looked so jolly comfortable. What’s he call them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mac and Mick,” returned Joyce promptly. “The one that’s looking out +of the corners of his eyes is Mick. He knows he oughtn’t to be there.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor rested his hands on his hips. +</p> + +<p> +“What are we going to do about it?” +</p> + +<p> +She glanced to the far end of the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +“There are other chairs, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +He fetched a couple and arranged on one of them all the cushions that +were not in actual occupation. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I want all these,” said Joyce. +</p> + +<p> +The man laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m sure I don’t. D’you mind if I have a whisky?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not in the least.” +</p> + +<p> +She noticed the condition of the decanter. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean to tell me this is your first?” +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t that rather remarkable.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is; but I was feeling fed to the teeth and didn’t notice it was +there.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce sat down. +</p> + +<p> +“I knew there must be some explanation,” she declared. +</p> + +<p> +He passed over the tin. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you smoke?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes; but I won’t have one now, thank you. I wonder when they’ll +be back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven only knows. If they find their quarry at home they might be +here any time now; if they have to go and look for him they may be +hours. I don’t know what to make of this Samar business. He seemed +harmless enough in all conscience; but I suppose Battiscombe knows +what he’s doing.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce was stroking Mick’s ear. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s been an exciting day.” +</p> + +<p> +“It has. That confounded butterfly appears to have been responsible +for an entire upheaval of everything. I suppose we <i>shall</i> settle down +into a normal way of living again! D’you know, I just loathed being +left behind here.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a compliment to me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I didn’t mean it in that way. Besides, you were occupied with +Mrs. Battiscombe and it looked as if I should have to muck about out +here alone. I felt as if somebody had taken me to the top of a big +hill, and then deliberately pushed me over. There were all sorts of +queer things in the air and I had to be content with disconnected +fragments of news and half-baked theories. But until they dumped me +here I <i>was</i> in the picture. Now the fun’s all shifted to Abu’s +place—and I’m bang out of it.” +</p> + +<p> +She picked up the nearest terrier bodily and dropped it into her lap. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see that you’ve anything to grumble about,” she retorted. “I +like adventure too—and I’m left to tend the sick and wounded! You’ve +had half-truths told you—while I know nothing. Mr. Trevor, would you +be guilty of a very serious indiscretion if you told Mickie and me +about the butterfly?” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor grinned. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell Mickie after you’ve turned in for the night, and he can use +his own doggy discretion as to how much he divulges in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +She pouted. +</p> + +<p> +“Meaning that you don’t think I can keep a secret.” +</p> + +<p> +He sat down. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that there’s very much to be secret about. How much do +you know already?” +</p> + +<p> +She uttered a deep sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“I know that daddy chased a big red butterfly across Mr. Moberly’s +estate this morning——” +</p> + +<p> +“Anything else?” +</p> + +<p> +“And that Mr. Moberly’s dead and that Mr. Armourer is anxious to learn +what Mrs. Battiscombe may say in her delirium about butterflies——” +</p> + +<p> +“Has she said anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing very important. Sometimes she feels her throat and murmurs +something about a crimson butterfly. Once she caught my hand while I +was bending over her and held it hard. I had had fever patients before +and so the look in her eyes didn’t startle me. ‘I am a goddess,’ she +said—‘and my kiss is death!’ The poor dear hadn’t the least notion +what she was talking about.” +</p> + +<p> +He stared at her so hard that she felt embarrassed. +</p> + +<p> +“You are sure she said that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes. Mr. Armourer asked me to put down everything in writing—and +I did.” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Her kiss was death, all right!” he muttered. “Lord! I wonder how much +she really knows!” +</p> + +<p> +A hand fell on his sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Trevor, you are not suggesting that she had anything to do with +Mr. Moberly’s death?” +</p> + +<p> +He moved uncomfortably. +</p> + +<p> +Joyce Standen was a singularly attractive woman, and he found it +difficult to refuse her the information she sought. It occurred to him +that if Armourer had wanted her to know he would have told her +himself. Perhaps, he decided, it would be better to wait until he had +seen either the magistrate or Vance. The thought of these two men +brought back the old grievance. They hadn’t troubled to consider +him—either of them. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here,” he announced presently, “I’ll tell you as much as there +is to tell, but you must promise not to breathe a word of it to +anybody. The butterfly your father saw wasn’t a proper butterfly. It +was a poisonous bug of some sort and it killed Moberly. It left a mark +on him—as if the creature was all sting, like a jelly-fish. Mrs. +Battiscombe had been a great friend of Dick Moberly’s and had sent him +back a ruby ornament on a chain. We found this ornament near Dick when +he died. It was a butterfly and was shaped so like the mark on +Moberly’s face that it did set us wondering. Mrs. Battiscombe rode +over, saw the mark on his cheek, murmured something about a crimson +butterfly and fainted. Ever since then a lot of idiots in a much +clearer state of mind than Mrs. Battiscombe have been babbling +nonsense about butterflies and native charms and heaven knows what. +It’s getting quite a disease—like malaria; just when you think you’ve +cured yourself of it—it crops up again. When you appeared just now +I’d decided once and for all that the <i>ju-ju</i> business was bunkum; and +then you set the old idea working again by mentioning Mrs. +Battiscombe’s remark about goddesses and death. It is rubbish, of +course, but there’s a rotten under-current beneath all this that I +neither understand nor like. I shall be glad when it’s morning again +and we have some clean, fresh air to inhale.” +</p> + +<p> +He emptied his glass. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” she said quietly. “It was rotten of me to make you tell +me; but I did so want to know. And this expedition to-night is merely +a side-issue; it has really nothing to do with the affair of this +afternoon?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing whatever, as far as I know. If you lived out here long you’d +get used to this sort of business. Nothing happens for months on end +and then we may have half-a-dozen exciting incidents in a week. I +expect the Commissioner’s had his eye on Abu-Samar for a long time.” +</p> + +<p> +She started. +</p> + +<p> +“What was that?” +</p> + +<p> +He looked back over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Only Mai-Heng moving about in Armourer’s room. He’s late to-night, +but we were six at dinner, you know, and I imagine he’s had his work +cut out to get through.” +</p> + +<p> +He remained for some moments, listening. +</p> + +<p> +“Mai-Heng!” he called. +</p> + +<p> +For answer there came from the magistrate’s bedroom a peculiar +gurgling noise and something crashed heavily to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +They came to their feet together. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop where you are, Miss Standen. I don’t suppose it’s anything.” +</p> + +<p> +He threw open the door. +</p> + +<p> +As he did so, something as large as a bat brushed his ear and flew +past him on to the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +The room was in darkness and, feeling his way across it, his toe +kicked against something soft. He struck a match and dropped on his +knees beside the lifeless form of Armourer’s cook-boy. +</p> + +<p> +Mai-Heng lay on his back, a hurricane-lamp with a broken chimney at +his side. His arms were above his head, his singlet open at the top, +and across his dark chest was the sign of the Crimson Butterfly. +</p> + +<p> +The match burned out, and Trevor, with trembling fingers, fumbled for +another. +</p> + +<p> +A second inspection of the dead servant revealed that he held the +pendant in his left hand, its chain of gold filigree trailing across +the floor. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch16"> +CHAPTER XVI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Butterfly Returns</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Trevor</span> rose from his knees to find Joyce at the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +He could see that she was pale and trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“Is anything the matter?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +He controlled himself with an effort. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing much,” he declared firmly. “Mai-Heng’s met with an accident. +D’you mind just slipping down the passage to the back entrance and +calling for an orderly.” +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Mai-Heng?—I don’t see him.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor bit his lip. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you can’t see him,” he returned with some irritation. “I’ve +got him here—on the floor behind the table—and the lamp’s gone +<i>phut</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll bring you a light.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t bother now, please. I’ll fix that while you’re away.” +</p> + +<p> +She came a step towards him, peering fearfully into the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Trevor, if there’s been an accident, surely I can do something +for the poor fellow. I’m used to nursing, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +He took her by both arms and pushed her gently from the room on to the +verandah, closing the door after him. +</p> + +<p> +“I hate to seem to order you about, Miss Standen; but I want one of +Armourer’s men at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he unconscious?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +She stood for some seconds regarding him steadily, then went slowly +towards the head of the passage. She turned suddenly, a faint smile +hovering on her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll have to go,” she declared. “I can’t speak a word of Malay.” +</p> + +<p> +He made a noise with his tongue against the roof of his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“I hadn’t thought of that. All right, you stop here—and mind, I don’t +want you to go into that room. Mai-Heng was never an over-clean +specimen of humanity—and as he is now he might easily frighten you. +Will you promise?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well.” +</p> + +<p> +He could see that she gave her consent reluctantly, and feared, from +the troubled look behind her dark eyes, that she had already her +suspicions as to the actual state of affairs. +</p> + +<p> +He was on his way back from the men’s quarters when a piercing scream +broke upon the stillness of the Eastern night. +</p> + +<p> +He completed the rest of the distance at breakneck speed. +</p> + +<p> +In the passage-way he cursed himself for an abject idiot. One of a +score of ghastly things might have occurred in his absence, and his +only sane line of action under the circumstances should have been to +have taken her with him. +</p> + +<p> +He was considerably relieved to discover her half fainting in a chair, +staring as if hypnotised at something on the wall beyond the +lamplight. +</p> + +<p> +He bent over her. +</p> + +<p> +“It was you who screamed?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“You opened that door.” +</p> + +<p> +She began talking rapidly, excitedly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, I didn’t even go near the room. I stood quite still just +where you had left me, trying to regain my nerve. I was frightened, +horribly frightened; the shadows frightened me… the awful silence… +everything. Presently I gritted my teeth and forced myself to do +something. I remembered that the others should be on their way back +and walked to the rail to look for them. The moon had gone in, and +there was nothing there but blackness. You can <i>feel</i> the blackness +out here. I heard a voice—your voice, shouting something, and decided +to go and meet you. As I passed the lamp an enormous insect fluttered +down from the ceiling and circled round it. There had been scores of +things flying there before, but they all vanished when <i>it</i> came. +Something made me stop. I saw its outline at first and thought it was +a huge moth; and then I realised it was a butterfly—and saw that it +was red! I just flopped back into the first chair I could find and +screamed at the top of my voice.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned his head sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“A red butterfly!” he muttered hoarsely. “You must be mistaken. They +don’t fly at night, you know, even out here.” +</p> + +<p> +She pointed at the wall. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you I saw it quite plainly. It was the creature you told me +about—the one my father described this afternoon. It’s over there +now—don’t you see it?” +</p> + +<p> +She clutched at his arm and a cold sensation passed down his spine. +</p> + +<p> +He had never quite understood until that moment how peculiarly +contagious fear was. With Mai-Heng lying there and the memory of +something unpleasant brushing his cheek, Armourer’s bungalow had +suddenly become a house of horrors. For a matter of moments he +remained rooted to the spot, an invisible—yet impassable—barrier +between him and the far wall. +</p> + +<p> +The approach of the magistrate’s men brought him to his senses and he +cast a sidelong glance at Joyce, praying that this momentary lapse had +passed unnoticed. +</p> + +<p> +The two black soldiers shuffled on to the verandah buttoning up their +coats and looking profoundly uncomfortable. One of them carried a +lamp. +</p> + +<p> +“Go into the <i>Tuan-Hakim’s</i> room,” Trevor commanded. “You will find +Mai-Heng there. Carry him out by the other door and put him in any +shed that happens to be empty. Cover him up with a blanket or +something.” +</p> + +<p> +The fact that Joyce did not understand Malay had its advantages. +</p> + +<p> +The men saluted and passed into the darkness, leaving the door ajar. +</p> + +<p> +Trevor shut it deliberately. +</p> + +<p> +He heard them moving about inside, a volley of startled exclamations +and fragments of a prolonged consultation that ensued almost +immediately after. One of them said something about a blanket and a +door opened somewhere. +</p> + +<p> +A remark from the girl roused him to action. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s crawling up the wall,” she cried. “Look!” +</p> + +<p> +His glance fell upon the butterfly net that Gholam-Singh had made for +the professor. He plucked it from the shelf upon which it lay and +hooked a small chair through the living-room doorway. +</p> + +<p> +Joyce was on her feet now. +</p> + +<p> +“Do be careful,” she implored. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean to be,” he said between his teeth; “but, in case I miss, +hadn’t you better go in to Mrs. Battiscombe? You’d be safer there.” +</p> + +<p> +The colour had come back to her cheeks, and in the light from the lamp +she looked infinitely beautiful. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not afraid—now,” she told him, “and I want to be of use, if I +can. Don’t send me away.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor reflected. +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” he said at length. “There’s Armourer’s tennis racquet +over there in the corner. Swipe at it with that if it flies towards +you.” +</p> + +<p> +He placed the chair a couple of feet from the wall and mounted it. +</p> + +<p> +Joyce possessed herself of the racquet and watched breathlessly. +</p> + +<p> +The insect had crawled into the angle the ceiling made with the wall, +a position that presented difficulties. She removed the shade from the +lamp and the creature showed up clearly against the woodwork. She +could plainly discern the thin black body, the fat fleshy wings and +the long antennæ that moved restlessly. +</p> + +<p> +It was the green eyes of the thing, however, that were disconcerting +Trevor. They seemed to be surveying his every movement with an +interest that was at once almost human and distinctly inhuman. He was +aware of a sense of fear, a feeling of acute nausea and an unpleasant, +pungent odour. +</p> + +<p> +To the girl it seemed countless ages before he brought back his arm +and the net with it, remained motionless, as if taking careful aim, +and brought the frame of the contrivance against the boarding. +</p> + +<p> +The uppermost edge of the frame scraped against the ceiling and Trevor +hit a couple of inches too low on the wall. A fraction of the body +remained imprisoned for a fleeting second, and before he could make +the necessary movement to ensure his capture the insect had struggled +free and fluttered off into the night. +</p> + +<p> +“Damn!” +</p> + +<p> +Not knowing why, Joyce laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Rotten luck!” she commented. +</p> + +<p> +He stepped from the chair, regarding the net ruefully. +</p> + +<p> +“A jolly bad shot,” he insisted. “I might have known the ceiling would +baulk me. Where’s it gone now?” +</p> + +<p> +She pointed into the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“Out there.” She contrived to speak easily. “Anyhow, you’ve driven it +away.” +</p> + +<p> +He put the chair back in its place and threw the net on to the table. +</p> + +<p> +“There is that consolation, I suppose; but I was a blithering idiot to +miss, all the same. Must have lost my nerve at the critical moment.” +</p> + +<p> +He unstoppered the decanter. +</p> + +<p> +“Ugh! The thing smelt horribly!” +</p> + +<p> +“Smelt?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—worse than a stink-bug, if you’ll excuse the expression. Won’t +you have something to drink? I’m sure you want it.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you very much. I’m afraid the smell of the whisky would +upset me more than that of the butterfly.” +</p> + +<p> +He poured out three fingers and looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s some wine knocking about somewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t bother to look for it, please. I really don’t want it. The only +thing I ask is not to be left alone. Look at the dogs. When you went +into the bedroom I put Mick back in the chair—and neither of them has +moved a hair. Do sit down. I want to talk to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“The Oracle is ready,” he said, “and there is absolutely no charge!” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“That was the crimson butterfly,” she declared. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe so.” +</p> + +<p> +She bent forward. +</p> + +<p> +“Was it that that caused Mai-Heng’s <i>accident</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor emptied his glass. When he looked up at her again his face was +flushed. +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to go in for law,” he said; “you’d make a charming and +efficient barrister!” +</p> + +<p> +“But you haven’t answered my question.” +</p> + +<p> +He racked his brains for an evasive reply. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think it wise for any of us to jump to conclusions until +we’ve had a look at Mai-Heng in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t send for a doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, because there isn’t one available at the moment.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked straight into his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Trevor, why take such elaborate precautions to try and deceive +me? Why didn’t you let me help you with Mr. Armourer’s servant?—why +were you so anxious to keep me from that room? I have all my senses, +you know, and a woman’s intuition thrown in. I know that Mai-Heng is +dead—and that he died as Mr. Moberly died this afternoon. It’s true, +isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +The assistant rubbed his chin. +</p> + +<p> +“Mai-Heng is dead,” he admitted, “but as to how he met his end—that’s +a doctor’s affair, not mine. D’you mind if we discuss something else.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not in the least; but I should like to say just one thing. I’m out +for the defence of my sex now, Mr. Trevor. When you told me about the +other affair you seemed inclined to associate Mrs. Battiscombe with +the crimson butterfly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you did, didn’t you? You told me that the <i>ju-ju</i> theory was +all nonsense, but the male in you wouldn’t allow you to exonerate Mrs. +Battiscombe entirely from blame. Now this second tragedy proves her +innocence conclusively. Her ornament—which you found near Mr. Moberly +when he died—could not possibly have been near that wretched +Chinaman.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor was conscious of a tremendous inward struggle. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he conceded lamely, “it couldn’t, could it?” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment one of Armourer’s men appeared at the opening and +stood, his hands clasped behind him, waiting for someone to notice +him. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” demanded Trevor. +</p> + +<p> +The native came forward. +</p> + +<p> +“It is this, <i>Tuan</i>,” he stammered. “When we carried Mai-Heng away we +did not see it; but we felt it as we put him down. It was fixed +between the fingers.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce, bending forward excitedly, saw a ruby ornament on a gold chain +pass from the soldier’s grubby brown hand to Trevor’s palm. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch17"> +CHAPTER XVII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A Strange Phenomenon</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Trevor</span> looked at Joyce and there was a wealth of meaning in his +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +He waved his hand to indicate to the orderly that the interview was at +an end and remained silent until he was out of hearing. +</p> + +<p> +“How does the counsel for the defence feel now?” +</p> + +<p> +The girl winced. +</p> + +<p> +“Rotten!” she returned; “decidedly rotten. You might have told me.” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Looking back a bit, I fancy I’ve already told you more than I ought; +certainly more than is good for you. Now you can realise something of +the nature of the shock I suffered when I tumbled across Mai-Heng—and +<i>that</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +His fingers touched the Butterfly pendant. +</p> + +<p> +“It must have been terrible.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was pretty ghastly.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t complain you’ve been left out of the excitement now. I +don’t suppose the others have encountered anything half so thrilling.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor grunted. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve had enough thrills for one evening, thank you!—A little of this +sort of thing goes a long way. Armourer’ll be mighty sick when he +hears about Mai-Heng.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think he meant to steal the pendant?” +</p> + +<p> +He shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“I scarcely know what to think. Armourer’s discarded clothing was +lying all over the floor, and it’s just possible he left the Butterfly +in a pocket and Mai-Heng had only that moment discovered it. Whichever +way it was, his luck was badly out.” +</p> + +<p> +He rested his elbows on the table and buried his head in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t the remotest idea what it all means,” he announced +suddenly; “have you?” +</p> + +<p> +“How should I?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, that’s just it. How should anybody? This cursed charm appears to +be at the bottom of the trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +She glanced at it apprehensively. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re back to where we started—back to the <i>ju-ju</i> business again. +It is like the real butterfly, you know, only much smaller and, of +course, more transparent. I simply adore that chain.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s pretty enough.” +</p> + +<p> +He picked it up and examined the workmanship minutely. +</p> + +<p> +The girl’s eyes sparkled. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t imagine any sensible woman refusing a gift like that.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor blinked. +</p> + +<p> +“How d’you know it was a gift. She might have bought it.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Women like Mrs. Battiscombe don’t have to buy pretty things; there is +always somebody ready to buy them for them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why only women like Mrs. Battiscombe?” +</p> + +<p> +The girl coloured slightly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know. She’s just a type. The majority of women won’t +accept presents of that sort from just any man.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you suggest that she does?” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose that was rather a catty thing to say, and not at all +consistent with my defence-of-the-sex idea; but I don’t claim to be +any more consistent than most other women. Everybody in Jesselton was +talking about her when we arrived.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor allowed the links of the filigree chain to fall from one hand +to the other. +</p> + +<p> +“There are only about three topics of conversation out here at the +moment—and one of them’s Vera Battiscombe. Between ourselves, Miss +Standen, you’re perfectly right. We were all of us pretty sick at the +hold she was getting over Dick Moberly and the way she was letting +Battiscombe down. She carried Dick off, so to speak, under the nose of +Mrs. Moberly, and the latter, apparently unable to talk Dick back into +a sensible frame of mind, cleared out altogether. Poor old Dick!” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose there was a little jealousy too?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so far as we were concerned,” he hastened to inform her. +“Speaking personally, I’m not inclined to be any too keen on a woman +who makes all the running herself. That’s where Moberly was weak. A +pretty woman had only to take notice of him and he’d go bang off the +deep end.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you think Mr. Moberly gave her this pendant?” +</p> + +<p> +“She sent it back to him with a lot of other things, so I suppose he +did.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why and where did the real butterfly come in?” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor threw up his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask me another!” He glanced at his watch. “Jove! they’re late! I +wonder if they’ve struck any snags.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce was not to be thrown off the main topic of conversation so +easily. +</p> + +<p> +“Oughtn’t we to do something to prevent the butterfly coming back?” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor wrinkled his forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t suppose it’ll want to after that swipe I gave it.” +</p> + +<p> +“There may be others.” +</p> + +<p> +He shuddered. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t let’s get too morbid. I was just lulling myself to sleep with +the thought that our friend was a rare and unique specimen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t we do something with it?” +</p> + +<p> +She was looking at the pendant. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll have to keep it until Armourer comes back, otherwise I should +suggest burying it as far away from any human habitation as possible.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce nestled back in the cushions and sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“Doesn’t it seem a pity?—to have to bury a beautiful creation like +that? It’s so wonderful, so utterly unusual. I know a dozen women at +home who would cheerfully risk the trail of tragedy it seems to drag +after it only to possess it. And it’s got to be stuck in the ground +and have nasty damp earth stamped all over it!” +</p> + +<p> +A perfectly obvious retort occurred to Trevor, but he refrained from +expressing it. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s an uncomfortable possession,” he said instead, and tossed the +thing deliberately into the farthest corner of the verandah. “I don’t +know that even that is a safe precaution against following in the +footsteps of Moberly and Mai-Heng; but I feel a great deal more happy +with it at a distance.” +</p> + +<p> +“It happens to be outside my door,” she reminded him. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think that matters very much. It’s closed—and the others are +bound to want to look at it again when they hear what’s happened.” +</p> + +<p> +He stared into the night. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello! there’s a light at last. They’ll be here in a few minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +Both the terriers pricked up their ears, shook themselves and plunged, +barking, down the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +Trevor rubbed his hands together and smiled queerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Wonderful thing, a crowd, Miss Standen! It’s difficult to imagine +what any or all of ’em could do if the butterfly rolled up again; but +the arrival of a bunch like that undoubtedly promotes a sense of +security!” +</p> + +<p> +He crossed to the stair-head and Joyce joined him there. +</p> + +<p> +Making a megaphone of his hands, he called: +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, there!—Are you all right?” +</p> + +<p> +A faint cry floated back to them. +</p> + +<p> +The girl glanced at her companion. +</p> + +<p> +“Who was that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Armourer, I fancy.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did he say?” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t catch; but the tone sounded cheery. I wonder if they’ve +brought the black gentleman with them. Judging from the time they’ve +been away, they ought to have arrested an entire village!” +</p> + +<p> +Something made her turn her head. She clutched at Trevor’s arm with +both hands. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +His eyes followed the direction of her gaze. +</p> + +<p> +“An arm,” she whispered fearfully, “a white arm came through the +doorway and went back again.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +“Which doorway?” +</p> + +<p> +“The far one—my room, you know—and the pendant’s gone!” +</p> + +<p> +He went a couple of paces and bent down, staring at the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“So it has, by Jove!” +</p> + +<p> +She clung to the rail for support. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think it was?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Battiscombe walking in her sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why did she take the Butterfly? She couldn’t possibly have known +it was there.” +</p> + +<p> +“One wouldn’t imagine so.” +</p> + +<p> +She leaned back, gasping for breath. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s horrible! I’m so glad the others are here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here, pull yourself together,” said Trevor sternly. “You’ve got to go +into that room and find out what’s happened.” +</p> + +<p> +“I daren’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m coming with you. It’s no use waiting about for the rest. If it +was Mrs. Battiscombe, so much the better. She has had the thing +before—and nothing killed <i>her</i>. There’s just the faintest chance it +might be somebody else—and I rather hope it is. It’d help to clear up +a lot of things.” +</p> + +<p> +He tip-toed across the verandah and opened the door to its fullest +extent. The lamp was still burning within, and, on a bed at the far +end, he could just make out the outline of a slumbering woman behind +mosquito-curtains. +</p> + +<p> +He beckoned to Joyce. +</p> + +<p> +“Come on. There’s nobody here. I want you to draw back those +curtains.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked past him, like a frightened child peering into a dark +cupboard and fearful of bogies, then walked towards the bed. +</p> + +<p> +They stood presently side by side, gazing down at the sleeping form of +Vera Battiscombe. +</p> + +<p> +There was not a sign that she had stirred. +</p> + +<p> +She was breathing regularly, there was a healthy colour on her cheeks, +and the soft fair curls encircled her head like a wondrous halo. +</p> + +<p> +Joyce uttered a little cry and pointed to her throat. +</p> + +<p> +The filigree chain was clasped securely round her neck and the Crimson +Butterfly nestled in the gossamer folds above a gently heaving bosom. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch18"> +CHAPTER XVIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Professor Changes His Views</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> verandah was empty when the three men came clattering up the +steps in their heavy boots with the terriers yapping excitedly at +their heels. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe dropped into a chair. +</p> + +<p> +He caught Michael’s eye. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the place is still here!” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer stretched his weary limbs. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s here right enough, as you say. How do you feel, professor?” +</p> + +<p> +The professor was peering round him anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty fit, thanks. I don’t think I shall be altogether sorry when +I’m in bed.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe looked at his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Lord! we’re in an unholy mess! That was your precious short cut from +Vance’s, Michael! Kuraman warned you there might be swamps at that end +of the valley.” +</p> + +<p> +His colleague laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I was badly out there,” he admitted. “Well, I suppose it’s a quick +drink and bed. Wonder where Trevor is.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce appeared suddenly at the doorway of her room, followed by the +second assistant. +</p> + +<p> +She ran to her father. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so glad you’ve all got back safely. We were beginning to wonder +what had happened. We’ve had a perfectly ghastly time since you left.” +</p> + +<p> +She bent down and kissed his forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s been the matter?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +She looked back at Trevor. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d better tell them, hadn’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor walked up to Armourer. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve a piece of bad news for you,” he said. “Your +servant—Mai-Heng—has been killed by the crimson butterfly.” +</p> + +<p> +All three started and Battiscombe sprang to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” +</p> + +<p> +The planter passed a weary hand across his forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“Mai-Heng is dead. I found him in there”—he pointed to Armourer’s +room. “He had unearthed that confounded ornament from somewhere and I +found it between his fingers.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer shot a glance at Battiscombe. +</p> + +<p> +“I told you I’d left it in my clothes. +</p> + +<p> +“When I opened the door,” pursued Trevor, “the butterfly flew past me +and frightened Miss Standen. I tried to kill it, but missed—and it +flew away. The pendant didn’t seem to be a pleasant sort of thing to +carry about with one, so I chucked it into a corner. The next thing +that happened was a white arm groping through a doorway for it. This +fresh development rather staggered us. By the time we’d gathered our +wits together, the chain had somehow found its way round Mrs. +Battiscombe’s neck—and the queer thing is that she looks as fit as a +fiddle.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor was fidgeting with his glasses. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s really very remarkable,” he murmured to himself. “You’re quite +certain in your own mind that you actually saw the insect? You’ll +pardon my asking an apparently foolish question, but quite a number of +queer bugs fly about on a tropic night—and it would be perfectly +simple to make a mistake.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“We weren’t mistaken, daddy. It crawled up the wall and stayed there +for some time.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Mai-Heng died with the Butterfly pendant in his hand?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Trevor, “and the same peculiar mark was across his chest.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe, who had been pondering deeply, asked the next question. +</p> + +<p> +“And you say that my wife got up from her bed and picked the thing +from the floor?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t,” retorted Trevor. “I can only tell you the facts exactly as +they happened. Miss Standen saw the arm and we both found the +Butterfly at Mrs. Battiscombe’s throat. She was lying much as Miss +Standen had left her, the curtains were tucked in all round the bed; +there was nothing in fact to indicate that she had moved.” +</p> + +<p> +“It couldn’t get there by itself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know that.” +</p> + +<p> +“If my wife did take it, how did she know it was there on the floor +close by the door of her room?” +</p> + +<p> +“How did she know it was in the house at all?” interposed Armourer. +</p> + +<p> +“She couldn’t have known, unless she had listened; and she couldn’t +very well have listened because she was ill. Anyhow, the thing’s round +her neck and any of you who want to can see it for yourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe emitted a deep sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“And to think that we let Abu-Samar slip through our fingers!” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor stared. +</p> + +<p> +“What the dickens has Abu-Samar to do with it?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer tapped out his pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“Everything, apparently.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he hasn’t been near the place.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe reached over the decanter. +</p> + +<p> +“Trevor hasn’t heard about the latest developments,” he said slowly. +“Heaven knows only what Dr. Abu-Samar has up his sleeve. Among other +things he’s a conjurer—a sort of native magician—and the professor’s +theory is that he breeds those butterflies.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor found his hat. +</p> + +<p> +“This is getting too deep for me,” he complained, “I’m paid by a lot +of niggardly directors in London to plant rubber and there’s a clause +in my contract which says I’m not to interest myself in any other +business. Does anybody know where they put my pony?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer stepped between him and the exit. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not going back to-night?” +</p> + +<p> +“You can bet your life I am. It’s close on one now—and I have to be +down in the coolie-lines at five-thirty. Besides, your house isn’t +elastic.” +</p> + +<p> +“I could fix you up somehow.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t worth the bother; thanks all the same. There’s a good moon +again now and I can be back at my place in under three-quarters of an +hour. If you take my advice, you’ll leave the pendant where it is, and +sleep with your doors and windows closed.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about Mrs. Battiscombe?” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor paused on the top step. +</p> + +<p> +“As I was saying just before you came in, Mrs. Battiscombe’s worn the +charm before—and it didn’t hurt <i>her</i>. If that idea doesn’t appeal to +you, you’d better go out and bury it. Good night, everybody!” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer went down after him. +</p> + +<p> +“A nice young fellow that!” commented the professor. +</p> + +<p> +He looked round to see that Joyce had fallen asleep in her chair. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s had a rough time,” said Battiscombe softly. “You’d better get +her back to Jesselton to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“She won’t go until Mrs. Battiscombe is better,” declared her father. +</p> + +<p> +“Then as soon as my wife is fit to be moved we’ll pack them both off +to the coast. This is no place for women at the moment.” +</p> + +<p> +“The extraordinary thing is,” said the professor, “that until Armourer +brought that wretched talisman here it was one of the most charming +spots it had ever been my good fortune to encounter. I am contriving +now to keep quite an open mind with regard to this peculiar sequence +of events. Until an hour or so ago I must confess I was bigoted. It +seemed so utterly absurd that an inanimate red stone on a gold chain +could have the remotest connection with a poisonous and highly vicious +insect. Mind you, I am not yet prepared to admit that any such +connection exists; but, with this further development fresh in our +minds, it would be the sheerest folly to ignore the apparent +significance of the presence of that ornament in any given place.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe’s red face bore a troubled expression. +</p> + +<p> +“And so——?” +</p> + +<p> +“And so, before we retire to-night, we must follow Trevor’s second +suggestion and bury it somewhere, marking the spot so that we may be +able to find it again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not sling it into a swamp? The thing’s unclean.” +</p> + +<p> +Standen stroked his beard. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I shouldn’t suggest that. We may want it again.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shan’t—for one, and I’m willing to wager that the others will be +glad to see the back of it.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor suddenly tightened the skin at the back of his left +hand, thus imprisoning a mosquito in the act of stinging him, and +dispatched it smartly with the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Until the entire mystery is satisfactorily cleared up,” he declared, +“it would be a pity to lose sight of so important a clue.” +</p> + +<p> +He kicked the charred basket which now reposed at his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“You forget that an actual specimen of the crimson butterfly has not +yet come into my hands. My chrysalis may produce something quite +harmless, in which case we shall not only be farther from our goal +than ever, but we shall have lost a great deal of valuable time. I +must get a crimson butterfly before I can hope to embark upon my +investigations.” +</p> + +<p> +“We hope to catch Abu-Samar before long—and my wife may be able to +tell us something in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +The older man shook his head sadly. +</p> + +<p> +“I shouldn’t bank too much on Mrs. Battiscombe’s knowledge, if I were +you. Samar has taken to the backwoods—and Borneo is a big place. +Possibly he has countless friends in the interior who will shield him. +No, Battiscombe, it’s the butterfly we want, and if the ornament can +be employed as a bait for these things, I’m going to use it for all +I’m worth.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’ll be devilish risky.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course. Scientific research is usually dangerous. In the +unearthing of new secrets investigators play with forces concerning +the limits of which they have often not the remotest idea. Still, in +the interests of science and humanity, these risks have to be taken. +If, indeed, Samar breeds these insects, he may one day let them loose +in their thousands, to pick off humanity as the locusts pick off +grain. Without a known antidote we shall be in a terrible position; +and to discover an antidote one must know one’s poison first. I shall +get Armourer to build me a hut in the forest, which I shall endeavour +to equip as a rough laboratory. I shall keep the charm hanging there, +cover the windows with netting and smear the outer walls with what is +commonly known to naturalists as <i>treacle</i>. If there is something +about the talisman which attracts this form of insect-life, the +crimson butterfly should obviously be attracted to that spot.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer came up the steps. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you two conspirators, what about bed?—Professor, you’ve yours +waiting for you. Jimmy and I are going to fix up temporary quarters in +the living-room. It’s a confounded nuisance my man’s gone west, but I +know where I can rope in another in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor came to his feet, dusting cigarette ash from the folds +of his tunic. +</p> + +<p> +“Battiscombe,” he said, “do you mind getting me that pendant before we +wake Joyce? I shall be obliged, Armourer, if you can show me where to +find a spade.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not going out again.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am,” Standen assured him. “I’m going to bury the charm before I +turn in.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer threw out his arms. +</p> + +<p> +“Behold!” he cried, “the conversion of an unbeliever!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch19"> +CHAPTER XIX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">An Important Capture</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">James Battiscombe</span> stretched himself and yawned. He sat up presently +to find the bright light of early morning shining in through an open +shutter and Armourer’s chair untenanted. +</p> + +<p> +He looked at his watch. +</p> + +<p> +It was ten minutes past seven. +</p> + +<p> +He groped for his tunic, and, slipping it on over the pyjama jacket +his host had provided, padded in bare feet out on to the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer—in a somewhat faded bath-gown—had forestalled him and was +leaning on the rail gazing down at the absurd antics of Mick and Mac. +He turned to greet his colleague. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, old son! Feel rested?” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe rubbed his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know yet. I hope this was an old suit of yours, because I’m +feeling a draught somewhere and I’ve a shrewd suspicion the jacket’s +split down the back.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t worry yourself about that. It’s as old as the hills. +Wonderful morning, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Top-hole!” +</p> + +<p> +He cast an appreciative eye over a rolling and varied landscape. +Beyond the belt of trees through which they had passed the night +before, he caught the vivid green of young paddy, stretching to the +spot where the virgin jungle began. Away over to the right, where new +wire glinted in the sun, he recognised the newly planted rubber of an +estate which had yesterday been under Moberly’s management. To the +right again, placid and incredibly blue, he saw the sea. A group of +natives gesticulated below, a Chinese trader, with his wife as a beast +of burden behind, sauntered stolidly along the path which led +eastward, and a big brown hawk hovered in the heavens. +</p> + +<p> +“No more tragedies, I suppose?” he added presently. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank goodness. I looked in on the professor five minutes back, +and tapped on Miss Standen’s door until I got an answer. I’ve taken +the liberty, by the way, of sending one of your men across for your +clothes and shaving kit. Kuraman found a chap who could ride a bit, so +you oughtn’t to have to wait very long.” +</p> + +<p> +The other beamed. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s extremely thoughtful of you, Michael, my boy. I was just +wondering what sort of figure I should cut at breakfast. Lord! what a +strenuous day we had yesterday! It makes me ache all over to think of +it. Wonder what the Commissioner will say when he hears about +Abu-Samar!” +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll have a deal more to say when he learns of the crimson butterfly +business.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe groaned. +</p> + +<p> +“I can see a devil of a lot of strenuous work in the offing. He’ll be +popping up all over the place at the most unexpected and inconvenient +moments. We shall be required to send in reports every five minutes. +In short there’ll never be a moment of peace for either of us until +Dr. Abu-Samar has been captured and handed over.” +</p> + +<p> +An orderly, with tea and green bananas on a tray, came from the back +of the house and set down his burden on the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Get some biscuits,” ordered Armourer. “You’ll find them in a tin on +the second shelf in the living-room. Yes,” he said to his companion, +“Stewart’s all right when you understand him; and he takes a lot of +understanding.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s so beastly energetic,” complained the other. “He ought to have a +little weight to carry about with him. It’d give him a better idea +what tropic life means to some of us!” +</p> + +<p> +The professor’s door opened and the occupant of the room emerged, clad +in a yellow dressing-gown that had seen much wear and slippers +trampled down at the back. +</p> + +<p> +“Aha!” he cried; “up with the lark!” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer was pouring out tea. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m afraid the lark had the better of us this morning. Still, +considering the hour at which we retired, we’ve nothing much to be +ashamed of—Let’s see, professor, you don’t take sugar?” +</p> + +<p> +“No—and no milk, if you don’t mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s lemon here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, just one slice. That’s excellent! Has anybody heard how +Mrs. Battiscombe is?” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“We were waiting for you to go in and find out.” +</p> + +<p> +Standen placed his cup carefully on the table and shuffled to the +door. He rapped on it with his knuckles and a muffled feminine voice +answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo? what is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is I,” said the professor. “How are you this morning, my dear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Me? Oh, I’m all right. I slept like a top.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad to hear that. No unpleasant dreams?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t remember any. I think I was too tired even to dream.” +</p> + +<p> +“How’s your patient?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a long pause, which appeared to indicate that Joyce had +slept since Armourer first roused her and had to make certain of her +patient’s condition before replying. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the handle turned and the door opened for a couple of +inches. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in,” said Miss Standen through the crack; “I’d like you to look +at her.” +</p> + +<p> +The other two men exchanged glances as the professor, a tasselled cord +trailing behind him, disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Not so well,” suggested Battiscombe suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer sipped his tea. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t suppose she’s very bad. She was fairly fit last night, and it +looked as if the fever had burnt itself out. It’s no use worrying +yourself; Standen’ll tell us all the news in a couple of shakes.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe sat down and stared gloomily at some ants that had found +their way into the sugar-basin. +</p> + +<p> +“Somehow I can’t get used to the fact that Vera’s ill; she’s always +kept so fit. If anyone’s down at our place, it’s I. D’you know, +Michael, as soon as she’s well enough to travel, I’m going to send her +home. Lord only knows how I’m going to run to two establishments, but +it’s got to be done. It’ll be an awful wrench, of course, and I shall +be as miserable as <i>Hades</i>, but it’s simply got to be. Between +ourselves, old son, the East’s no place for some women.” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand,” said his friend quietly. “Our climate doesn’t suit all +temperaments.” +</p> + +<p> +He was endeavouring to agree with Battiscombe in blaming the climate, +but was not altogether certain in his own mind how Vera Battiscombe +would figure even in England. From the bottom of his heart he pitied +her husband. Vera and he were so opposite, and it was probably because +of this that they had succeeded in hanging together for so long. And, +apart from the intricacies of the problem which confronted them both, +here was Jim Battiscombe genuinely worried over the health of a woman +who had fallen sick because of the death of another man. Even the +blindness of love had its compensations! +</p> + +<p> +He caught Battiscombe looking at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t you send her home, if you were in my shoes?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he felt bound to confess, “I fancy I should.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll have to find out all she knows about that confounded Butterfly +first. It’s that that worries me more than anything. She was wearing a +thing round her neck that I didn’t care to touch. Michael, do you +honestly believe Dick gave it her?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer felt distinctly uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m scarcely in a position to judge.” +</p> + +<p> +“But do you?” +</p> + +<p> +The other looked at his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“It scarcely seems feasible, does it? If it were ever in Dick’s +possession, why wasn’t he killed <i>before</i> he got rid of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s precisely what’s been puzzling me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s the professor,” said Armourer with intense relief. “Now +perhaps we shall learn something.” +</p> + +<p> +Standen came towards them, blinking through his spectacles like an +owl. +</p> + +<p> +“Your tea’ll be cold by now,” declared his host “I’ll throw it away +and pour out a fresh cup. How is Mrs. Battiscombe?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid she’s not quite so well this morning. There’s nothing +about her condition that gives cause for anxiety; but her temperature +is up again, and we shall have to keep her quiet for longer than I had +expected.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe’s face fell. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re giving you a lot of trouble, professor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Trouble? Nothing of the sort. I’m delighted to be of the least +service to any of you. You won’t forget my temporary laboratory, +Armourer. I am really quite serious about that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll get something fixed up at the earliest possible moment. It’ll +probably take us a couple of days.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose it will. I must try and run into Jesselton to-morrow and +see if the hospital can lend me some appliances.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’ll mean spending the night there,” said Armourer. +</p> + +<p> +“I must put up with that. Your own medical man should be here by then, +and I know my daughter is in good hands. It’s an extraordinary world +altogether. Which of us would have imagined, when Joyce and I fell off +that trolly the day before yesterday, that we should all be involved +in a problem like this within a few hours!” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself, professor!” +</p> + +<p> +Standen replaced his cup on its saucer and stared from one to the +other, an amused expression on his bearded, wrinkled face. +</p> + +<p> +“In some respects I suppose that is the case. My small share in the +task which confronts us is one after my own heart, and I was just +beginning to find a long period out of harness a little irksome. If I +actually lacked incentive, a moment’s reflection on the enormous +issues at stake could not fail to provide me with it. In a queer sort +of way, I’m engaged in a grim duel with a hidden and unscrupulous +enemy. It remains to be seen if the wisdom of the West can succeed in +laying bare the oft-times perplexing secrets of the mysterious East.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe extracted a splinter from a bare toe. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m prepared to wager that it can and will. It’s about the most +providential thing that ever happened—your being on the spot at such +a crisis. I can’t tell you how grateful we are.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce’s voice came shrilly from the far side of the wooden partition. +</p> + +<p> +“Will some kind person bring me a cup of tea?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Lord!” apologised Armourer, “I’m so sorry!” +</p> + +<p> +As soon as his clothes arrived, Battiscombe breakfasted and rode back +to Rembakut. Armourer descended a few moments after his departure and +took up his duties in a sweltering and somewhat primitive court of +justice. The professor fidgeted upon the verandah for a matter of +three-quarters of an hour, then stuck the butterfly-net under one arm +and sauntered out into the brilliant sunshine. +</p> + +<p> +He said little at lunch and disappeared again shortly after the meal +was finished. +</p> + +<p> +At a quarter to four he came slowly up the steps, and Joyce and +Armourer, who dozed in long chairs at separate extremes of the +verandah, glanced up simultaneously. +</p> + +<p> +Standen set one foot on the floor, looking for all the world like a +conquering commander arriving on the quarter-deck of a vanquished +rival. The net was still under one arm, and he held the other +awkwardly, with the air of a guilty schoolboy endeavouring to conceal +a bulging pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“For the first time in my whole existence,” he announced, “I find the +secrets of the Orient worthy of attention. What magnificent conjurers +these fellows are! It would almost seem as if their normal audiences +had grown so critical that it was necessary to constantly increase the +wrappings of mystery around their artifices to enable them to continue +to deceive. Because,” he added defiantly, “they are only tricks, you +know, picturesque, elaborate tricks! However improbable it may seem to +you, there is a satisfactory, rational reason for everything.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce gave vent to a chuckle that was lacking in respect towards an +elderly and distinguished parent. +</p> + +<p> +“Daddy’s been forced to change his mind about something,” she told +Armourer, “and is endeavouring to justify his first opinion! He does +so hate being wrong!” +</p> + +<p> +Even this attack—from within his own walls, so to speak—could not +shatter the professor’s air of determined good-humour. +</p> + +<p> +“What is one to do with a daughter like that?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“The question of the moment is,” declared the magistrate, “what is +this wonderful secret that you persist in keeping from us?” +</p> + +<p> +The professor tapped his pocket significantly. +</p> + +<p> +“The crimson butterfly flies to its image like a common or garden moth +to a flame.” He found a chair and leaned back in it, fanning himself +with his hand. “I’ve really had a most successful afternoon. I’ve +proved conclusively that the ornament and the insect, as we more than +half suspected last night, act in concert. Whenever it is free to do +so, the animate flies in search of the inanimate.” +</p> + +<p> +“It sounds frightfully impressive,” broke in Joyce, “but what does it +really mean?” +</p> + +<p> +Before the professor could embark upon his explanation, Armourer +spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“You say, whenever it is <i>free</i>. Do you suggest then that there are +times when the creature is not free?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, most decidedly. I hope I shall never be forced to admit that an +insect can discriminate between man and woman. Since this +extraordinary sequence of events began, there have been two +victims—and both of them males. Mrs. Battiscombe wore the pendant +with apparent impunity. The custodian of the butterfly, the man who +discovered the partiality of the insect for that particular type of +stone, must obviously assure himself as to the approximate position of +the pendant before he releases the butterfly on its mission of +vengeance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Abu-Samar.” +</p> + +<p> +Standen nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“But how do you know all this?” inquired his daughter. +</p> + +<p> +“Because,” said the professor,” a crimson butterfly in a rather +battered condition found its way to the spot where I buried the +ornament. I imagine it to be the one Trevor injured.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer sprang from his chair. +</p> + +<p> +“You actually saw it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I actually caught it,” laughed the professor. “I have a living +specimen of the crimson butterfly here with me now!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch20"> +CHAPTER XX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Joyce Goes to Jesselton</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">During</span> the week following the discovery of the butterfly Professor +Standen found it necessary to go down to Jesselton twice—and on the +second occasion he took Joyce. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer had pressed him to do this, because he felt certain she +desired a change, if only for a few hours. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Battiscombe’s illness, prolonged as it had been, had taken a +decided turn for the better, and in the case of an unexpected relapse +Dr. Macnally was now within easy call. +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate saw them off. +</p> + +<p> +“Have a good time,” he said to Joyce, “and don’t let your father drag +you around with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shan’t,” declared the girl. “I shall call on Mrs. Anderson and stop +at her house until he chooses to fetch me. I know what father is when +he gets with medical men.” +</p> + +<p> +Standen patted her arm affectionately. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall do just as you like, my dear, and if you care to stop +behind until I’ve finished my task you’re quite at liberty to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +He strode to the far end of the coach to blow an obstruction from his +cigarette-holder. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you?” asked Armourer. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t I what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop in Jesselton until the affair is cleared up.” +</p> + +<p> +She wrinkled her forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I want to. You see, I’ve only acquaintances in town.” +</p> + +<p> +“And we’ve become more than acquaintances.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked away. +</p> + +<p> +“Rather! I’m almost beginning to look upon Jelandang as a second home. +Besides, I shouldn’t care to leave Mrs. Battiscombe until she was +quite recovered. In spite of all the unpleasant things people say +about her, I like her immensely.” +</p> + +<p> +“And so you’re coming back because of Mrs. Battiscombe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not altogether. I like the house and the dogs, and our evening game +of cards is becoming quite an institution. Why don’t you want me to +come back?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked up suddenly and he felt himself crimsoning to the roots of +his hair. +</p> + +<p> +“I do,” he said earnestly. “It’ll be rotten up there without you. I +only suggested you might stay away for a bit because I was afraid you +would have a breakdown. You’ve been dancing attendance on Mrs. +Battiscombe for days and your system can’t possibly have had time to +accustom itself to our climate.” +</p> + +<p> +The train jolted forward and Armourer swung himself off. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye,” he shouted, keeping pace for some yards with it. “I’d like +to come with you, only I daren’t show my face in Jesselton until I’ve +achieved something definite.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce leaned out of the window. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye. Mind you look after yourself—and Mrs. Battiscombe!” +</p> + +<p> +He stared after the jolting line of white coaches until they were lost +to view amid jungle-clad banks. +</p> + +<p> +He tucked his malacca under one arm and turned to regain the path. +</p> + +<p> +“Now what on earth did she mean by that?” he demanded of his +inner—and presumably wiser—self. +</p> + +<p> +He was becoming desperately infatuated with Joyce Standen and her +thrust had found its way home with an accuracy that was astonishing. +Nobody realised more than he did what an uncomfortable guest Mrs. +Battiscombe was to a man in his position, and the fact that Joyce had +reminded him of this, <i>hurt</i>. For more than a week he had been trying +to live down that other incident on the verandah at Rembakut, when +Vera Battiscombe had somehow bewitched him into kissing her—and Jim +had surprised them <i>in flagrante delicto</i>. Unless Vera had told her in +an outburst of confidence, Joyce could not possibly know anything +about that. Lord! how contrary this wicked world was! He had tried to +keep Vera and Joyce apart and, following upon the heels of this +desire, Fate had landed them in a proximity that was too close to be +pleasant. When Joyce had been in danger at his bungalow an unkind +fortune had decreed that it should be Trevor, not he, who should be +there to protect her. And now, with the professor spending hours at a +time in his remote laboratory, when by every reasonable law they +should have scores of opportunities to be alone altogether, here was +this same Mrs. Battiscombe constantly butting in with petulant demands +for nourishment, water, or being read to. +</p> + +<p> +He thanked his stars, as he strode through the undergrowth, that +Battiscombe was coming over to sleep. To spend a night with only the +bewitching Vera under his roof would be tantamount to provoking a +scandal that would electrify the island! +</p> + +<p> +He was beginning to wish he had never brought her there at all. When +she fainted on Moberly’s bungalow he should have dispatched her +instantly to her husband’s house and left it for Jimmy to +cross-question her as to her knowledge of the Crimson Butterfly. As it +was, he had gained nothing by having her there; for Standen had stated +that she was not to be worried and that any questions concerning +Moberly’s death must be left until a complete recovery was definitely +assured. +</p> + +<p> +As for the redoubtable Abu-Samar, he had vanished as completely as if +the earth had swallowed him up. +</p> + +<p> +A coroner’s jury, hastily scraped together, had disposed of both cases +under the vague heading of <i>Death by Misadventure</i> and had followed +this swiftly decided verdict by drinking Vance’s cellar nearly dry. +The Commissioner had put into circulation a typewritten order advising +all settlers to take special precautions to protect themselves against +<i>a new and poisonous type of butterfly</i> and requesting an immediate +report in the event of a further specimen being seen. A reward of $250 +was, moreover, offered for information which might lead to the +apprehension of Mr. Abu-Samar—a reward which, in view of Samar’s +former escapades (and with dollars rating at 2s. 4d.), was pronounced +by the indignant Battiscombe as grossly inadequate. +</p> + +<p> +In an interview with Professor Standen the Commissioner had declared +that, while he was instructed by the Governor to sanction and assist +his researches for such a time as he should deem reasonable, he was by +no means satisfied that the absconding pseudo-doctor was in any way +responsible for the recent tragedies. He looked to the professor to +supply information, if possible, as to the habits and breeding-places +of the new insect, the nature of the poison it exuded and the type of +antidote to be employed—and suggested that a month or, at the most, +six weeks would be ample time in which to furnish the required data. +</p> + +<p> +The task of hunting down Abu-Samar he relegated to his local +magistrates and a sort of flying squadron of native infantry under a +fresh-comer from England named Lindsay. It should, perhaps, be +recorded here that Lindsay’s handful of brown-skinned soldiers +certainly <i>flew</i> but, beyond that, achieved nothing—a fact which, +considering their leader’s limited experience of Borneo, was scarcely +to be wondered at. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer was greeted on his arrival at the bungalow by a short missive +from Battiscombe. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<span class="sc">Dear Michael</span>,” it ran, “I had intended to be with you this evening, +but Fate—and the Commissioner—willed it otherwise. I am embarking +forthwith upon the ninety-and-ninth wild-goose chase into the +interior. Some optimistic village headman, with an eye to the main +chance, believes he has located our friend Abu. Of course he hasn’t, +but that’s neither here nor there! The interesting fact remains that +I’ve to go—and I’ve a devil of a liver! +</p> + +<p> +“Explain things to Vera. +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven knows when I shall be back, but at some point or other I shall +get covered in leeches; I feel it in my bones!—Yours ever, <span class="sc">Jimmy</span>.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Armourer read it through twice, crumpled it up between his fingers, +smoothed it out again and perused it for a third time. +</p> + +<p> +“Damn!” he ejaculated savagely, and wedged the letter between two +volumes on the shelf. +</p> + +<p> +Five minutes later he scribbled a line to Vance and handed it to an +orderly. Whatever happened he was not going to be left alone with that +woman. Since his experience at Rembakut he had a pious horror of +Vera—even when convalescent! +</p> + +<p> +He paced the verandah for some time with Mick and Mac, who, unable +immediately to accustom themselves to a considerably reduced +household, followed him abjectly wherever he went. +</p> + +<p> +It was two hours before a reply came back. +</p> + +<p> +Vance was sorry he couldn’t get away, but he was sending Trevor, who +would ride over some time after dinner. They were shorthanded and very +busy and there was a good deal of sickness in the coolie-lines. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer stared at the ceiling. +</p> + +<p> +After dinner! That might mean ten o’clock—and it was now barely five. +Five long hours with Vera Battiscombe; the prospect made him shudder. +She would profit by her privileged position as an invalid to wear as +few clothes as possible—and she would commence proceedings by calling +him Michael. She would persist in talking—and he wouldn’t be able to +summon up sufficient rudeness to stop her. She would dwell upon all +those things he most wanted to forget and finish by taunting him with +a supposed affection for Joyce, which he knew he would not be able +effectively to deny. +</p> + +<p> +What a pleasant evening it was going to be! +</p> + +<p> +The only sensible move would be to go out until dinner; but he +remembered to his disgust that she was still regarded as on the +sick-list and could not be left to the tender mercies of a new +cook-boy. +</p> + +<p> +In sheer exasperation he cursed heartily, though inwardly, Abu-Samar, +the Commissioner, James Battiscombe—for having such a wife—and +himself for having ever given her houseroom. He almost cursed the +professor into the bargain, for having gone to Jesselton; but this +would have included Joyce. +</p> + +<p> +Vera did not appear at tea, an occurrence which, far from raising his +hopes, merely aroused suspicions. Like a skilled general meditating a +surprise attack, she was planning to commence her assault at the hour +when she counted she would find him at his weakest! +</p> + +<p> +He was having his first whisky of the evening and meditating a hot +bath, when her door opened. +</p> + +<p> +The sun had dropped—a flaming ball—into the western sea, and in +those few fleeting moments of half-light the universe seemed hushed. +Beyond the pall that was swiftly creeping over everything big stars +were already showing. There came a timid murmuring of insect voices, +working up like a distant orchestra in some frenzied Russian +composition, until the atmosphere seemed full of it. +</p> + +<p> +A great hour this—second only to the dawn, and Armourer saw in it +Vera’s zero-hour. +</p> + +<p> +She appeared to sail towards him out from the gloom, pale, beautiful, +ravishing.… He could see that her cheeks were as white as marble and +her lips as crimson as the fatal Butterfly.… +</p> + +<p> +He stood there trembling, aghast at the immensity of her beauty, +powerless.… She dropped suddenly at his feet and the touch of the +crêpey substance of her pale blue kimono on his wrist set his teeth +on edge. +</p> + +<p> +“Michael,” she murmured tremulously, “why have you kept me here? … +What have you done with my beautiful Butterfly?” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch21"> +CHAPTER XXI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Siren Speaks</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">She</span> lay there, clasping at his knees, fragile as a piece of rare +porcelain, with eyes as innocent in their gaze as those of a child, +and it was minutes before Armourer could make up his mind to touch +her. +</p> + +<p> +He contrived not to look at her, staring vaguely into the +night-shrouded open lands and the shadowy outlines of the forest +beyond. +</p> + +<p> +Strong man that he was, he felt that her presence there imperilled his +soul. He saw her no longer as Vera—the wife of a cheery, fat, +commonplace colleague; but as a siren from the underworld sent there +to tempt him to some nameless indiscretion that would effectively +shatter his earthly hopes. +</p> + +<p> +The new cook-boy, shuffling in with the lamp, was the most welcome +sound he ever remembered hearing. +</p> + +<p> +She drew herself upright without his assistance and perched herself on +the edge of the table, accomplishing each movement with an ease and +grace that was remarkable in a woman in the early stages of +convalescence. +</p> + +<p> +The servant hung the lamp on a hook screwed into a beam and +manipulated the wick until the centre portion of the broad verandah +was bathed in yellow radiance. +</p> + +<p> +“Hot water, Chong-Si,” said the magistrate briefly, and the Chinaman +withdrew. +</p> + +<p> +“So it <i>was</i> your Butterfly?” he asked suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +A rippling laugh escaped her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my poor Michael, and if you do not return it to me to-night, I +promise you I shall conjure up every ounce of feminine spite at my +command, and tell that brown-haired girl all about our romantic little +dance at Rembakut.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer winced. He was beginning to realise that, during her illness, +a subtle change had come over her. Even before the tragedy at +Bukit-Serang she had conducted her rather indiscriminate love affairs +in a way that deceived nobody but her husband; but there had been, +nevertheless, certain glimmerings of delicacy and reserve, which now +appeared to be entirely missing. There was an added hardness to her +voice, too, which puzzled him. +</p> + +<p> +He placed his back firmly against a post and folded his arms. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you want it back? Considering its associations, I should have +imagined it about the last thing you would ever want to see again.” +</p> + +<p> +She hooked a cigarette from the tin he always kept on the table, and +held out a hand for matches. +</p> + +<p> +“Associations!” she echoed mockingly, “what on earth are its +associations to me? It’s a beautiful thing and I like it.” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid it is entirely out of the question, Mrs. Battiscombe. It +left my possession some days ago and will probably never come into it +again.” +</p> + +<p> +She slipped from her perch and came right up to him, her eyes never +leaving his face. +</p> + +<p> +“You are lying to me,” she cried hoarsely. “You have it here—in the +house somewhere. I must have it, I tell you; it belongs to me.” +</p> + +<p> +She threw a glance round the verandah as if contemplating a thorough +search for the missing ornament. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer felt for his pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you I haven’t got it,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“But you have; you can’t have sent it away. You found it over +there—where Dick died.” +</p> + +<p> +He pressed the tobacco firmly home with his forefinger. He was +beginning to feel himself again and was relieved to discover that this +new Vera seemed a good deal less dangerous at the outset than the old. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s perfectly correct. I found the Butterfly on Moberly’s table +and brought it here; but it’s not here now and hasn’t been for some +days.” +</p> + +<p> +She clutched at his arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Michael! Stop teasing me! You have locked it away in some drawer.” +She began pleading with him, fondling him, coaxing him with all the +nauseous persistence of a confirmed drug-taker. “You don’t understand +what it means to me—this thing. It is essential to me for my +health—for everything. Without it, I believe I shall die…” +</p> + +<p> +This fresh attitude of hers presented too good an opportunity to be +allowed to pass by. He resolved to ignore the professor’s advice and +endeavour to glean a little information. Considering that she had +mentioned Dick first, he could not see what harm a few questions would +do. +</p> + +<p> +“The pendant was in Moberly’s possession when we found it and it will +probably go with the rest of his effects to his wife.” +</p> + +<p> +A wild look flashed into her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” she cried, “they mustn’t do that; you must stop them. Ann +Moberly mustn’t have it. It belongs to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer nodded gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“But you sent it back to Dick—and it was his property when he died,” +he reminded her. +</p> + +<p> +She stiffened suddenly and stared into the night. Presently her head +came slowly round. +</p> + +<p> +“Michael,” she whispered, “I want you to believe me, and to respect my +confidence. That night when you rode to Rembakut—and kissed me—was a +red-letter day in my life. After Dick and the others, it was simply +wonderful to think that a great, strong, clean man like yourself could +care for me. There were Dick’s presents and one other—this Butterfly +pendant, I had accepted it in a moment of weakness and feared that to +send it back to him would be to open up a correspondence with him +again. I didn’t want to do that. I felt myself standing at the gateway +of a new life. I didn’t want these men’s presents any longer; I just +wanted <i>you</i>. Jim had been drinking and kept grumbling about my +friendship for Dick, and suddenly I saw that this was my one +opportunity of gracefully shutting the door on him. I declared I would +return everything he had given me, and slipped the pendant into the +parcel as well. After it had gone I was haunted with the thought that +Dick might return it and there would be further complications with +Jim. I rode over to get it back from him myself. You know the rest, +don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +She dropped wearily into a chair. +</p> + +<p> +There was no sound for some moments but the regular puffing of the +magistrate at his pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“Then Moberly didn’t give you the Crimson Butterfly?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +Her head was buried in her hands and the answer came to him through +her fingers. +</p> + +<p> +“It came from a man you disliked?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why are you so mortally anxious to have it back again?” +</p> + +<p> +She withdrew her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Because,” she told him steadily, “I have had letters from this man, +demanding it and threatening to see Jim if it is not returned.” +</p> + +<p> +A broad ray of daylight filtered into his brain. +</p> + +<p> +“He has been writing to you here?” +</p> + +<p> +She moved impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you persist in questioning me like this. I have been ill.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to answer this because I fancy I may be able to help you.” +</p> + +<p> +She dropped her hands helplessly into her lap. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he has written to me here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good! That’s all I wanted to know. Now, Mrs. Battiscombe, if you will +bring me one of those letters and show me the address from which he +writes, I think I can safely predict that your troubles will be at an +end.” +</p> + +<p> +Chong-Si appeared at the living-room door. +</p> + +<p> +“Your bath is ready, <i>Tuan</i>,” he announced. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Baik-lah</i>! I will be there in a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +The man vanished. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer looked round to find Mrs. Battiscombe in tears. +</p> + +<p> +She was using every artifice to induce him to surrender the Crimson +Butterfly, which was really rather pitiful in its way, because, as he +had already tried to make her believe, the pendant had passed from his +keeping a week ago. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear woman,” he protested; “it’s no earthly use upsetting +yourself. It doesn’t matter to me one iota what this man was to you; I +merely want his address.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me my Butterfly,” she sobbed, “and let me send it myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, look here,” he said sternly, “we’ve been at loggerheads over +this wretched ornament for quite long enough. I haven’t got it, and, +for reasons which I believe you partly understand, I never want to +handle it again. The best thing you can do, in your own interests and +those of your husband, is to make a clean breast of the whole matter. +I want you to tell me how the Butterfly pendant killed Dick Moberly.” +</p> + +<p> +She stared at him wildly. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean? Why do you stare at me like that?—I didn’t kill +him; surely you don’t think that?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer controlled his features with an effort. +</p> + +<p> +“We have been waiting for you to recover,” he told her, “so that you +might be able to clear yourself. The Butterfly pendant has in some way +been associated with the deaths of two people—and the person actually +in possession of it immediately before these tragedies—was yourself. +Now will you show me those letters?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have burnt them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you tell me the address to which you intended sending the +ornament?” +</p> + +<p> +The fit of sobbing vanished as easily as it had come. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she said defiantly, “never, never, never!” +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to suggest that there never were any such letters.” +</p> + +<p> +She half rose from her chair. +</p> + +<p> +“How dare you!” +</p> + +<p> +She sank back again, feigning exhaustion. +</p> + +<p> +“You have told me several conflicting things this evening,” he +continued, “and I am about to sort from them what I consider to be the +actual state of affairs. You were tired of Dick Moberly and sent that +charm to him with his presents, fully cognisant of what the result +would be. A little later you repented and rode madly from Rembakut to +Bukit-Serang, hoping to be in time to prevent a tragedy.” +</p> + +<p> +She sprang to her feet, her eyes blazing. +</p> + +<p> +“God!” she screamed at him, “I hate you! I knew nothing of its powers. +I had only had it since the afternoon. The man told me, jokingly, that +it was a charm which would help me to accomplish my desires. In a +stupid moment I wished Dick dead—and a superstitious feeling made me +ride over to get the thing back from him. I never knew he would +die—like that. I didn’t want him to die. It was such a shock to me +that I have been ill ever since.” She fell back again and lay gazing +dry-eyed at the ceiling. “And while I have been ill,” she continued +brokenly, “all this has been said against me! But, Michael, I am +innocent; you know that I am innocent.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want the address of the man who gave you that charm,” pursued the +magistrate relentlessly. +</p> + +<p> +“I lied to you,” she confessed. “He has never written to me in his +life. He calls to me when I am sleeping, he beckons to me and I see +behind him the brazier in the wilderness and the red butterflies. On +the night when I slept with the Butterfly at my throat I had no +dreams. That is why I ask you to give it back to me. I am suffering +all the tortures of the damned.” +</p> + +<p> +His pipe had gone out and he knew that the water in the little +bathroom annexe was turning from lukewarm to cold. In the living-room +Chong-Si moved softly, with every now and then a jingling of forks and +spoons as he arranged them for the evening meal. +</p> + +<p> +There floated back to Armourer a memory of a sentence Joyce had +written down for him on a card: “<i>I am a goddess</i>,” Vera had said in +her delirium, “<i>and my kiss is death!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +In a dim sort of fashion he was beginning to understand. He shuddered +to think of the risk he had run during that mad evening on +Battiscombe’s verandah. Her kiss might well have been death then, had +a butterfly been released to fly in quest of its own image! +</p> + +<p> +“The professor has the pendant,” he said at length. “He is employing +it for some experiment in the little laboratory we have managed to fix +up for him. I am sorry, Mrs. Battiscombe, if I have upset you. None of +us actually supposed that you killed Dick Moberly. I shall be able to +tell them that you were merely an instrument.” +</p> + +<p> +She bent forward. +</p> + +<p> +“Whose instrument?” she inquired fearfully, trying to discover how +much he knew. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Abu-Samar’s</i>,” said Armourer steadily—and Vera Battiscombe hid her +face. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch22"> +CHAPTER XXII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Disappearance of Mrs. Battiscombe</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">As</span> Armourer dressed himself slowly for the evening meal, feeling +clean and refreshed after his bath, he pondered over the various +phases of his interview with Vera. +</p> + +<p> +Abu-Samar had given her the Crimson Butterfly; that fact he regarded +as completely established. He had given it her on the afternoon of the +day preceding Moberly’s death, she had worn it when he danced with +her, and Jim had discovered it later. To avoid mentioning Samar, she +had included this ornament with Dick’s presents when she returned +them, and to prevent the planter sending it back again, she had ridden +over to explain her position. She had not expected a tragedy; but the +discovery of the dead man and the mark on his face had immediately +recalled to her memory Abu-Samar’s statement that the Butterfly was a +charm that would enable her to attain her desires—and her own foolish +wish, expressed in a weak moment, that Moberly should die. +</p> + +<p> +He tilted back the mirror so that he could see to brush his hair. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed to him that this was the only sensible way of regarding her +part in the affair. +</p> + +<p> +The extent of her friendship with Abu-Samar was no affair of his. He +was concerned with the chain of events leading up to the tragedy at +Bukit-Serang and the later tragedy at his own house—and the chain, +weird, fantastic, incredible as it was, was almost complete. +</p> + +<p> +Abu-Samar, desiring to revenge himself upon Battiscombe for an insult, +had played upon Vera’s notorious love of admiration and costly gifts +to ensure that the talisman that somehow attracted these poisonous +insects should be taken to the magistrate’s house. Following upon a +peculiar sequence of events for which he could not possibly have +allowed, the pendant found its way to Moberly’s bungalow, and the +butterfly, when released, brought about the decease of the wrong man. +</p> + +<p> +Professor Standen would have to supply details that would strengthen +certain of the links. +</p> + +<p> +It remained to be discovered what singular attractive properties the +ornament possessed, and why Mrs. Battiscombe should be immune from +attack. The fact that both the victims were men he regarded as merely +an accident. +</p> + +<p> +Abu-Samar—that arch-criminal, hypnotist, producer of colossal +illusions—had concentrated upon his art until he had succeeded in +producing a masterpiece. As Standen had said, it was a trick, +accomplished in the broad light of day without the aid of mirrors, +traps, or any of the recognised <i>apparata</i> of the Western illusionist, +but still unworthy of any more dignified title than a trick. +</p> + +<p> +And, in common with his more civilised prototype, he was dependent +upon an accomplice and upon certain conditions. Without Mrs. +Battiscombe he could not have counted upon the Butterfly pendant being +in its desired position, and with the pendant kept at a safe distance +from his intended victims, he was unable to produce the trick at all. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer rubbed his hands together and took a final look at himself in +the glass. +</p> + +<p> +Things were beginning to simmer down. Provided that reasonable care +were exerted, a repetition of the affair at Bukit-Serang was next to +impossible, and all that remained to be done was to capture Abu-Samar. +Unless—and the thought rendered him uneasy—the magician, driven into +the backwoods and becoming desperate, were to let loose a cloud of +these insects to wreak indiscriminate vengeance upon anybody who +should come in their way. +</p> + +<p> +Here they were dependent upon Professor Standen too. A powerful +antidote would in this case be the only hope to avert a catastrophe +which was too ghastly to contemplate seriously. +</p> + +<p> +The Butterfly ornament on its filigree chain might, in addition to +directing the movements of the real butterfly, render it more than +usually vindictive; but, even without the ornament, he could not lose +sight of the fact that these creatures were still saturated with venom +from wing-tip to wing-tip and still at liberty to make use of their +fatal powers upon the slightest provocation. +</p> + +<p> +As he strolled out on to the verandah he caught himself hoping that +the professor’s experiments were making headway in the right +direction. He hoped, too, that Jimmy Battiscombe—with his rooted +aversion to leeches—had been dispatched upon a false scent. It would +be particularly unpleasant to come suddenly upon the black magician +and his vile collection of unclean insects without being prepared with +something that could be counted upon to counteract the effects of the +poison. +</p> + +<p> +He found Chong-Si at the living-room doorway. +</p> + +<p> +“The <i>mem</i> is tired,” he informed his master; “she will not eat.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer walked to the rail and, leaning his hands on it, stared into +the night. He had expected this. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, Chong-Si,” he said over his shoulder. “Take some food to +her room and then get my dinner as quickly as possible.” +</p> + +<p> +The terriers stole up the stairs, Mick carrying a small rat and Mac +endeavouring to relieve his companion in crime of its ownership. +</p> + +<p> +“Here! Take that thing outside,” recommended their lord and +master—and the procession retreated by the way it had come. +</p> + +<p> +He was glad he had those dogs. Until Joyce had walked into his life, +he had been tolerably contented with his lot. She had been his guest +for little more than a week and now, in her first absence, he was +already beginning to feel unutterably lonely. Looked at from every +reasonable point of view, this phenomenon appeared absurd. He had +never regarded himself seriously as a marrying sort of man; he had had +his work to interest him, the intricacies of native dialect, the +manifold peculiarities and inconsistencies of local character. Even in +the event of his screwing himself up to the point of proposing +matrimony, it was far more likely than not that she would refuse him. +He could scarcely see how she could do otherwise. He had lived so long +alone that he flattered himself he knew his own shortcomings pretty +well. He assumed that these shortcomings were patent to all the +world—more particularly to a beautiful, discerning creature like +Joyce. He was just an ordinary magistrate in very ordinary +surroundings and dependent for his existence upon an ordinary man’s +pay—supplemented by a couple of hundred or so of his own. In the +words of Euclid, the thing was absurd—and yet there was some +obstinate kink in his nature that wouldn’t let him give up hoping. +</p> + +<p> +As he leaned there, gazing down towards the spot where Mick and Mac +still continued their boisterous struggle for the possession of a rat, +a familiar sound broke upon his ears. +</p> + +<p> +He drew himself erect, listening intently. +</p> + +<p> +There was no doubt about it. Somebody on horseback had already left +the trees and was cantering towards the house. +</p> + +<p> +Five minutes later he moistened his lips and called. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, there! That you, Trevor?” +</p> + +<p> +The planter’s assistant came up the steps. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, Armourer! Here I am and here’s my kit.” +</p> + +<p> +He unhitched a haversack and let it fall to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“Just in time for <i>makan</i>; we’re late to-night. I let my bath-water +get cold and Chong-Si had to boil me some more. How are you?” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor found a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“First class, thanks. I got away sooner than I’d expected and took it +into my head to sponge on you for a meal. Yes, I’ll manage a drink, if +you don’t mind. That ride did me a world of good. It’s a sticky sort +of evening.” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate concocted an <i>aperitif</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Get that inside you and we’ll go and eat.” +</p> + +<p> +The other tested and signified his approval with a nod. +</p> + +<p> +“If ever you give up this sort of thing you ought to try a hand at +cocktail-shaking. It’s your line all right! How’s the mystery +progressing?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer lowered his brows. +</p> + +<p> +“Slowly.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Abu?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s still at large. Battiscombe should have been here to-night, but +he’s gone up-country. That’s why I sent for one of you fellows.” He +lowered his voice. “Jimmy doesn’t seem to mind much how or where he +leaves his wife; but <i>I</i> do. You follow me, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor winked. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s still here, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, she’s here, right enough; though I don’t suppose we shall be +favoured with her company to-night. She has signified her intention of +dining in her room. The professor and his daughter are in Jesselton.” +</p> + +<p> +They strolled in to dinner. +</p> + +<p> +“And so,” murmured Trevor as Chong-Si set down the soup, “the +distinguished magistrate has found it necessary to seek moral +support.” +</p> + +<p> +“He has indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +He flicked an insect from the rim of his plate with his thumb-nail. +</p> + +<p> +Trevor looked thoughtful. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I can’t say that I blame you. Mrs. B. would be the most +delightful woman in the world—if she were a little less cosmopolitan +in her tastes. But a flirtation loses half its charm when there’s +every possibility of it developing to something more serious. After +all, there’s no particular fun in attempting to conquer something +that’s in a constant state of surrender. Rather clever for me, what?” +</p> + +<p> +“There are times,” declared his host, “when you verge upon +genius!—Have some more soup?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thanks. Now, if it had been Miss Standen instead of the aforesaid +female, things would have been very different.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer looked up sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” +</p> + +<p> +“You wouldn’t have sent for me.” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate pushed away his plate. +</p> + +<p> +“I should,” he replied slowly. “I should most emphatically have sent +for you; but I shouldn’t have grown particularly anxious if your +duties had detained you until, say, eleven.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor stared at him hard. +</p> + +<p> +“Armourer,” he announced at length, “you’re bitten! You have fallen a +victim to the innocent charms of your dark-eyed visitor. Now isn’t +that just my luck!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be an idiot!” growled the other—and then, in an altered tone: +“You’re not keen on her, really?” +</p> + +<p> +“No—not hopelessly; but I fancy I could have been. Lord! I see it all +now! This desperate effort to preserve appearances, to preserve an +hitherto untarnished reputation! It’s as clear as daylight. What a +cunning old devil you are!” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer was crimsoning beneath the tan. +</p> + +<p> +“You are jumping at conclusions.” +</p> + +<p> +“They don’t need much jumping at. I suppose I ought to offer my +congratulations!” His glance fell upon the bottle before him. “I say, +are we supposed to celebrate an occasion like this with <i>beer</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“Trevor,” said Armourer coldly, “you are not a genius; you never were, +and I see no reason to suppose that you ever will be! You can have +champagne if you like; but I can frankly assure you at the same time +that there’s no need for any celebration. Miss Standen is merely an +extremely welcome guest at Jelandang; nothing more and nothing less.” +</p> + +<p> +He rang the bell. +</p> + +<p> +“Which means,” said the irrepressible Trevor, “that the lady has not +yet been consulted on the subject! Nevertheless, I simply refuse to +refrain from drinking your health in the only fluid worth drinking it +in. Taking into consideration your undeniable dash and <i>élan</i>, I +regard the forthcoming engagement as a <i>fait accompli</i>. Tell Chong-Si +to make it two bottles!” +</p> + +<p> +The servant shuffled in from the kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +“Chong-Si,” ordered Armourer, “bring me two bottles of champagne.” He +detached a key from a ring and tossed it to the cook-boy. “And, +oh—just a minute. You’d better ask the <i>mem</i> if she would care to +take wine. <i>Tahu</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +Chong-Si made off. +</p> + +<p> +He was back again in under two minutes, a bottle in either hand and a +look of consternation on his face. +</p> + +<p> +“The <i>mem</i> has gone out, <i>Tuan</i>,” he stammered. +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate came to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Gone out?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Yah, Tuan.</i> As I went to the cupboard, I saw something pass the door +of the store-room. I looked down the passage—and found that it was +the lady, with something white thrown over her head. She went out by +the back door.” He placed the bottles on the table and groped in the +depths of a pocket. “There was this letter on the tray in the lady’s +room.” +</p> + +<p> +He handed Armourer a note addressed to himself. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch23"> +CHAPTER XXIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Hut in the Trees</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Armourer</span> read the missive through and handed it to Trevor. +</p> + +<p> +“What d’you make of that?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +The other scanned it. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<span class="sc">Dear Michael</span>,” it read, “I can bear it no longer. Whenever I close +my eyes I see him. I see the rocks in the wilderness, the red light +from the brazier—and him, beckoning me. This evening your pitiless +catechism broke down the last rampart of my resistance. The call came +again—and I could only obey. A mysterious <i>something</i> guides my pen +and I have had to force myself to write even these few lines. I find +it impossible to inscribe his name, but you, who have guessed so much +already, will understand. The wretchedness that my follies have +brought to everybody has descended at last upon myself. What ghastly +fate awaits me in the beyond I know not, but if it is because of my +looks that he has sought me I pray that some horrible disease may mar +my features before I encounter him alone. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +“Good-bye.<br> +“<span class="sc">Vera.</span>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Trevor stared at his friend in amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“Holy Moses! what’s it all mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“The <i>him</i>,” said Armourer, “is Abu-Samar. It was he who gave that +ornament to Mrs. Battiscombe.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see; and all this rigmarole about wildernesses and red lights and +somebody calling, what’s all that signify?” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate reached down his hat. +</p> + +<p> +“Abu was never a doctor. His chief stunt is hypnotism. He has +apparently taken advantage of Mrs. Battiscombe’s weak state of health +to impose his will upon her—from a distance. I don’t understand much +about this sort of thing, but I believe it’s quite possible. Looks as +if the champagne’s <i>off</i> for the moment, doesn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor made a wry face. +</p> + +<p> +“Whenever I come to this confounded house of yours, there’s always +some excitement in the wind. A few more experiences of this sort and I +shall begin to believe that our district officers constitute a +particularly energetic and hard-worked body of men! I think my topee’s +on the verandah.” +</p> + +<p> +They went out together by the back way and Chong-Si watched their +movements apprehensively. If any particular thought were uppermost in +his mind at that minute it was probably one concerning the demise of +his immediate predecessor. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer’s first move was to turn out his men and dispatch them with +instructions to scour the neighbourhood thoroughly. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll try the path through the trees first,” he told Trevor, “follow +it as far as your wire and come back by the professor’s shack. She’s +only ten minutes start of us.” +</p> + +<p> +The other nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“She can’t have got far and the white thing over her head should +render her fairly conspicuous in the darkness. Going to ride?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer reflected. +</p> + +<p> +“No. Ponies will only be in the way if we have to leave the track. We +shall be far more comfortable on foot.” +</p> + +<p> +They strode on in silence, filling their pipes as they went. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope we find her all right,” said the magistrate, suddenly. “I feel +kind of responsible for this.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor glanced up at his companion. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s pretty good nonsense, isn’t it? Jim couldn’t expect you to +spend your time in her room.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know all about that; but, you see, I asked her a lot of questions +about the pendant just before <i>makan</i>, and the professor had +previously warned me not to do so. It might quite easily be supposed +that my attitude was responsible for her flight. You remember what she +said in the letter about my pitiless catechism.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor struck a match and puffed furiously for some seconds. +</p> + +<p> +“I shouldn’t say anything about that letter. It’s of no value except +to show what state of mind she was in. It doesn’t supply any definite +clue to the direction she’s taken.” +</p> + +<p> +“It doesn’t,” returned the other slowly; “but, if I have made a +mistake, I can take my gruelling with the next man. I don’t fancy I +should care to suppress anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“It might be misunderstood; it struck me as being rather intimate. It +started <i>Michael</i>, I mean—and finished <i>Vera</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer bit his lip. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never written to <i>her</i>,” he protested, “and I can’t very well +help what she chooses to write to me, can I? Besides, Jimmy always +addresses me by my Christian name.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t think he’ll mind?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not particularly. Why should he?” +</p> + +<p> +“And the professor and Miss Standen? Supposing they get to hear of +it?” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate held out his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me the matches, Trevor. Thanks. You’ve a particularly irritating +way of hitting the right nail on the head. I’m not going to commit +myself to destroying or withholding anything, but I shall certainly +think over the wisdom of divulging the contents of that confounded +note. D’you know, Trevor, that woman’s becoming a veritable thorn in +my side.” +</p> + +<p> +“She evidently likes you.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer uttered an exclamation of disgust. +</p> + +<p> +“Then all I can say is I wish she didn’t. Jimmy swears he’ll send her +home as soon as she’s fit to travel, and I shall try and keep him up +to it. She’s a damned dangerous woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Amen’ to that!” added the other, “but we’ve got to find her first.” +</p> + +<p> +They encountered a native in the trees and Armourer questioned him. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you going?” +</p> + +<p> +The man seemed frightened. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Sana</i>,” he muttered, indicating with a dark forefinger the direction +in which a village lay. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you seen anybody on the path or in the forest?” +</p> + +<p> +The creature shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody, <i>Tuan</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody at all? Not a white lady, for example, with a shawl over her +head?” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head again. +</p> + +<p> +“I came from the <i>Kampong</i> on the far side of the hill. There were +girls drawing water from a stream, but after that, nobody.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer shrugged his shoulders and let him go. +</p> + +<p> +He looked at Trevor. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s rather important,” he said. “He must have followed our path +for more than a mile before we met him. She can’t have come this way.” +</p> + +<p> +The other rubbed his chin. +</p> + +<p> +“She may have left the track at some point. I suggest we keep on for, +say, another half-mile.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer shone an electric torch on the ground at his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“The worst of it is,” he complained, “that the earth’s as hard as +nails everywhere. A regiment of soldiers could march along here +without leaving a single foot-mark.” +</p> + +<p> +A hundred yards farther on a man with a hurricane lamp stepped +suddenly from the bushes. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s that?” called Armourer sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“Sembilan, <i>Tuan</i>,” came the startled response, and a little black +private came respectfully to attention. +</p> + +<p> +“Sembilan, is it? Have you found the white lady?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, <i>Tuan-Hakim</i>. The <i>mem</i> is nowhere to be seen; but I have found +this on a thorn-bush.” +</p> + +<p> +He held before them a white silk wrap with a long fringe. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer recognised the scent which still clung to it long before he +had time to examine the texture of the material. +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you find this?” +</p> + +<p> +The soldier pointed behind him. +</p> + +<p> +“Just there, <i>Tuan</i>, but a few moments before you came. The grass had +been trodden down and the track points this way—across the main path +and into the trees on the other side.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carry on, Sembilan,” commanded Armourer, “we will follow.” +</p> + +<p> +They followed their guide through dense undergrowth, parted in places +as if something had recently passed that way. Mosquitoes whined +everywhere, monkeys crooned sleepily overhead, and presently a patch +of cool air brought them to the bed of a trickling forest stream. +</p> + +<p> +Sembilan came back, holding his lamp above his head, and pointed +excitedly at the ground. +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove!” murmured Trevor, “we’re on the right track. That’s a +woman’s heel or I’m a Dutchman. See! There it is again.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer followed the direction of his gaze. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank heaven for that!” he announced presently. “We’ve discovered +something! Don’t hang about there, man, gibbering like an infernal +ape! Get on with it!” +</p> + +<p> +The native grinned and moved forward. +</p> + +<p> +“What the dickens made her take to the jungle?” asked Trevor after a +long pause. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know,” responded the other. “Perhaps she’s following some +course dictated by that scoundrel Abu. She must be in a sort of +trance, or she surely wouldn’t have left this shawl behind.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor was thinking. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll hunt up a map when we get back,” he said, “and draw a line on +it from your place to this point, and on to infinity. If she’s bound +to steer a direct course to where he now is, we might follow that line +until we find him.” He dug Armourer in the ribs. “That’s pretty sound +reasoning, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Marvellous! Any idea where we are now?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, how are you going to find it on the map?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know. I was leaving that to you. Do <i>you</i> know where we are?” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate sucked at an empty pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re about a hundred yards from the professor’s laboratory, and Mrs. +Battiscombe in her wanderings has covered three parts of a circle. +Rather knocks your theory on the head, doesn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +This sudden revelation left Trevor utterly unabashed. +</p> + +<p> +“It was very stupid of me,” he announced cheerfully. “I had forgotten +to allow for feminine instability of character!” +</p> + +<p> +Two minutes brought them to the hut. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer uttered an exclamation and ran the final ten yards. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s up?” demanded Trevor, following suit. +</p> + +<p> +“This,” declared the other, and swung the door to and fro on its +hinges. “The padlock’s been forced off. Sembilan! bring that lamp +inside.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor, picking his way gingerly, was greeted by an odour of chemicals +that set him coughing. +</p> + +<p> +He touched his companion’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a bottle been knocked down here,” he said. “I should be +careful how you go. Some of these things burn.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer held the lamp so that its rays illuminated the roof. He +pointed to a few links of gold chain that still swung from a hook. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what she was after, old son. She plagued me for it this +evening. You see, the pendant’s gone.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“But, man alive, she didn’t know where the shack was, she couldn’t +possibly have forced that door—” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate waved his arms in the air. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s no use asking or implying questions. All I can tell you is that +the Crimson Butterfly has gone, that she’s got it on her now—and that +we’ve got to find her and bring her back.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch24"> +CHAPTER XXIV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Goddess of the Butterfly</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">They</span> were making for the open again when, in the light of the +hurricane-lamp Armourer still carried, Trevor noticed something. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a minute!” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate stopped and looked back. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +The planter pointed to the concrete floor of the professor’s +laboratory. The fluid from the broken bottle had formed a dark patch +which had spread—like a fantastic map—halfway across the hut. Both +Englishmen, warned by the pungent odour, had avoided this patch when +they entered, but somebody who had preceded them had been less +cautious. On either side there were vague, smudgy tracks, and at the +far end, the clear imprint of bare toes. +</p> + +<p> +“More than one person has been here,” he said with conviction. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” conceded Armourer; “you’re right there.” +</p> + +<p> +He stepped outside and Trevor heard him engaged in conversation with +Sembilan. +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate thrust his head in at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Come along, old son. This is beginning to get interesting. Sembilan +says there are four distinct tracks outside. Standen, it appears, +employs a good deal of water in his experiments—and slings most of it +out through the doorway. The soft state of the earth outside helps us +enormously. The awkward part of it is that those little half-moons +made by Mrs. Battiscombe’s heels peter out here altogether.” +</p> + +<p> +“Samar sent somebody for her,” suggested Trevor, “and she was carried +from here.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think there’s the least doubt about that. Wherever his +hiding-place happens to be, it’s sure to be at a considerable +distance—and he could hardly have expected her to walk.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor was stooping down, both hands on his knees. +</p> + +<p> +“Can your fellow tell us the direction they’ve taken?” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil of it is he’s found two tracks, both clearly marked, and +leading in different directions.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor pursed up his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Sembilan must be a pretty smart chap at the game, for I can’t see a +damn’ thing beyond a few smudgy foot-prints just where we’re standing. +The only conclusion I can come to is that the two paths were +deliberately made so as to throw us off the scent. There were four +tracks—or, rather, four sets of footmarks—you said. Those of Mrs. +Battiscombe and three others. I suggest that, to ensure a smart +getaway, Abu dispatched a couple of hefty men with a <i>pikul</i>—and a +third to hang around and make false paths to confuse us. Possibly this +third native met her close to your house and induced her to follow +that queer roundabout way through the trees, rather than keep to the +path. When they split up outside here, the bearers and Mrs. +Battiscombe must obviously have gone in one direction—and the +remaining native in the other. The larger party should naturally make +the biggest track.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer whistled up his man, who was standing knee-deep in fern and +rank grass, staring solemnly in all directions. +</p> + +<p> +“The <i>Tuan</i> Trevor thinks that three people went by one path and only +one by another.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Yah, Tuan</i>, that is so. The one who was alone came first and went +away alone. After a little while the white lady came with two men.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor rubbed the back of his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, how the dickens does he know that?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Sembilan has a gift for this sort of thing.” He turned to the +soldier. “Very well, we will follow the main track.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not divide?” suggested his friend. “One of us could take +Sembilan—and the other go alone. For all we know, the lonely +gentleman may prove an important witness. If he arrived on the scene +first, it is probably he who forced the lock and pinched the pendant.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go alone,” said Armourer promptly. “I know my way about here +better than you do. If anybody can follow the marks left by Mrs. +Battiscombe’s bearers, it’s Sembilan. You’ll be safe enough with him. +You’d better get along as fast as you can.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” protested Trevor, “you won’t be able to follow the other route +without an intelligent native to help you.” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you bother about me. I shall get in touch with one of my men +inside a quarter of an hour—and the professor’s shack is a good +pushing-off point. Have you got a gun?” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor grinned. +</p> + +<p> +“I have. Vance makes us all carry ’em now. The obvious inference is +that they’re for shooting butterflies! Cheerio!” +</p> + +<p> +“You know what you’re after,” Armourer shouted after him. “You’ve to +bring back Mrs. Battiscombe by hook or by crook. If Abu’s fellows show +any sign of resistance—shoot ’em! But try and keep one of them alive +until I can interview him as to Abu’s whereabouts.” +</p> + +<p> +He stood for some minutes watching the hurricane-lamp bobbing its way +out of sight among the trees, then tested his torch to reassure +himself as to the amount of <i>juice</i> left in the battery. +</p> + +<p> +His pipe had gone out and he filled and lit it again. +</p> + +<p> +He was in two minds as to what his next move should be. He was still a +fair distance from his bungalow, and all his men, with the exception +of an orderly on duty and the cook-boy, were presumably still scouring +the district. If he decided to make his way back, he would run the +risk of missing the whole bunch of them and wasting valuable time. If +he endeavoured to follow the single native alone, it was ten chances +to one he would lose himself and his quarry into the bargain. In a +case of this sort, he was obliged to acknowledge the superiority of +native intelligence. +</p> + +<p> +Impatient as he was to accomplish something definite, he decided to +wait where he was. Sembilan had hit upon the route Mrs. Battiscombe +had taken, and, even without the evidence of the shawl on the +thorn-bush, it was more than probable some of the others would follow +suit. +</p> + +<p> +It was dark under the trees and, accustomed as his eyes had grown to +the gloom, he could only recognise objects at a few paces. The forest +seemed never still. There was a constant rustling, varied at intervals +by queer, crashing sounds, the piercing shriek of a night-bird, and a +weird groaning as branches high above him worked upon each other, +swayed by the breeze that had suddenly sprung up. +</p> + +<p> +He set his back against a trunk and tried to forget that there were +comfortable chairs at Jelandang, an unfinished meal and two unopened +bottles of champagne. +</p> + +<p> +Five minutes passed… ten… fifteen. +</p> + +<p> +His pipe went out again and he did not bother to replenish it. He +gazed all round him. There were no signs of his men, no footsteps, +distant voices—nothing.… Just that incessant modulated chorus of +jungle sounds: nothing more. +</p> + +<p> +It was beginning to get monotonous. +</p> + +<p> +For want of something better to do, he sauntered back into Standen’s +laboratory and flashed his torch over rough shelves stocked with +bottles, crucibles, lengths of glass tubing and measures. There was a +heap of papers in a corner of the bench, covered with neat groupings +of mysterious hieroglyphics, a tin-lid that had been used as an +ash-tray, and a rack of test-tubes of varying sizes. Tucked under the +bench he found kerosene-tins, some empty, some filled with water, and +a miniature Primus stove. +</p> + +<p> +It astonished him to discover how much the professor had succeeded in +raking together in the course of a few days. +</p> + +<p> +He looked at his watch. +</p> + +<p> +Trevor had been gone nearly half an hour. He wondered how he was +getting on. He wished now that he had gone with him. It seemed so +futile, waiting there—and yet he could not see what else he could +have done under the circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +The breeze was blowing harder now and the atmosphere was growing +chill. He turned up his collar. +</p> + +<p> +Another five minutes and he would go in search of his men. +</p> + +<p> +He was not an habitually nervous man and yet he hated the idea of +switching off that light. He tried the experiment and turned it on +again. +</p> + +<p> +As he did so, the pale rays were reflected in some bright object on +the floor by the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +He stooped and picked it up. +</p> + +<p> +It was a narrow, fluted circlet of gold, the size of a bracelet, and +broken to allow it to be fitted over the ankle of a native girl. He +had seen many of these things before, but never wrought is so precious +a metal. +</p> + +<p> +The light went out again and he remained in the darkness thinking +deeply. +</p> + +<p> +Even Sembilan’s jungle wisdom had failed to reveal this. One of the +nocturnal visitors to the hut had been a native woman. +</p> + +<p> +The discovery puzzled Armourer. +</p> + +<p> +Abu-Samar would not have dispatched a woman to help to carry Mrs. +Battiscombe. Could it be possible that the knowledge that the pendant +was kept unguarded there had got abroad, and that some brown-skinned +maiden from the locality had decided to steal it for its beauty. +Assuming such a possibility to be correct, it was doubly strange that +she should have chosen so momentous a night for her raid. What, too, +had caused the wrench that forced this mysterious female to part with +her anklet? +</p> + +<p> +He shone his light on the dark patch of fluid on the floor and tested +it gingerly with a finger-tip. He uttered an exclamation and wiped it +hastily on his coat. +</p> + +<p> +She had stepped into the chemical and burnt her foot. Clutching wildly +at the injured member, the anklet had been torn off and forgotten in +her momentary agony. +</p> + +<p> +He went to the door, slipping the torch into his pocket. Moonlight was +filtering through the trees, throwing ghostly patches of jet shadow, +describing a barbaric patchwork of black and gold. +</p> + +<p> +He stepped quickly back, feeling for the automatic at his hip. +</p> + +<p> +Some large object had passed between two trees not a score of feet +from the hut. +</p> + +<p> +Every nerve alert, he waited. +</p> + +<p> +It was coming closer… he could hear it now… soft, padding steps in +the open. +</p> + +<p> +He hazarded a look. +</p> + +<p> +A vague indefinite body, that might have been a man or even a giant +ape, stooped and grunted almost on the threshold. +</p> + +<p> +He levelled his pistol and flashed on the torch at the same time. +</p> + +<p> +A shrill scream pierced his ears, two arms swept wildly heavenward, +and a native woman stood erect before him, writhing and moaning in +mortal terror. +</p> + +<p> +She was lithe, and better-looking than the majority of her kind; there +were ornaments of silver and gold at her ears and wrists and the +Crimson Butterfly, the ends of its chain held together by a strip of +leather, hung at her throat. +</p> + +<p> +He caught her arm and threw her roughly behind him into the shack. He +fixed the switch of his pocket-lamp and rested it on its side on the +bench, then produced the anklet he had found. +</p> + +<p> +At the sight if it she uttered a joyful cry. +</p> + +<p> +“That is mine,” she whispered hoarsely; “I came back to find it.” +</p> + +<p> +He touched the ornament at her throat with his forefinger. +</p> + +<p> +“And that?” he demanded. “How came you by that?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is mine, too,” she told him defiantly. “It was stolen from me +and given to another woman, and for a time I did nothing because I was +afraid. There is a devil in this thing, O <i>Tuan-Hakim</i>, but while I +wear it the devil is silent. While I go free there is peace in the +forest and in the open lands beyond the forest; but he who seeks to +harm me—dies!” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate tucked his revolver out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +She held herself proudly, the crimson ornament sparkling at her neck. +</p> + +<p> +“I am she who men call Dara, whose home is where no trees grow, where +there is a tall hill and a fire that never burns out. I am the goddess +of the Crimson Butterfly.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer scratched his chin. +</p> + +<p> +He stood for some moments looking at her, then picked up his torch. +</p> + +<p> +Presently a smile illuminated his features and a great hope rose +within him, warming his blood and surging to his head like strong +wine. +</p> + +<p> +“Come with me, Dara,” he said softly. “I have been seeking you for a +long while.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch25"> +CHAPTER XXV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Outnumbered</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Arnold</span> Trevor, hot on the track of Abu-Samar’s men, found it +increasingly difficult to keep up with his guide. +</p> + +<p> +Sembilan had divested himself of the boots his uniform included and, +knotting the laces together, carried them over one shoulder. The +stiffness of military training had gone out of him and once more he +was the savage, discovering passages through the dense undergrowth +where none seemed to exist, crouching, leaping, swinging himself on to +low branches like an ape to assist him in clearing the more formidable +obstacles that came in his way. +</p> + +<p> +In the soft earth by the bed of a miniature cataract, where giant fern +and lush weed grew in rank profusion, he threw himself on his face and +deciphered the impressions in the soil as a short-sighted student +might peruse a book. +</p> + +<p> +“Found anything?” demanded the Englishman breathlessly. +</p> + +<p> +Sembilan drew himself into a squatting position and his dark face +turned upwards. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Yah, Tuan.</i> There are signs everywhere. Here they have walked—and +here; and there, on the other side of the water, there are many marks. +They have taken this direction.” +</p> + +<p> +And he began running along the bed of the torrent, forging uphill +where brown rocks showed amid a broken carpet of luxuriant moss. +</p> + +<p> +Trevor struggled after him. +</p> + +<p> +They came presently to the summit of a hill and stood gazing across a +stretch of open country bathed in yellow moonlight, pitted with holes, +tossed and denuded by some far-off volcanic shock. A hundred yards to +the eastward yawned a gaping chasm and, on the far side, two figures +had just emerged, carrying something swung from a pole that stretched +between them. +</p> + +<p> +The soldier put his hands to his mouth and let forth a wild, +discordant yell that echoed and re-echoed as if a thousand demon +voices had hurled it back at them in mocking derision. +</p> + +<p> +The foremost of the bearers turned his head and, a second after, both +began running towards the belt of trees beyond. +</p> + +<p> +Before Trevor could stop him Sembilan had unslung his rifle and fired. +A second shot followed the first and the nearest native stumbled +forward on to his knees, dropping his end of the <i>pikul</i> to the +ground. +</p> + +<p> +His companion crouched low and, shouldering the rough hammock, pole +and all, slid down a steep bank out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +Trevor and Sembilan came to their feet together and ran for all they +were worth. The brink of the chasm held them up for a couple of +minutes, for its depths defied the moonlight and the path by which the +others had travelled was difficult to find. +</p> + +<p> +By the time they had crossed, their quarry had reached the trees. +</p> + +<p> +The planter paused by the side of the man whom Sembilan had shot and +marvelled at the accuracy of the soldier’s firing. The native was +still kneeling, his head against a boulder, and it took but a moment +to discover that he was dead. +</p> + +<p> +Trevor looked up to see that his dusky companion was still pressing +forward, and that he was in imminent danger of losing sight of him in +the forest towards which he was now heading. +</p> + +<p> +He swore softly to himself, sprinted for a couple of hundred yards, +tripped over a rock and fell, recovered himself, bruised and battered, +and resumed the pursuit again. +</p> + +<p> +Sembilan had vanished altogether, but he thought he knew the point in +the leafy screen through which he had passed. At all costs he must +find him. To be left alone in this ghastly wilderness would be tragedy +indeed. He was entirely without provisions and might wander for days +before he found his way to any civilised habitation. +</p> + +<p> +The moon passed behind a cloudbank with the trees still an appreciable +distance from him. He halted and stared round him blankly. Against a +pall of blackness a faint light shone. Sembilan’s hurricane-lamp! A +feeling of intense relief surging within him, Trevor hastened towards +the light. +</p> + +<p> +He found it presently, just the lamp, but no Sembilan! The man’s +intelligence had recognised his difficulty and left the lamp there to +guide him. He grabbed at the handle gratefully. Armourer had been +right when he had told him he would be safe with Sembilan. The little +soldier with the quaint round hat strapped under his chin was a host +in himself. +</p> + +<p> +The trees were taller here and the dense undergrowth of the more +stunted forests had given way to a moss which, though soft to the +feet, it was difficult to make progress over. +</p> + +<p> +A movement to his right made him hold the lamp above his head and, to +his intense horror, he saw an immense ape, standing in the fork of a +tree, staring stupidly down at him. The thing gibbered at him, smiting +its great chest until it resounded like a drum, and the planter, +knowing well that a bad shot would produce unpleasant complications, +slithered on in a panic. +</p> + +<p> +If he had once pined for adventure, he was wallowing in it now to a +degree far greater than he had bargained for! +</p> + +<p> +Something was going on ahead of him. He could hear extraordinary +grunting sounds, the noise of heavy bodies being dragged about among +the dried leaves… a hoarse panting for breath. With the memory of +that horror in the branches, it occurred to him that he might have +plunged upon a colony of these creatures, and that in the event of +such being the case his prospects of survival were singularly small. +</p> + +<p> +He turned completely round, swinging the lamp so that it threw its +light over a large area. +</p> + +<p> +He saw them now—two dark figures wrestling on the ground—and one of +these he recognised as Sembilan. +</p> + +<p> +As he plunged with a wild cry to his assistance, something swept his +cheek so closely that he felt the breath of it—and the lamp was +dashed from his hand. +</p> + +<p> +The impact of the blow set him stumbling. +</p> + +<p> +Supporting himself on one hand, he wrenched his revolver free from the +pocket in which he carried it, and fired into the shadowy mass that +hovered over him. +</p> + +<p> +The mass swayed away from him, uttering wild, unearthly yells that +woke the hairy denizens of the trees and sent them screaming and +whining in chorus. +</p> + +<p> +He heard Sembilan calling. +</p> + +<p> +“Quick, <i>Tuan</i>! The light!” +</p> + +<p> +He groped around him until he found it and, lifting what remained of +the glass chimney, applied a match to the wick. Presently a corner of +it caught the flame and he dropped the glass. +</p> + +<p> +Sembilan was kneeling over the prostrate form of a man—and Trevor’s +antagonist was nowhere to be seen. +</p> + +<p> +As the planter approached, the soldier rose slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Dead!” he declared grimly. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is it?” asked the Englishman. +</p> + +<p> +Sembilan shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Who shall say?—He leapt on me from a tree as I followed after the +man who carried the <i>mem</i>.” He rubbed his shoulder and screwed up his +face. “He had the strength of a panther—that man!—And yet I killed +him,” he added with pride. “We wrestled for a long time—and then I +tripped him and slipped from his hands. I split his skull with my +rifle-butt—so! There were others in the forest.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” said Trevor. “I fired at one of them myself. Which way have +they taken the <i>mem</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +The soldier shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know, <i>Tuan</i>. Many people have been here to-night and it is +impossible to recognise one track from another. Abu-Samar has sent men +to stop us. They are bigger than the natives at the coast and they +carry poisoned darts and blow-pipes. We must wait for the light.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor rested his back against a tree and mopped his forehead. He was +conscious of acute fatigue and an aching void within, but it went +badly against the grain to give up all hope of rescuing Mrs. +Battiscombe. +</p> + +<p> +“How far are we from dawn?” +</p> + +<p> +Sembilan consulted a patch of sky just visible through the trees. +</p> + +<p> +“More than three hours, <i>Tuan</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“They will have carried the white lady a long way by now?” +</p> + +<p> +“A very long way.” +</p> + +<p> +A deep groan from somewhere close at hand attracted their attention. +</p> + +<p> +Moving warily, Trevor discovered a native doubled up in a hollow +beneath a giant tree. The man was lying in a pool of blood and there +was a hole in his side that the planter could have put his fist in. +</p> + +<p> +“There is your man, <i>Tuan</i>,” said Sembilan. “I think he cannot live +very long.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor devil!” muttered Trevor. +</p> + +<p> +A thought struck him. +</p> + +<p> +“Talk to him, Sembilan; try and get him to say something. He should +know which way they have gone.” +</p> + +<p> +The soldier addressed the man in Malay, in the Dusun dialect, and in a +language Trevor could not follow. +</p> + +<p> +“It is no good, <i>Tuan</i>,” explained Sembilan after a while. “He does +not understand. He belongs to one of those tribes that live in the +heart of the island. He speaks only his own tongue—and who shall say +what that is?” +</p> + +<p> +The creature stiffened suddenly, clutched with both hands at the moss +and lay very still. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Sudah habis</i>!” murmured the soldier. “It is finished, O <i>Tuan</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +He thrust an arm through the sling of his rifle and began threading +his way through the trees. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you going?” asked Trevor. +</p> + +<p> +“Back to the open again. There is no good to be done here. It is not +so easy to shoot a man when he hides behind a tree. If Abu-Samar’s men +come in search of us, there are holes out there where we can lie in +ambush for them and pick them off before they find us with their +blow-pipes.” +</p> + +<p> +The planter hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to see what is beyond the trees,” he told the man +doggedly. +</p> + +<p> +Sembilan shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Baik, Tuan</i>! If you go I will follow, and if you ask me to lead I +will lead; but after the trees there are more trees, and after that +more trees again. Also I know that the men Abu sent have not followed +the other, but are waiting in the shadows.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the <i>mem</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +The soldier shook his head sadly. +</p> + +<p> +“Not even the <i>Tuan-Hakim</i>—who is wise—could bring her back +to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +He reached over suddenly and knocked out the light. +</p> + +<p> +Five minutes later, when they were in the open again, with the stars +shining reassuringly down on them, Trevor turned to Sembilan. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you think you saw?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw shadows,” said the soldier, “long patches of shadow that were +swiftly closing in on us—and the shadows had eyes!” +</p> + +<p> +“There are apes in the forest,” suggested Trevor. +</p> + +<p> +“These were not apes,” retorted Sembilan grimly. +</p> + +<p> +He cast an apprehensive glance over his shoulder and, catching the +planter’s arm, drew him behind a boulder as a shower of tiny objects +pattered to the ground like the first drops of a thunder-shower. +</p> + +<p> +Without waiting for a second occurrence of this phenomenon they ran +until they had placed the chasm between them and their unseen enemy. +</p> + +<p> +“Apes do not use the <i>sumpitan</i>!” announced Sembilan, as they came to +a halt. +</p> + +<p> +They were staring back at the trees, trying to get a glimpse of the +attacking party, when the soldier—who seemed to have eyes all round +his head—touched his companion and pointed to two figures swinging +towards them from behind. +</p> + +<p> +Trevor gripped his revolver-butt tightly, thinking for a moment that +the enemy had outflanked them. +</p> + +<p> +A reassuring remark from Sembilan set him laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the <i>Tuan-Hakim’s</i> men,” he said. “He has sent them after us.” +</p> + +<p> +They ran to meet them. +</p> + +<p> +The taller of the two men saluted and handed Trevor a note from +Armourer: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">My Dear Old Thing</span>, +</p> + +<p> +“Use your own judgment. If you have any hope of success, take these +men with you and go right ahead. I’ll square things with Vance. If, on +the other hand, you have come to a dead-end, come back here at your +leisure. I have made an important capture. I am sending some <i>grub</i> +along. I daresay you can do with it! +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +“<span class="sc">M. Armourer.</span>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +The second man handed him a basket. +</p> + +<p> +It contained a loaf of bread, some butter and cheese, a tin of salmon, +a tin-opener, and an odd assortment of cutlery. +</p> + +<p> +But the thing which amused the planter most was a glowing tribute to +Armourer’s thoughtfulness and sense of humour: it was a bottle of +champagne, the gilded neck of which towered above all the other +contents of the basket! +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch26"> +CHAPTER XXVI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Dara Decides</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Armourer</span> posted a man at either entrance to his house, and, by dint +of patient reasoning with the brown girl, eventually succeeded in +persuading her to accompany him to the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +On the way from the professor’s shack he had discovered a great deal +concerning her character. She was suspicious, of course, obstinate as +only a native can be obstinate, perfectly capable, if bullied, of +maintaining a sullen silence and refusing to utter a syllable even on +pain of torture or death. +</p> + +<p> +He imagined that she had been employed as some sort of priestess at a +shrine and had somehow got it into her head that she was a goddess and +therefore entitled to respect. She walked with her head high, with an +easy swing of the shoulders and a proud, half-ironic smile always +playing at the corners of her mouth. +</p> + +<p> +She was lissom and good-looking, even when regarded from a purely +Western point of view; her hair was black and shining and drawn back +from her forehead to form a long, cylindrical knot behind a +particularly handsome head, and he had detected beneath this knot the +handle of a knife, the long thin blade of which was cunningly +concealed. +</p> + +<p> +It occurred to him that an enormous amount of tact would be required +to induce her to reveal the secrets that lay behind those lustrous +brown eyes. +</p> + +<p> +He tossed a cushion on to the floor and she squatted down on it, never +for a single moment withdrawing her gaze from his face. The +cigarette-tin caught his eye and he held it out to her. +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated, then drew out three together. She was fumbling with two +of them, trying to push them back with the others, when Armourer +spoke: +</p> + +<p> +“Keep them, Dara; you may have need of them. I have many things I want +to say to you to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“The <i>Tuan-Hakim</i> is kind,” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +He lit his own and held the match until the end of her cigarette +glowed hopefully. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know that I am a magistrate?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +The girl smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Because of the soldiers, <i>Tuan</i>, and because once I lived in a house +not very distant from here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Abu-Samar’s?” +</p> + +<p> +She exhaled a wreath of blue smoke and nodded. +</p> + +<p> +For some minutes the magistrate smoked in silence. +</p> + +<p> +Dara was not quite such an enigma after all. She had lived with +Abu-Samar and it was probably in his bungalow that she had learned to +smoke cigarettes. Already he was beginning to see hopes of drawing her +out. +</p> + +<p> +“And yet you are the goddess of the Crimson Butterfly?” +</p> + +<p> +She started. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Yah, Tuan</i>, that is so.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“What was the goddess doing so far from her temple and her people?” +</p> + +<p> +A startled look had crept into her eyes and she gazed round her +apprehensively. +</p> + +<p> +“I am the <i>Tuan-Hakim’s</i> prisoner?” she suggested. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer shook his head slowly from side to side. +</p> + +<p> +“The goddess of the Crimson Butterfly is no man’s prisoner. You are my +guest, little Dara. To-night we will find you a house and a bed and my +soldiers will be on watch outside in case Abu-Samar should come to +steal the Butterfly again.” +</p> + +<p> +She leaned back on her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Abu-Samar is a strange man, <i>Tuan</i>, and very powerful. To him the +weapons of the little brown men are as nothing; walls cannot keep him +out. He comes and he talks and presently he goes again—and even the +dogs do not move in their sleep either at his coming or his going.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You are afraid of Abu-Samar,” he told her, “and because you are +afraid you believe all these things. I, who understand, tell you that +these things are not possible. Samar has two arms and two legs and a +body.” He threw his automatic on to the table. “I need but speak +once—with this—and Abu-Samar will be no more.” +</p> + +<p> +She blinked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Even you—who are wise—do not understand this man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me,” said the magistrate, “all you think I do not know.” +</p> + +<p> +“About what, <i>Tuan</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“About Abu-Samar and the temple in the wilderness where there is +always a fire burning. Tell me how you came to leave that place and go +with Samar.” +</p> + +<p> +She set her lips obstinately. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot.” +</p> + +<p> +He played his trump-card. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Dara: To-night there was a white woman in this house and +Abu-Samar called to her and she went to him. Possibly she will live in +his house, as you have lived; she will wear the ornaments that you +have worn. He will take her to the temple and say to the people who +worship there: ‘See, this woman is very beautiful, more beautiful even +than Dara. She is the real goddess of the Butterfly!’ ” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes opened wide—like saucers—and she sat staring into space as +if endeavouring to visualise the possible consequences of any +confession. A shudder passed through her frame. +</p> + +<p> +“Great <i>Tuan</i>, I was goddess of the Crimson Butterfly. I wore the +ornament at my throat and the big red butterflies flew in the light of +the brazier, hovering there to protect me. There were no other +butterflies anywhere; only those. Then Abu came and saw me. He came +many times after that. He brought presents and presently he spoke to +me. He asked me to leave the temple—to go away with him, and I was +afraid because of his eyes. I told him that the kiss of the goddess +was death, because the butterflies watched over her, and he went away. +He was gone for many moons and suddenly the butterflies left the +temple and flew away. Then Abu returned and took me.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer crushed out his cigarette and felt for his pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“How did he make the butterflies go?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Who can tell, <i>Tuan</i>? Abu has a magic that is very powerful. One +morning when I woke I found that the ornament was gone from my neck. I +spoke to Abu and he said that he wanted it for his magic. When we were +in the house in the trees that was burnt, the white lady came.” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate crossed his legs. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes?—Many times?” +</p> + +<p> +“Once only, <i>Tuan</i>. Abu made her come. He sent me away, but I watched +through a hole in the wall. He took the Crimson Butterfly from a box +and fastened it round her neck. She was very frightened and ran away +into the trees. But she kept the Butterfly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Abu-Samar now?” +</p> + +<p> +She clasped her hands over her ears and rocked to and fro. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not ask me, <i>Tuan</i>. If I were to tell you, Abu would most surely +kill me.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer leaned forward. +</p> + +<p> +“Dara,” he said earnestly, “this man Samar frightens people with his +eyes; that is why you, too, are frightened. Samar has a magic. There +are two kinds of magic, Dara—black magic, which is Samar’s, and white +magic, which is mine. The white magic laughs at the other because it +understands it. In a little while you will find here an old white man +with a beard who has a magic more powerful than either. We shall go to +Abu together, the old man and I, and you shall take us to him. We +shall take with us many men and guns. We shall take this white lady +from Abu and send her across the black waters in an engine-<i>kapal</i>. +Abu we shall bring back in chains. The servants of the British <i>Raj</i> +will sit in judgment over him and hang him from a tall tree—and you +will be goddess of the Crimson Butterfly again.” +</p> + +<p> +He watched her keenly, anxious to discover what impression he had +made. +</p> + +<p> +She squatted there, still swaying a little, gazing thoughtfully at the +boards. +</p> + +<p> +“Before <i>she</i> came,” she said softly, “I was everything to Abu. He +made me many promises. He swore to me that with the magic he had +stolen from the butterflies he would drive the white people from my +country. When they were quite gone he would be king—and I his queen. +The chieftains would be grateful to him and give him gold and ivory +and precious stones—and I should have wonderful things to wear.” +</p> + +<p> +“A king has many wives,” suggested the magistrate. +</p> + +<p> +She looked up at him and her face brightened. +</p> + +<p> +“That is true, <i>Tuan</i>; but I was to be his first wife—always. Now she +is there—and I am alone. Would that I had waited for her in the hut +in the trees—and killed her!” +</p> + +<p> +She rose suddenly and came across to where he sat. Dropping to her +knees by his chair, she clutched at his sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +“If I lead you to him, Great <i>Tuan</i>, will you swear to do all that you +have promised?” +</p> + +<p> +He surveyed her steadily. +</p> + +<p> +“By the word of an Englishman, I swear it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will send her away on a boat that moves without sails, so that +she may never come back to him?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“And to my people in the wilderness you will say: ‘This is Dara—the +real goddess—that was taken from you by the Evil One against her +will. See, I have brought her back to you.’ Then one of them will say +to you: ‘This is not so, for it is written that the kiss of the +goddess is death—that he who takes her—dies.’ And you will show them +the body of Abu!” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer suppressed a smile with difficulty. It amused him to hear +this child of the forest dictating to him the line of action he should +take. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall take you back, Dara,” he agreed without committing himself +too far. “I shall take you to the temple and talk to the wise men. +After I have spoken, they will keep you there. There will be rejoicing +in the villages and they will light fires and beat their gongs because +you have returned. It will be <i>hari besar</i>—a great day, Dara.” +</p> + +<p> +She stretched out an arm and gazed at the many bracelets that hung +from her wrist. A dreamy look came into her eyes and her expression +softened. +</p> + +<p> +“Many men will desire me,” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“And the red butterflies will come back to protect you,” he added, +calling upon his imagination. +</p> + +<p> +She sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Hari besar</i>! and Abu will be dead! It is a great pity, <i>Tuan</i>. I +loved that man more than all others.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer recognised that they were running into dangerous waters. +</p> + +<p> +“The kiss of the goddess is death,” he reminded her quickly. “While he +lives the wise men will not believe that you went away unwillingly. +Abu has travelled far. Perhaps even he will seek out the white lady +again—and forget you.” +</p> + +<p> +She trembled visibly. +</p> + +<p> +“Abu must die!” she cried hoarsely. “I see that he must die.” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate tried not to appear too eager. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid so, Dara. In a day or two you will lead me to where he has +taken the white <i>mem</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Yah, Tuan-Hakim</i>,” she responded slowly, “I will lead you—and you +and the other white man will protect me against him!” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer promised. +</p> + +<p> +He reached over and rang the bell for Chong-Si. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch27"> +CHAPTER XXVII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Armourer Plans an Advance</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">There</span> was no sleep for Armourer that night. +</p> + +<p> +Besides Sembilan and the two soldiers he had dispatched with a note +and provisions for Trevor, the force at his disposal consisted of a +corporal and two men, and from midnight onwards he kept these fully +occupied. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately after his momentous interview with Dara he sent the +corporal to Ketatan station with a wire for the Commissioner and +instructions to await a reply before returning. The remaining two left +at the same time for Vance’s estate, to borrow coolies and collect all +food supplies available in the district. +</p> + +<p> +The task of guarding the brown girl he shared with Chong-Si; but Dara, +far from seeking to escape, appeared anxious to remain in the company +of the white man who had promised to protect her, displaying +restlessness only on the few occasions when his duties compelled him +to leave the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +In company with the two terriers, Chong-Si regarded her presence there +with suspicion. In his experience as a cook-boy to European masters, +native women were only admitted to the living quarters when it was +intended they should become permanent members of the household, and he +had no desire for any black <i>ngi</i> to assist him in administering to +Armourer’s comforts. Apart from this, the Butterfly ornament at her +throat inspired him with a sense of acute uneasiness. +</p> + +<p> +He had heard a vivid and rather exaggerated account of the death of +the man whose place he had taken, and the pendant that Dara wore bore +a striking similarity to the one in the story. Consequently, upon the +few occasions when he was left alone with her, he took care to put the +entire length of the verandah between her and himself. +</p> + +<p> +Mick and Mac—never quite able to forget the proximity of a +stranger—interrupted their slumbers on the long chair with +intermittent barkings and growlings intended to express their +disapproval, and to convey to the girl that she was only there on +sufferance and that at any other time, should it be their good fortune +to encounter her in the open, they would cheerfully combine in a +whole-hearted attempt to deprive her of her <i>sarong</i>! +</p> + +<p> +Dara, on the other hand, with the Crimson Butterfly restored to her +and Armourer’s assurances to lend her courage, treated all these marks +of disapproval with blissful unconcern. Upon the second occasion that +the arrangements for the forthcoming expedition compelled the +magistrate to absent himself, she rose from the floor, possessed +herself of the cigarette-tin, a box of matches and the cushion +Armourer had given her, and curling herself comfortably in a corner, +alternately smoked and dozed. +</p> + +<p> +Once only, when in a waking moment she intercepted a glance from +Chong-Si charged with all the venom and contempt that a low-caste +Chinee is capable of putting into his eyes, did she show signs of +being conscious of his presence. +</p> + +<p> +She responded to his look with interest, lowered her lids, shuffled +herself into a more comfortable position, and spat on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +It was Chong-Si’s first duty of the day to thoroughly clean that +floor, and her action, combined with the knowledge that he was +powerless to call upon her to remove that mark, cause him to writhe +inwardly. +</p> + +<p> +By a freak of doggy psychology, however, Dara’s misdemeanour was +destined to gain her a valuable ally in Mick, the more disreputable of +Armourer’s two dogs. On account of a reprehensible habit of hiding odd +bones and slaughtered vermin in corners of the verandah, Chong-Si and +himself had never been the best of friends, and he could not refrain +from admiring the coolness with which she had committed an offence +dear to his own heart! +</p> + +<p> +He cast a sidelong glance at the servant, descended from the chair and +crept, with ears back, towards the woman. He gained the object of his +desire in a roundabout manner, encircling in his rambling course most +of the articles of furniture on the verandah, sniffed at the floor, +cocked up one ear, backed growlingly from Dara’s first friendly +overtures, and succumbed abjectly to the second. The other terrier +shortly followed suit, and the magistrate, returning by way of the +stairs, found Chong-Si—ill-favoured and obviously ill at +ease—hopelessly outnumbered by a majority of three to one! +</p> + +<p> +Armourer, dropping into a chair, nodded to the servant. “<i>Baik-lah</i>, +Chong-Si! Go and sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +He clasped his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, trying +to discover whether he had forgotten anything vital. +</p> + +<p> +His eye fell on the decanter and he poured himself out a generous +helping, feeling that he had thoroughly earned it. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later Trevor stumbled up the steps and sat down heavily. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, old son! here we are, tired and mudded up to the ears and damn’ +glad to feel a decent floor beneath our feet!” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer pushed over his glass. +</p> + +<p> +“If you want a cigarette, that girl in the corner has them. How did +you get on?” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor groaned. +</p> + +<p> +“We covered a deuce of a lot of ground and indulged in quite a +respectable <i>scrap</i> with some nude fellows armed with blow-pipes; but, +as far as Mrs. Battiscombe is concerned, we failed miserably.” +</p> + +<p> +He accepted a drink, lit his pipe and gave the magistrate the story. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer listened in silence. +</p> + +<p> +At the conclusion of the narrative, he sat bolt upright and, reaching +for the other’s hand, shook it hard. +</p> + +<p> +“Damn’ good man!” he commented. +</p> + +<p> +Trevor appeared surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“But we did nothing,” he protested. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer grinned. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad you call it nothing! I call it a deuce of a lot. I admit you +didn’t pull off the main object of your expedition, but you +accomplished all that could be expected of you and brought back a lot +of valuable information into the bargain. Our lady friend over there +has promised to guide us to Abu’s headquarters, but, in the event of +her failing us at the last moment, we know sufficient land-marks to +enable us to make a good start. More than that, we have learnt that +Abu has a considerable following, the nature of weapons likely to be +employed—and we can take precautions accordingly.” +</p> + +<p> +The planter conjured up a twisted smile. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very decent of you to put it like that, but I can assure you I +don’t feel in the least bit satisfied with myself. To think that a +damned black scoundrel should be able to spirit a white woman from +under our very noses—and get away with it! That’s what gets my goat. +But we were so confoundedly handicapped. There was that confusion in +the beginning, with three or four people making tracks and nobody +quite certain which to follow. When we did make up our minds, it was +jolly rough going. To cap everything, Sembilan—who, by the way, +behaved like a Trojan—was held up by a fellow dropping on him from +the trees. To come down to brass tacks, I suppose <i>you</i> ought to have +gone with Sembilan, and I should have waited by the hut until some +more of your chaps came up.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a bit of it! I shouldn’t have done any better, and quite probably +not so well. You came to the conclusion that any other sensible man +would have arrived at: that your obvious duty, on finding your party +outnumbered, was to trek back for reinforcements. Honour and glory are +two very fine things, and they look uncommonly well in print, but +there are times when a live man with a tongue in his head and a useful +pair of eyes is a damned sight more use than all your defunct heroes! +Our job is to get Mrs. Battiscombe back, and time is certainly an +important factor; but, with a genius like Samar to contend with, it +needs a properly organised expedition.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor suppressed a yawn. +</p> + +<p> +“When are you going to start?” +</p> + +<p> +“As soon as ever I get official sanction from Jesselton. That ought to +be here any minute now. I’ve asked for a few more men and I hope to +get moving before the sun is well up.” +</p> + +<p> +The other’s face fell. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose I’m out of this, as usual?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you believe it! I’m taking the law into my own hands and Vance +will have to put up with being short-handed for a few days.” +</p> + +<p> +“He may decide to come himself; in which case I shall have to run the +estate.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not giving him the chance. Between ourselves, I don’t think he’s +quite the man for this business. We’re bound to encounter +disappointments, and Vance is anything but a cheering companion in +adversity. Also he’s taken Moberly’s death so badly that he’ll want us +to assign him the privilege of dispatching Abu-Samar. My first duty is +to get Samar <i>alive</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor rubbed his hands together. +</p> + +<p> +“D’you know,” he declared, “I’m rather looking forward to this little +outing. I never fancied myself very much as a nigger-driver, but I’m +beginning to believe that hunting down criminals is the job I was +originally intended for. I wonder if you’ve a hundred or so cartridges +that’ll fit this pistol of mine?” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate looked at it. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to be the regulation bore.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you’ll be relieved to learn that I can accommodate you. I +expect you’re tired.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am,” confessed the other. “If you happen to have a spare bed +anywhere, I’ll curl up on it for a couple of hours.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can have three to choose from. I’m not using mine.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor unlaced his boots. +</p> + +<p> +“So that,” he remarked, nodding towards Dara, “is the important +witness?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a bad-looking girl.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer smiled. “I’ve seen worse!” +</p> + +<p> +The planter came to his feet, boots in hand, and threw a final glance +into the corner. Suddenly he started. “D’you see what she’s got on?” +he demanded excitedly. +</p> + +<p> +“The Crimson Butterfly, you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord, yes! I thought we’d lost sight of it for ever. Are you +sure it’s quite all right?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Crimson Butterfly,” said Armourer, “appears to be one of those +things that is quite harmless when it’s in its right place. It happens +to be there at this moment. When you make your next appearance, I’ll +introduce you to Dara—the real goddess of the Crimson Butterfly!” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor whistled. “So you’ve snaffled <i>her</i>, eh? Well, it’s some +consolation to learn that somebody’s done something!” He disappeared +through the doorway of Armourer’s room without another word. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch28"> +CHAPTER XXVIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Antidote</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> Commissioner’s reply was brought to Armourer at a little before +seven. +</p> + +<p> +Like the greater proportion of official messages, it was at once +highly satisfactory and intensely irritating. +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate was ordered to proceed on his expedition against +Abu-Samar with the least delay possible; at the same time, he was on +no account to leave Jelandang before a suitable substitute had arrived +there to take his place. A runner had been dispatched to +Lindsay—whose <i>flying-column</i> was understood to be somewhere in +Armourer’s area—instructing him to proceed immediately to Jelandang. +Armourer was to hand over his duties to him and to take command of his +men—who numbered eleven. Cases of ammunition and rations would be +placed on the morning train, and the magistrate was advised to have +bearers waiting at the nearest halt in readiness to receive them. +</p> + +<p> +The Commissioner was endeavouring to get in touch with Battiscombe, +and Armourer was enjoined to leave a suitable guide at Jelandang who +would proceed to Battiscombe, as soon as his party had been located, +and bring him along in support of the main body. +</p> + +<p> +He folded the letter carefully and thrust it into the upper pocket of +his tunic. Leaning on the verandah-rail, he watched the bustle of +preparation in the clearing below. +</p> + +<p> +A small army of natives, borrowed from a neighbouring village, had +replaced Vance’s coolies. Short, sturdy men, most of them nude from +the waist upwards, who chattered and laughed amid a pyramid of cases, +as if about to embark upon the greatest joy-ride in their experience. +A sturdy corporal, with an expressionless face, was methodically +obtaining order from chaos. Sembilan, as fresh as if he had slept the +round of the clock, was grooming Trevor’s pony, while Armourer’s +mount, already attended to, had wandered to where the grass appeared +to offer the most nutriment. At the foot of the steps a couple of men +were cleaning rifles. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer was turning the contents of Stewart’s letter over in his +mind. It was a comprehensive document, concise and well thought out, +and it gave the magistrate grim satisfaction to reflect that somebody +besides himself had lost many hours of slumber over the Abu-Samar +affair. +</p> + +<p> +The delay irritated him. He had planned, toiled, strained every nerve +to get away with the dawn, and now he found himself compelled to cool +his heels until Lindsay chose to roll up. But argue with himself as he +might, he could not deny the wisdom of waiting for those eleven +additional men. Then there was the question of the cases to be fetched +from the railway. The train was due at the halt at ten minutes past +eleven. More than probably it would be late—and the goods had to be +handled and brought across to the starting-point. More delay! It meant +postponing their departure until after lunch, and perhaps till the +evening, if Lindsay lost his way. With the knowledge that Samar had +men hanging about in the trees, he intended to move in as compact a +body as possible and run no risk of having his supply-column cut off. +</p> + +<p> +Chong-Si brought in the tea. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer poured out two cups and, opening the door of his own room, +carried them to where Trevor still slept. The planter stirred as the +mosquito-curtains parted, and looked up sleepily. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, old son!” +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” responded the magistrate. “How d’you feel?” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor sat up. +</p> + +<p> +“O.K. thanks. What’s the time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Somewhere around half-past seven.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor slid his feet to the ground and took his cup. He stirred it +thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose we’ll be pushing off soon?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see the slightest hope of starting before evening. Stewart +wants me to wait for my relief to arrive. That in itself is damnably +annoying, but he’s bringing us eleven men, for which I suppose we +ought to be thankful. Then there’s a lot of junk to be fetched from +the railway. It won’t be there before eleven, and I thought, if you +didn’t mind, that you might take the bearers over and see they don’t +hang about on the way.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor felt for the slippers he had brought over in his haversack. +“Right you are! I’m game.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall leave two of my own fellows with the new chap and a third to +join Battiscombe and bring him along after us as soon as the +Commissioner locates him. That leaves us fifteen men—eleven of +Lindsay’s and four of mine. Jimmy’s probably taken half a dozen on his +little jaunt, so we ought to have ample for the job.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor blinked. +</p> + +<p> +“Got plenty of ammunition?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve a fair supply already—and there’s more on the way.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the brown girl?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer nodded his head towards the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s still out there. As far as I can gather, she seems fit and +shows no signs of wanting to go back on her bargain. If we can get +away in the cool of the evening, we should make good progress before +nightfall. I haven’t the remotest idea how far we have to go, but it’s +going to be forced marching for everybody until we come in contact +with Abu-Samar’s outposts.” +</p> + +<p> +He took Trevor’s empty cup and, having disembarrassed himself of both, +perched himself on the foot of the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been trying to reason myself into a sensible state of mind +regarding Mrs. Battiscombe’s predicament,” he continued. “She’s in an +unholy mess, of course, but I am inclined to believe she’s in no +immediate danger. You yourself can testify that she had no end of a +rotten trip into the backwoods. From the little I know of the effects +of hypnotism, I understand that it leaves people pretty weak. She was +only convalescent when she bolted from here and, although Jimmy +insists that she has a wonderful constitution, I’m convinced that this +last experience has brought on the fever again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” agreed Trevor, “I fancy you’re right there. Even if she went +away in some sort of a trance, she must have come to her senses by +now, and be scared into the bargain.” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate placed a hand on either knee. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s just how I figure it out. You see, Trevor, that all this +confounded delay, although intensely annoying, means that we shall +have time to collect our wits and organise. We shall move as a +well-equipped, well-provisioned column, instead of straggling along in +little detachments that might come to grief if suddenly surrounded and +cut off by Samar’s men. They’ll get to work with their poisoned darts +in any case, and it’s quite on the cards we’ll have Abu’s collection +of insects to contend with as well; but some of us are bound to get +through. Then there’s the <i>moral</i> effect of a determined punitive +force. Whatever influence our friend has over the tribesmen, they’re +bound to get uneasy when they begin to learn that Mrs. Battiscombe’s +abduction has been regarded, not from the point of view of ransom, but +in a far more serious light.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor began spreading the contents of his haversack over the bed. +“I’ll get dressed at once,” he announced, “and you’d better turn in +for a spell.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I shan’t attempt to sleep before lunch,” he said. “If by that time I +see no prospect of an early departure, I may try and squeeze in a +couple of hours. There’s a deuce of a lot of spade-work to be got +through yet.” +</p> + +<p> +The planter was surveying his mud-stained garments of the night +before. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I’ll have to borrow some clothes. If you happen to have a +suit that’s shrunk in the wash so much the better! You’re a good deal +bigger than me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll see what Chong-Si can do for you,” laughed the magistrate. +</p> + +<p> +He shouted for the servant. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s one thing to be thankful for,” declared Trevor, “and that is +that Jimmy Battiscombe isn’t anywhere in the neighbourhood. He’s gone +through a lot lately and this last bit of news would about bowl him +over.” +</p> + +<p> +Chong-Si appeared at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“The <i>Tuan</i> Trevor wants some clothes,” said his master. “Bring +everything you can find and let him choose for himself.” +</p> + +<p> +The Chinaman reflected for a moment and began pulling open drawers and +diving into the inner mysteries of a zinc-lined trunk. +</p> + +<p> +When Trevor met the train he found, not only the cases he had come +there to collect, but the genial professor and his pretty daughter. +</p> + +<p> +Standen was in great spirits. +</p> + +<p> +“Morning, Trevor!” he shouted from the coach. “So you’ve been raked +into this little affair too?” +</p> + +<p> +The younger man hurried forward to assist Joyce. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as both were on <i>terra firma</i>, Trevor turned to Standen. +</p> + +<p> +“You know what’s happened?” he suggested. +</p> + +<p> +The professor nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“The Commissioner sent me news last night, and I made arrangements to +return immediately. It’s a regrettable state of affairs, of course, +and I feel extremely anxious about Mrs. Battiscombe, but the incident +has brought the Samar business to a head, and I suppose that’s +something.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me your <i>barang</i>,” said Trevor; “my men can carry it up with the +rest of the stuff. How d’you do, Miss Standen? You’ve arrived just in +time to see the start of what promises to be a really interesting +adventure.” +</p> + +<p> +A man poked his head from a window and called. +</p> + +<p> +“Say, Trevor, tell Armourer that young Lindsay’s on his way now and +should be at his place this afternoon. He’ll understand.” +</p> + +<p> +The planter waved an arm. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, Barnes, and many thanks. He’ll be glad to hear it. You +keeping fit?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fit as a fiddle. You look well.” +</p> + +<p> +The train moved on. +</p> + +<p> +They were on their way up the slope, with a straggling line of bearers +behind them, when the professor spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose there is such a thing as luck,” he declared suddenly. +“Abu-Samar’s had it all on his side up to within the last couple of +days—and now it’s swung round to ours.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor glanced up sharply, a puzzled expression on his face. “It’s +swung round, has it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely.” He tapped a large water-bottle which was slung from his +shoulder on a leather strap. “Everything depends on the contents of +this flask. I hit on it yesterday, after countless futile experiments, +and went down to Jesselton to put it to the test. Joyce and I are +joining your expedition—myself because I believe my presence is +essential, and my daughter because she refuses point-blank to be left +behind. Whatever horrors our black magician may have in store for us, +I am ready for him.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor gasped. “You don’t mean to say you’ve found an antidote?” +</p> + +<p> +Standen patted the younger man’s shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s not the least doubt about it.” He beamed all over his face. +“That’s puts a different complexion on affairs, doesn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove, it does!” murmured Trevor. “It ought to prove the +turning-point of everything.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyce laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor old daddy!” she said. “He’s <i>so</i> pleased with himself. +Everybody’s been praising him and trotting round after him—and he +does just love being praised and trotted round after! He’s tried his +marvellous discovery on monkeys and native criminals, and he’s so +delighted with his new toy that I really believe he’d have +experimented on me, if I’d let him!” +</p> + +<p> +The professor shook his head delightedly. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a daughter for you, Mr. Trevor! Her sole object in existence +is to hold her poor old father up to ridicule—but we’ve found the +antidote, my boy, and that’s all that really matters.” +</p> + +<p> +Lindsay reached Jelandang at four and at five-thirty Armourer rode +out, at the head of his column, with a fierce sun on its downward +course and a pleasant breeze shaking the topmost leaves of the palms. +</p> + +<p> +Joyce rode between her father and Trevor, and Lindsay, leaning over +the verandah-rail with two rebellious terriers tethered beside him, +watched them off. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch29"> +CHAPTER XXIX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">In the Clutches of Abu-Samar</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">When</span> Vera Battiscombe came to her senses, she found herself lying on +a sort of hammock made from the entire skin of some animal and +fastened at either end to a wooden frame by means of leathern thongs. +A blanket had been thrown over her, and as soon as she was conscious +of the touch of its rough surface against her neck, she pushed it off +in disgust. +</p> + +<p> +She felt hot and sticky, her limbs ached, and there was an acute pain +behind her eyes, so that she was forced to close them continually, +opening them only at intervals to gaze in bewilderment upon her new +surroundings. +</p> + +<p> +Presently she raised herself on her arms and endeavoured, from a +mingling of memories, thoughts and fears, to discover something that +might account for her presence in so primitive a dwelling. +</p> + +<p> +The room was approximately ten feet square and, except for a heap of +miscellaneous articles ranged along the far wall and partially covered +with a length of sacking, there was scarcely anything in the nature of +furniture. There was a square of coloured matting on the floor, a +roughly carved stool, some odd sacks, which might have contained +grain, and a large earthenware water-jar. +</p> + +<p> +At the foot of her bed, a strip of matting concealed what she surmised +to be the only door; there were no windows and the light filtered in +through great chinks in the walls and gaps in the thatching above. +</p> + +<p> +The watch at her wrist registered a quarter to one, but she discovered +upon a closer examination that it had stopped. +</p> + +<p> +The atmosphere was one of intense heat and from somewhere close at +hand came the incessant buzzing of flies. +</p> + +<p> +She sank back again, one hand pressed to her forehead, and tried to +think. +</p> + +<p> +The throbbing was easier now. Gradually, as she groped for a +starting-point, the picture of Joyce’s room in Armourer’s bungalow +built itself up before her. How had she come to leave it? At some time +or other in her life—it seemed countless ages distant—she had +quarrelled with Michael about something. However her thoughts rambled, +they always came back to that. She had cried, she remembered now, and +gone back to her room. A Chinaman had brought her food—that would be +Chong-Si. She had found a pencil and written, and presently she had +gone out. She remembered that it was dark and that there were stars. +She remembered being frightened under the trees when she found that +she had lost her way, and a queer house with an open door. Something +had made her enter. Queer, disjointed fragments kept coming back to +her. She had been looking for something—something which persisted in +eluding her. +</p> + +<p> +“The Crimson Butterfly!” she exclaimed aloud—and then laughed at her +own folly in voicing what must have been an absurd hallucination—a +dream-phantom. +</p> + +<p> +She thought again. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps this, too, was a dream? In a little while these unfamiliar +surroundings would vanish, and the walls of the sick-room—in which +she must actually be—would take their place. She remembered quite +well that she had been ill—very ill. Joyce had been there, sleeping +in another bed, and the professor, with his scrubby beard and serious +owl-like expression, had hovered over her. She seemed to recollect +that Jim had been there too; she had heard his voice on the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +A lizard, creeping suddenly into a lozenge of sunshine on the wall at +her side, screamed shrilly and she sat bolt upright. +</p> + +<p> +She rubbed her eyes, fingered the leathern thongs curiously, reached +over and pulled at the nearest sack—and a shower of rice pattered to +the floor. +</p> + +<p> +Her clenched fists pressed against her temples. It was real then—all +real! Merciful heaven! What did it all mean? +</p> + +<p> +She looked at her clothes. They were stained, crumpled and torn, and, +except for her shoes, she was in outdoor attire. Becoming curiously +scrupulous as to details, she stared round in search of those shoes. +She looked at the stool. There was something lying on it that she had +not noticed before. She leaned forward. It appeared to be a hat—a red +hat with a black tassel. She wanted to go over to it and examine it, +but her initial attempts to gain her feet sent her staggering stupidly +back on to the couch. +</p> + +<p> +She laughed weakly and suddenly dissolved into tears, her face buried +in her hands. +</p> + +<p> +Presently she choked down her sobs, summoned all the strength at her +command and made a further effort. This time she stumbled on to her +hands, pushed herself up again and finally fell in a heap to the +floor, setting the entire building rocking. +</p> + +<p> +She crawled the remainder of the distance and was within an ace of +touching the hat when horror seized her and she shrank from it as from +some ghastly apparition. +</p> + +<p> +It was a red <i>fez</i>! +</p> + +<p> +Abu-Samar! Where had she heard that name before? Her lips formed the +syllables glibly, as if the name were one which she had voiced +repeatedly. Abu-Samar! A tall man, in a blue suit and that same hat, +standing by a white bridge! A coloured man! It was all coming back to +her now, overwhelming her in great waves. +</p> + +<p> +She had gone to his house; but not this house. There were +orange-coloured curtains and a cedar-wood box brimming over with +precious ornaments that glinted and sparkled in the light. He had +given her a Crimson Butterfly—a ruby thing with emerald eyes, on a +chain of gold filigree. He had clasped it round her neck—and she had +run away, leading her pony after her. There was a blank here which she +strove to fill. She had lost that ornament somehow, found it, then +lost it again. That was why she had wandered out that night into the +trees. She went into the hut because she thought it was there. +Somebody had told her it would be there. +</p> + +<p> +She had wandered from the hut again into the open and shrunk back into +the shelter of a big tree. She had been very tired, had sunk to the +ground exhausted. After that she remembered little, save a sensation +of being whirled into the air by some mysterious force—and rocked +into a deep sleep. This slumber had continued apparently for +centuries, interrupted at intervals by wild nightmares, dreams of +falling from great heights, strange noises and the rushing of waters. +</p> + +<p> +A sense of unutterable loneliness gripped her, and, creeping over on +all fours, she drew back the matting from the opening. The scene that +met her eyes startled her. +</p> + +<p> +The hut in which she was revealed itself as a tree-dwelling, a crazy +crow’s-nest nestling among the branches, with a flimsy ladder leading +down to the ground, twenty or more feet below. Beneath her was the +long thatched roof of another building, to her right a few more +trees—and then, stretching to the horizon, a wilderness of moss-clad +boulders, over the whole expanse of which no living thing was visible. +</p> + +<p> +The mystery was deepening. The landscape was entirely strange to her. +How had she crossed that cheerless desert—and why? What was the +significance of her presence in this lonely, ramshackle dwelling on an +oasis in the midst of utter desolation. +</p> + +<p> +She thrust her head and shoulders forward cautiously, trying to see +what was at the foot of the ladder—and drew herself quickly out of +sight again. +</p> + +<p> +She had seen a colossal native, immobile as an ebony statue, with a +<i>parang</i> sheathed at his side and a spear-shaft nestling in the crook +of his arm! +</p> + +<p> +She was a prisoner; Abu-Samar’s prisoner; for there on the stool was +irrefutable evidence. +</p> + +<p> +She clasped her hands over her knees and rocked to and fro in the +agony of her terror. +</p> + +<p> +And presently, as she crouched there, starting at every sound that +came from the earth below, the house itself or the tree-tops above +her, the jig-saw pieces that had defied her when she sought them crept +into the picture of their own accord and silently filled themselves +in. +</p> + +<p> +As he had prophesied at their first meeting, she had walked from her +own people—and come to him, apparently of her own accord, but in +reality in obedience to an insistent command that he had somehow +succeeded in transmitting through space. He had plagued her, tormented +her, haunted her sleeping and her waking hours until all the barriers +of her resistance had been broken down. +</p> + +<p> +Contrite now and immeasurably sorry for herself, she saw the Gehenna +that her own follies had wrought, stretched out her arms to the cruel +flames, recognising them, acknowledging their right to envelop her. +She had been faithless—faithless to Jim, faithless in a more limited +degree to Dick Moberly, who had paid bitterly for his infatuation. Her +thirst for conquest, her recklessness, her mad desire to employ her +beauty to ensnare every decent man who came in her way, had brought +her to this. +</p> + +<p> +She beat her forehead with her clenched fists in her misery. If there +were indeed a kind fate of any sort watching over her, she promised it +that, in the unlikely event of being snatched from the horror that +threatened her, she would act squarely with Jim for as long as she +lived. +</p> + +<p> +And then she fell the victim to another mood. +</p> + +<p> +After all, a voice within her argued, there must have been countless +women more culpable than she who had never been called upon to face +the consequence of their misdeeds like this. The instincts that had +impelled her to embark upon the course she had followed were inherited +ones, her looks had been given her at birth, the climate that gave men +fever had been her inspiration. This Samar, this primeval savage +masquerading in civilised attire, had planted himself deliberately in +her path, shaking her limited world from its very foundations. +</p> + +<p> +The thought of him made her shudder. She remembered the loathsome +touch of his fingers when he gave her the crimson pendant. And she was +in his power! +</p> + +<p> +She gazed round her helplessly. +</p> + +<p> +She must do something, feign sickness, madness, anything! She ran her +fingers madly through her hair, dishevelling it until she imagined it +encircled her head like an unkempt mop. +</p> + +<p> +She must disfigure herself, make herself so distasteful to him that he +would recoil from her. +</p> + +<p> +She wondered if anywhere among that pile under the sacking there were +a mirror. +</p> + +<p> +She was about to make for it when the sound of voices below brought +her to a standstill. Her heart beating a devil’s tattoo, she listened. +</p> + +<p> +Abu-Samar! The softer tones were surely his and the queer guttural +utterances those of the sentry outside. Somebody was coming up the +ladder. +</p> + +<p> +For seconds she remained there, rooted to the spot. Suddenly, with a +great effort, she threw off the <i>incubus</i> that held her there, and +creeping back to her couch, drew the blanket over her. +</p> + +<p> +Frightened—horribly, genuinely frightened—she watched through +half-closed lids as the strip of matting swung inwards, revealing a +triangle of bright light across which extended an arm in a blue serge +sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +Abu-Samar, bending almost double, came into the room and the matting +dropped back into place. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch30"> +CHAPTER XXX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Abu Explains</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">She</span> lay there, on that rude native couch, delirious with fear, not +daring to glance through her lashes at the man who now bent over her. +</p> + +<p> +An icy chill ran down her spine as his fingers touched her wrist. +</p> + +<p> +“Better,” she heard him murmur in English, “decidedly better. The +pulse is still too rapid. To-morrow, perhaps.” +</p> + +<p> +To-morrow! Grasping in her ocean of trouble at a floating spar, this +word gave her immeasurable consolation. Michael, Jim, all of them +perhaps would be searching for her, and this postponement of her fate +gave them still a few more hours in which to accomplish her rescue. +</p> + +<p> +He was moving about the room now, muttering to himself in a dialect +that was new to her. Presently he dipped a bottle in the water-jar and +she heard the bubbling as the fluid replaced the air. +</p> + +<p> +She hazarded a glance. +</p> + +<p> +He had drawn a gourd from under the sacking and was pouring water into +it from the bottle. He rinsed it and threw the drops to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +As he turned to approach her, she closed her eyes again. +</p> + +<p> +He set both bottle and gourd at her side and retreated to the far end +of the hut. +</p> + +<p> +Presently he came back again, slipped an arm under her and, supporting +her firmly in a sitting position, forced some liquid between her +teeth. It was cold and bitter and she swallowed some of it knowing +that it would not be poison. +</p> + +<p> +He withdrew his arm and she fell back limply on to the bed. A new life +seemed to be coming to her and she was aware of a sensation of +comfort, of inward warmth. +</p> + +<p> +She felt that his eyes were upon her. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit up, Mrs. Battiscombe,” he commanded softly—and, in spite of +herself, she obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +“Open your eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +She opened them wide. +</p> + +<p> +Abu-Samar, cool and perfectly attired even to his soft collar and tie, +was staring down at her. +</p> + +<p> +He drew forward the stool and sat down on it. +</p> + +<p> +“And so, Mrs. Battiscombe,” he purred, “you have come to me at last.” +</p> + +<p> +She compressed her lips. She knew that she must humour this man, +stifle her feelings, strain every nerve to avoid uttering some +ill-considered retort that would be calculated to goad him into fury. +</p> + +<p> +“Where am I?” she inquired weakly. +</p> + +<p> +His features twisted into an expression that was at once scornful and +mockingly apologetic. +</p> + +<p> +“You have come to the humble quarters of Abu-Samar, the refuge in the +wilderness to which your own people have driven me. Presently, when +the hue and cry has died down, when they have given up all hope of +tracing you, we will build ourselves a palace.” He indicated the +jumbled heap along the far wall. “From the smoking ruins of my house +at Bukit-Serang we succeeded in saving a few of my treasures. In a +little while we shall have more. The native vessels will bring carpets +and curtains and furniture from the coast and men will wait by the +river to transport them here. We shall have comfort such as the white +man does not understand, and the tribesmen, who are afraid of me, +shall be our servants.” +</p> + +<p> +He produced a cigarette and, lighting it, puffed thoughtfully. The +blue smoke hung in the still air above him as he exhaled it through +his nostrils. The fierce light had gone out of his eyes, his whole +expression had softened, and he appeared to her at that moment, not as +the fierce, vindictive Anglophobe she had always pictured him, but +rather a languid, luxury-loving Oriental, basking like a lizard in the +heat. Now that he had allowed himself to relax, she could better +appreciate the fine outline of his dusky profile and the ease with +which he managed to pose elegantly without apparent effort. +</p> + +<p> +“I have sent that other girl away,” he continued presently. +</p> + +<p> +She simulated interest. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh? What other girl?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dara—the brown woman you saw at my house when we first met. She grew +jealous when she learnt that you were coming—and so I turned her out. +She told me I was mad to bring you here, that the white men would come +with their soldiers and guns and take you back; but we have waited +five whole days—and still they are not here.” +</p> + +<p> +He threw back his head and laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not afraid of your people; their guns are nothing to me. They +have all tried to take me—the Frenchmen in Anam, the Dutch, the +English in Sarawak—and now it is the English again. Every time I have +beaten them. For I have harnessed forces they do not know, I can shoot +out my tongue like a chameleon—and kill—and draw it back so that +none know whence it came. I can whisper across a continent—and those +to whom I wish to speak can hear me.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed again, and he reminded her strangely of a hawk. +</p> + +<p> +“I frightened them with the Crimson Butterfly. That is the greatest of +all my secrets, Vera. I discovered it not far from here, where there +is a temple among the rocks and men worship these creatures. Dara was +there then, guarding the shrine—and I saw that the butterflies did +not harm her. There had always been a woman in the temple—and the +insects had grown used to her; but they fell in swarms upon any man +who sought to steal the emblem at her throat or spirit her away—and +stung him to death. I found a man who had once worshipped the Crimson +Butterfly—and he told me many things. It appeared that the priests +destroyed the caterpillars when they came to life, only sparing so +many, and that they smeared themselves in a preparation, so that they +should not be stung. Sometimes, however, a priest was poisoned by a +butterfly; the mark appeared on his skin, and was removed by a certain +process in order that the worshippers should not know why he had died +and still continue to believe in their immunity. I went away for a +long while and thought. I wanted to discover how I could best make +this secret of use to me. There was a legend that there had once been +a white goddess at the shrine and that after a certain time had +elapsed she would come there again. Presently a plan occurred to me. I +wanted to exploit their secret and to induce the worshippers to help +me in my campaign against the white man. I made them a promise. I told +them that one day Dara would disappear and then the white goddess +would return. I went to a place they did not know and made an enormous +red butterfly and hung it in the trees. I found that the butterflies +left the temple and came to it. I smeared myself in the preparation +that I had managed to procure, and, after a few hours, I destroyed the +thing I had made—and the insects left me and flew back. I made +another and they returned, and I caught them as they hovered over it. +Then I took Dara.” +</p> + +<p> +The ash from his cigarette had fallen in a heap into a crease in his +coat and he paused to brush it off. +</p> + +<p> +Vera, her head supported on one arm, regarded him steadily. +</p> + +<p> +“And after that——?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“After that I saw you and realised that I had found my white goddess. +I went to your husband. I wanted an excuse to see you again. He +insulted me and I decided to destroy him. I decoyed you to my house +and gave you the ornament. For some reason you sent it to Moberly—and +he died instead. When you found him you fainted and they sent for me, +believing me to be a doctor. The Butterfly pendant had vanished and I +wanted to get it back. I believed the magistrate Armourer had it and +sent out another butterfly to poison him. I was beginning to +understand the power of my secret, you see. I have heard since that +his servant found the ornament and perished. The priests of the temple +came to see me, demanding that the white goddess should appear, and I +knew it was time to compel you to come to me and bring the sacred +emblem with you. Believing that you knew where it was hidden, I willed +you to leave the house and find it, and sent out men to follow you and +bring you here.” +</p> + +<p> +He spread out his hands and dropped them, palm downwards, to his +knees. +</p> + +<p> +“You came, my white goddess, but the Butterfly is missing.” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember now,” said the girl. “I looked for it everywhere but could +not find it.” +</p> + +<p> +His eyes sought hers and again she saw that queer light that +frightened her. +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you think it was?” +</p> + +<p> +“In a hut in the trees. Mr. Armourer told me that Professor Standen +had it there. Somehow I found my way to it through the forest. When I +reached it the door was open and there was no Butterfly.” +</p> + +<p> +The ease with which the words came to her lips astonished her. +</p> + +<p> +He bit his lip. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall find it again,” he declared confidently, “Until then you +shall remain with me. When the ornament returns, I shall clasp it +round your neck and take you to the temple. For a little while you +will remain there, so that these people shall still have confidence in +me and help me. As soon as I have accomplished my end, I shall take +you away again and we will go to another part of the island, where I +was born. There will be no white people here then. I shall have +destroyed them all. I shall not use the ornament again. I have insects +now that have never seen the charm. One day I shall open the doors of +my breeding-house and they will fly everywhere.” +</p> + +<p> +Vera shuddered. +</p> + +<p> +“I talk to them,” pursued Samar dreamily, “and they fly on to my hand. +I walk among them unharmed because they know me. To some extent even I +can control their flight.” +</p> + +<p> +The effects of the drug he had given her were wearing off and already +she was feeling weaker. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s horrible, horrible!” she cried, and Abu-Samar rose to his feet. +Before she could draw it away, he had imprisoned one of her hands and +touched it with his lips. +</p> + +<p> +The next moment he was gone. +</p> + +<p> +Presently she fell asleep and it was evening when she woke again. The +atmosphere had grown appreciably cooler and gusts of wind lifted the +thatch above her head. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she heard a sound that sent her swaying across the floor to +the covered doorway. She heard shouting and what she imagined to be +distant rifle-fire. The noise was coming nearer and something passed +the hut with a shrill whining sound. +</p> + +<p> +She peered out. +</p> + +<p> +Darkness had almost fallen and the wilderness was enveloped in a faint +mist through which she saw bright tongues of flame and shadowy figures +running. +</p> + +<p> +She sank to her knees and clasped her hands. +</p> + +<p> +They had come to find her! They were coming that way! Heavens! it was +wonderful! +</p> + +<p> +A dark form appeared suddenly on the ladder and a muscular arm swept +her into space. She was flung like a sack over the native’s shoulder +and borne, struggling, on the perilous descent to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +She screamed aloud, hammering on the ebony back with her fists. +</p> + +<p> +At the foot of the ladder, the man shifted her on to his other +shoulder, skirted the trees and ran rapidly with her into the falling +darkness. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch31"> +CHAPTER XXXI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Trapped in the Breeding-House</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">It</span> was five days since the punitive force had left Jelandang, and +during all that time Armourer had never let the brown girl out of his +sight. +</p> + +<p> +Night and day they had pressed forward, halting only to ease the +bearers when the sun was at its height, and, of the European members +of the party, only Joyce had enjoyed more than a few moments of sleep. +They had made a rough hammock for her which the magistrate’s men had +carried in turn. +</p> + +<p> +The route chosen by Dara had been different from that which Sembilan +and Trevor had followed; they had studiously avoided all native +villages and settlements and, until the evening of the second day, no +opposition at all had been encountered. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe’s expedition came up with them as they paused in the last +belt of trees before descending in skirmishing order upon the stretch +of open land in which Dara assured them Abu-Samar’s hiding-place lay. +</p> + +<p> +Upon learning of his approach Armourer himself went back to meet his +colleague, taking the native girl with him. +</p> + +<p> +He sighted Battiscombe, still red of face and decidedly thinner, +marching at the head of a ragged line of troops and natives. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, Jim!” +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, Michael! Thought we were never going to catch you up! You’re +in a devil of a hurry, aren’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +It struck Armourer at that moment that his friend knew nothing of his +wife’s abduction. +</p> + +<p> +They shook hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell your fellows to be careful not to leave the trees. As far as I +can make out, we’ve out-flanked Abu’s scouts. There’s a useful sort of +mist coming and in about ten minutes I’m going to rush the position.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe lowered himself to the ground and mopped his forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all too confoundedly strenuous,” he groaned, “Give me my jolly +old court-house and a comfortable magisterial chair with a back to +it!—Who’s the girl?” +</p> + +<p> +“Samar’s discarded lady-love. She’s bubbling over with jealousy and an +earnest desire for vengeance, and has elected to act as our guide.” +</p> + +<p> +The larger man shuffled himself into a patch of shadow and removed his +sun-helmet. +</p> + +<p> +“Lord, Michael! I’ve covered a deuce of a lot of ground since last I +saw you. I’ve forded rivers, scaled mountains, wallowed in swamps, +lost a man with snake-bite, run short of rations and haggled with +insolent native potentates over the mere necessities of life!” +</p> + +<p> +In spite of the unpleasant news he sought an opportunity of conveying +to the other, Armourer could not resist this: +</p> + +<p> +“Did you find any leeches?” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe grinned. +</p> + +<p> +“Hundreds of ’em! So many that I’ve got quite used to them. I’m that +hardened that I look upon a day without a leech as an uneventful +period of time! How did you leave Vera?” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer’s face became suddenly serious. +</p> + +<p> +“We didn’t leave her, Jim,” he said, looking the other straight in the +eyes, “she left <i>us</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe started to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“What d’you mean, Michael?—She’s gone to Rembakut?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied Armourer steadily, “she’s gone to Abu-Samar.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe staggered back as if he had been struck. +</p> + +<p> +“Gone to Abu-Samar!” he echoed, and caught the other’s arm. “How did +this happen? What in the name of heaven were you doing to let her +go?—Good Lord, man! I left her in your charge.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know that. Trevor was dining with me when she went. She had decided +to take dinner in her room and Chong-Si was looking after the three of +us. He came in suddenly with the news that the <i>mem</i> had gone out—and +brought me a note from her. We didn’t stop to do anything, but +dispatched every man we could lay our hands on to look for her, and +joined in the hunt ourselves. She went out deliberately to join Samar, +but you mustn’t blame her for that. He seems to have hypnotised her. +Trevor, myself and Sembilan—the chap I sent to guide you—got on her +trail. There were two distinct tracks—and we split up. Trevor and +Sembilan almost overtook the fellows Samar had instructed to pick her +up, but were held up by a posse of natives with blow-pipes. I collared +Dara—the woman I have here now. I cabled Jesselton for instructions, +spent the whole night organising an expedition, and have been on the +go ever since.” +</p> + +<p> +He could not see his friend’s face—it was hidden in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Good God!” he muttered, and then: “Poor little woman!” +</p> + +<p> +He squared his shoulders and turned fiercely on Armourer. +</p> + +<p> +“We must get her back; don’t you understand? We must move <i>now</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” returned Armourer. “We’re only waiting for you.” +</p> + +<p> +They left both bearers and horses in the forest. Joyce was to follow a +little after the main body, with her father, Trevor and two of +Armourer’s men. The remainder spread out like a fan—Michael and the +girl in the centre, Battiscombe on the right and Corporal Kuraman on +the extreme left. +</p> + +<p> +They had covered about three hundred yards, with Samar’s retreat dimly +outlined in the distance, when a large force of natives sprang +suddenly into being, emerging from behind the cover of the boulders, +and greeted the attacking party with wild, defiant yells, followed by +a shower of darts. +</p> + +<p> +“Drop!” yelled Armourer; “drop down, all of you. Don’t fire wildly; +pick out your men!” +</p> + +<p> +He snatched a rifle from the soldier who was nearest and dropped a big +native before he could draw back into cover. +</p> + +<p> +The battle had opened. Shots rang out on all sides, bullets found +their mark, flattened themselves against boulders or whined +plaintively on into space. The natives replied vigorously, sending +over showers of darts with so reckless a profusion that Armourer +smiled grimly to himself. He scented that the noise and flash of the +rifles was getting them rattled. Their own weapons were such that they +had to expose themselves to fire with any degree of accuracy—and the +uniformed troops handled their guns like veterans, with a savage +delight at having some inspiring sort of target to blaze away at. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of the fourth big hostile shower, he waved his handkerchief +and shouted at the top of his voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Fix bayonets! Up—all of you—and let ’em have it!” +</p> + +<p> +There were casualties then—three of them, but they had the +satisfaction as they ran, crouching low, to see big bunches of men +break from cover and scuttle like rabbits, tumbling one over the +other. +</p> + +<p> +A hundred yards and the Government troops had flattened out again, +preceding their antagonists by minutes and wreaking fearful havoc +before the knots had gained time to disperse. +</p> + +<p> +A couple more similar manœuvres, and blow-pipes had been flung aside +for <i>parangs</i> and <i>krises</i>. A brief determined stand, and the rot +which Armourer had fervently hoped for began to set in. +</p> + +<p> +He emptied his revolver, downed a big native with his fist, stunned +him as he strove to rise with his weapon held like a knuckle-duster, +and filled up again. +</p> + +<p> +Groups of men, obviously intended as enemy reserves, bolted back +behind the long buildings and vanished into the mist. +</p> + +<p> +At the fall of darkness, Armourer’s whistle brought together +Battiscombe and twelve men, and a few moments later the professor’s +little rear-guard joined them. +</p> + +<p> +“Six—no, seven missing,” declared the younger magistrate. +</p> + +<p> +Three more straggled up. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer heaved a sigh of relief. +</p> + +<p> +“Can anybody see any more knocking around?—We’ve still four to +account for.” +</p> + +<p> +Corporal Kuraman came forward. +</p> + +<p> +“Three were hit in the first attack, <i>Tuan</i>,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, Kuraman. I daresay we lost another after that. I say, +Jimmy! that’s not too bad, is it?—With your permission, I’ll send +your corporal and two others to bring any wounded they find to that +long hut over there. We’ll make that our headquarters for the time +being.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe was thinking of Vera. +</p> + +<p> +“Better see what’s inside,” he suggested—and they moved forward +again. +</p> + +<p> +They advanced warily until the clump of trees and the building which +ran beneath were completely encircled. +</p> + +<p> +It was a long hut, with a door at either end. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer tried the nearest one without success, but Trevor, who had +moved round to the far side, called out: +</p> + +<p> +“I say, you fellows, we can get in here; it’s propped open.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer selected three men, sent them forward to reconnoitre, and +joined Trevor. +</p> + +<p> +“Be careful how you go; there may be a trick here.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked back to see Joyce and her father close behind him, and, a +couple of paces distant, the brown girl, who stood watching with +folded arms. He remembered suddenly that he had not noticed +Battiscombe for some minutes. +</p> + +<p> +“Seen Jimmy, anybody?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Trevor, “I caught sight of him a short while back. He was +sending one of the fellows up that ladder to see if the shack up there +was inhabited.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer shouted for a lamp. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as one was brought, he kicked open the door and, holding it +open with one hand, stepped inside. +</p> + +<p> +Trevor was at his heels. +</p> + +<p> +“Professor,” called the magistrate, “don’t come in, if you don’t mind. +Look after Miss Standen and see that the men keep well spread out +round the building. I’ll shout for you if we want any assistance.” +</p> + +<p> +The planter, who was staring round curiously, uttered a cry. +</p> + +<p> +“Look out! There’s one of those confounded butterflies!” +</p> + +<p> +He made a shot at it with his hat and it fluttered past Armourer, who +snatched up the piece of wood that had held the door open and knocked +it to the ground. Before he could put his foot on it, it had crawled +out into the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“Standen,” he cried at the top of his voice, “one of Samar’s insects +has got loose.” He held the lamp through the doorway. “I don’t see it +anywhere, but I know I hit it.” +</p> + +<p> +He stepped back into the hut and the door swung to behind him. +</p> + +<p> +There was something unpleasantly definite about the way it closed that +made Armourer attempt to open it again. He tried it several times, +then picked up the lamp and held it close to the lock. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s up?” asked his companion. +</p> + +<p> +Armourer looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re locked in, old son, like the pair of idiots we are.” +</p> + +<p> +The planter shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not made of cast-iron; we can soon break our way out.” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer made his way down the centre of the building. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not that that worries me,” he informed him, “but the fact that +there may be a lot of unpleasant surprises in store for us before we +can break out. Lord! what’s all this?” +</p> + +<p> +He held the lamp until its light fell upon tier upon tier of broad +wooden trays, strewn with freshly-picked green leaves. +</p> + +<p> +Trevor possessed himself of a leaf and, dropping it quickly, put his +foot on it. +</p> + +<p> +“Caterpillars,” he declared. “Nasty striped things, with <i>horns</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +Armourer stuck an empty pipe between his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you what, old son,” he said, “we’ve struck an uncommonly +pleasant little packet this time; we’re in his breeding-house!” +</p> + +<p> +The colour left Trevor’s cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” +</p> + +<p> +“This is where he breeds the crimson butterflies.” +</p> + +<p> +The planter turned on his heel. +</p> + +<p> +“In that case we’d better get out before they make nasty-looking +patterns all over us. I’ll see how a round or two’ll influence his +patent lock.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” returned the magistrate, “carry on with it. I’m going to +see what there is at the far end.” He blundered into a wooden +partition and opened the door it contained carefully. There was a +light inside, and he set down his lamp on the floor behind him. His +automatic and his face came into the opening together, and, as they +did so, he caught sight of a figure standing erect, one hand on a +wooden bar. It was Dr. Abu-Samar. +</p> + +<p> +The expression on the creature’s face was that of a beast of the +forest driven to bay. A wild light danced in his eyes, and he crouched +suddenly, putting the whole of his weight on the lever. +</p> + +<p> +“Hands up, Abu!” said the Englishman coolly. “I’ve got you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not yet, O Englishman!” came the muttered reply, and at that instant +the light went out. Something dropped somewhere and Armourer felt a +cool inrush of air. He fired two shots at where he imagined the secret +trap in the wall to be, reached back for his own lamp, and started +forward. +</p> + +<p> +It was only then that he realised why Samar had waited. +</p> + +<p> +The walls were lined with countless small cages, all of which were now +open, and the air was alive with the flapping of wings. +</p> + +<p> +He heard Trevor firing into the lock and yelled to him to close the +door when he got free. The insects were everywhere, fluttering against +the roof and the walls, swooping down on him with a vicious, droning +sound. He dropped the hurricane lamp and hit at them wildly. One +settled on his tunic and he dashed it off. At all costs he must shut +that trap. It would be the greatest calamity in the world if they +found the open. +</p> + +<p> +He saw it now—a hole a yard square—but a few feet to his left, with +the square of boarding that had covered it lying on the floor. He +stripped off his coat and swept it in all directions, beating for +himself a path through the danger that descended upon him in a crimson +cloud. +</p> + +<p> +He plunged to his knees, and drawing himself through the aperture, +thrust in an arm and pulled the boarding back into place. As he did so +he felt a sharp, burning sensation at his wrist. He crushed the +butterfly against the outer wall, but already the damage was done. +</p> + +<p> +His shout brought a soldier to the spot, and almost immediately +afterwards the professor and Joyce. +</p> + +<p> +They found him pitched forward on to his arms, and in those last few +seconds of consciousness he recognised them. +</p> + +<p> +“They are all in there,” he muttered, “the butterflies—don’t open +anything—Samar got out first—One of the brutes stung me.” +</p> + +<p> +He rolled over on to his side, and the professor felt for his +hypodermic syringe. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch32"> +CHAPTER XXXII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Battiscombe Brings News</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Acting</span> on the professor’s instructions, they brought down the rough +bed that had been Vera Battiscombe’s couch such a short time before, +and laid Armourer on it. +</p> + +<p> +The bearers, led by a runner, had already joined the main body, and a +brown canvas tent was quickly erected over the sick man. +</p> + +<p> +Thereafter Trevor—in the absence of Battiscombe, who had mysteriously +disappeared—took charge. +</p> + +<p> +Ably instructed by the indefatigable Kuraman—who had reported three +men as dead and delivered the remaining third to Standen for +treatment—a breastwork of cases and boulders was run up around the +encampment. Failing the return of his scouts, Trevor realised that an +advance into hostile country before dawn with so small a company would +be distinctly unwise. +</p> + +<p> +He explained his views at some length to Dara, who merely shrugged her +shoulders and spread out her hands, as if to indicate that the white +lord was wiser than she and must presumably know his own business +best. She thereupon threw herself on the earth outside Armourer’s +tent, in so awkward a position that the professor tripped over her on +coming out and it was only the timely intervention of the planter that +prevented him from falling headlong. +</p> + +<p> +“How is he?” asked the younger man anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +The professor rubbed his beard. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, we’ll pull him through all right. You can’t accomplish these +things in a few minutes, but we got him in time. Pity that Samar +fellow slipped through our ring. You saw how it happened, of course? +He had dug a ditch just outside his emergency exit and cunningly +covered it up. He must have wriggled through it like a snake till he +passed our men, and then scuttled off into the darkness—Have you +found Battiscombe?” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t think what’s happened to him. I suppose Armourer told him +about his wife, and he decided to clear off with the reconnoitring +party. I hope he’s all right.” +</p> + +<p> +Standen struck a match and looked at his watch. +</p> + +<p> +“Nearly nine,” he announced. “What about some food?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve set a couple of fellows preparing a meal. It’ll be the usual +tack—bread and cheese and tinned stuff, with tea to follow. We can +start right away if you like. Where’s Miss Standen?” +</p> + +<p> +The other nodded towards the tent. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve left her with him. She seems to have been doing nothing but +nursing lately, but I fancy she likes it.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s jolly good of her.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor chuckled. +</p> + +<p> +“I may be old, Trevor, but I’m not as blind as some people like to +imagine. Joyce’s mother has been dead for more than fifteen years and, +in spite of my studies, I’ve had ample time to understand my own +daughter. She’s infinitely happy to be of use to your little +expedition, of course, but I believe she’s even more glad that her +patient is Michael Armourer—er—This is in strict confidence, you +understand.” +</p> + +<p> +He wiped his glasses and replaced them. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, what do you say to a meal?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” said Trevor, “that Armourer, when he comes to himself, will +more than appreciate the fact that Miss Standen is his nurse.” +</p> + +<p> +Standen thrust his arm through that of the planter. +</p> + +<p> +“So that’s so, is it? Well, I’m glad to hear it. Armourer’s an +Englishman and a gentleman, and, as far as I can see, he has a clean +record. I don’t ask anything better than that.—Where did you say they +were preparing our repast?” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor piloted him to a spot where a hurricane-lamp stood on a case +with a miscellany of enamelled ware and cutlery encircling it. +</p> + +<p> +They were lighting their pipes when Battiscombe appeared from nowhere +and grabbed at a hunk of bread. +</p> + +<p> +“Jove! I’m hungry!” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor raised his brows. +</p> + +<p> +“Where the deuce have you been?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“A dickens of a way. I took charge of those three men Armourer sent +out. We scoured the country pretty thoroughly and eventually got into +touch with a score or so of disconsolate tribesmen, who capitulated +without offering resistance. I think they imagined we had the whole +British Army behind us. Lord! they were scared.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor blinked. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, we had a long palaver, conducted mostly by signs, until I +discovered that their leader understood some Malay. After that we got +along famously. It’s queer what fat-headed notions some people get +into their heads!—these chaps worship that confounded Butterfly, you +know!” +</p> + +<p> +He munched for some moments in silence. +</p> + +<p> +“All I wanted to know was what had happened to my wife. It seems that +this confounded Samar promised them a white goddess instead of the +black one they already had. Vera was to be the goddess. They’ve taken +her up there now and there’s to be no end of a big ceremony to-night. +My friend assured me that they didn’t intend harming her. Then I got a +word in. I explained that the lady in question was my wife, the child +of quite ordinary human beings, and that I could vouch for the fact +that she hadn’t at any time dropped from the skies. That set them +thinking. They gibbered away for some time and then announced that +they, personally, had lost all faith in Abu-Samar and would cheerfully +exert their influence on our behalf upon their fellow tribesmen. I’ve +brought ’em back with me.” +</p> + +<p> +He reached over for the cheese. +</p> + +<p> +Trevor perched himself on the edge of the case. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want us to do?” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe, his cheeks bulging, regarded him solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +“This is a time for tact,” he declared. “We’ll leave half our men +here, and taking the remainder with us proceed directly to where this +gigantic jamboree is being held. We’ll carry arms, of course, but I +don’t think we shall require to use them. One of the most important +points against Abu-Samar is that his new goddess isn’t wearing the +pendant. She can’t be, because I noticed it on the brown girl this +evening. Abu’ll have his say, and then <i>I’ll</i> address the meeting +through an interpreter. I’ve had one or two experiences of this sort +before—and I’m still here to tell the tale! Let’s see what Armourer +thinks about it.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevor told him the news—and his face fell. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor old Michael! Now isn’t that just the rottenest luck imaginable?” +He stared towards the long hut. “So that’s where he carried out his +devilish experiments, is it? We’ll have to burn that down.” +</p> + +<p> +Standen coughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I suggested doing so when it was light. We don’t want to risk any of +those insects getting free.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course not; but I shan’t feel at all comfortable until it is +burnt. Thousands of those butterflies, eh? It makes one shudder to +think of it. If we hadn’t tackled the affair as promptly as we did, +heaven alone knows what might have happened.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hanging’s too good for a chap like Abu-Samar,” put in Trevor. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe screwed up his face. +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t like to tell you how I feel about it,” he said. “If I +hadn’t had something to keep me from thinking too much, I fancy I +should have gone mad.” +</p> + +<p> +Standen nodded gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve taken your gruelling better than most men, and I admire you +for it. I know the state your nerves are in and the effort you had to +make to persuade yourself to come back here to us instead of going on +after Mrs. Battiscombe. If you’ll listen to the advice of an older +man, and one who has had some experience, you’ll stop fidgeting about +and sit down.” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate planted himself on the case next to Trevor. +</p> + +<p> +“And what’s your next advice, professor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Finish your meal slowly, take a good strong <i>tot</i>, and light your +pipe.—How soon have we to start?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to get away at once, but we’ve ample time if we push +off in half an hour. As far as I can make out, nothing useful can be +accomplished before midnight. Somebody’s got to stop here and look +after those chattering niggers. Who’s it going to be?” +</p> + +<p> +Standen looked at the planter. +</p> + +<p> +“Under any other circumstances, I should have cheerfully volunteered; +but my experience as a leader of men is insignificant and there may be +more of the insects at the temple.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” said Trevor. “You mean that the antidote may be required +again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely. On the other hand, of course, there’s Armourer and our +wounded men to be considered. I could make them both comfortable +before I started and leave instructions with my daughter how to act if +either took a serious turn for the worse.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll stop,” declared Trevor promptly. “How long are you likely to be +away.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll be back before dawn, in any case,” he decided. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Trevor,” said the professor. +</p> + +<p> +The other laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not grumbling. I’ve had more than my share of the excitement, +and—well, there’s nothing else for it, is there? We can manage all +right here—and it’s more than likely you’ll be wanted up there. Take +Dara with you. She’s the real goddess of the Crimson Butterfly and you +can’t very well deprive these people of one of them without returning +them the other.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe started. +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove, Trevor!” he ejaculated; “that’s the ticket! I didn’t know +that she was the important personage.” +</p> + +<p> +He rubbed his hands together. +</p> + +<p> +“If some kind person’ll oblige me with that <i>tot</i>, we’ll get busy.” He +looked from one to the other. “If any harm’s come to Vera,” he added +fiercely, “I’m not altogether certain that Mr. Abu-Samar will come +back with us <i>alive</i>.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch33"> +CHAPTER XXXIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A Move in the Right Direction</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">James Battiscombe’s</span> long experience as a magistrate in remote +districts had taught him the value of stage-management where native +religions were concerned. +</p> + +<p> +Consequently, when he and the professor, with their handful of men, +joined the tribesmen who squatted outside the breastwork, he led Dara +forward, holding a lamp so that its light fell upon her face and +shoulders and upon the sacred emblem that glittered at her throat. +</p> + +<p> +The natives, who had risen at their approach, stared in hushed +amazement at her coming and presently prostrated themselves before +her. +</p> + +<p> +She folded her arms and addressed them in their own tongue, and the +fervour of their mingled responses inspired the magistrate with hope. +</p> + +<p> +The girl turned to him. +</p> + +<p> +“I have told them,” she said in Malay, “that I was spirited away from +them by Abu-Samar; that he is a bad man and that, before the sun rises +again in the east, he must die.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“And the men said,” pursued Dara, “that my words were wise ones and +that they would take me back to my temple and tell the others what I +have already told them.” +</p> + +<p> +“All that is good,” returned Battiscombe, “except that this man Samar +should die before dawn. Very surely he will die, but there are wise +men at the coast who would speak with him first. Listen, Dara: When +the white lady has been given over to me and we have placed you again +in the temple in the hill, then shall the chieftains deliver Abu-Samar +into my hands.” +</p> + +<p> +She did not answer. +</p> + +<p> +“You hear me, Dara?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hear you, great <i>Tuan</i>, and I understand.” +</p> + +<p> +They moved forward presently, under a violet dome where stars hung +like jewelled ornaments amid wind-blown clouds. Battiscombe and the +professor walked in front, with the native girl between them; a few +paces behind them came the leader of the tribesmen—a man of enormous +height, clad in a leopard skin, a blow-pipe, with a spearhead +attached, slung across his shoulders. He was followed by Kuraman and +six soldiers, who marched in double file, while the remaining natives +fell in irregularly at the rear. +</p> + +<p> +The first half-mile was rough going, and then, on the far side of a +gorge, they wheeled on to a recognised track, which, in spite of +fragments of stone occurring at frequent intervals, offered them +better foothold. +</p> + +<p> +Wild and mountainous country this, broken by rare strips of sparse +vegetation and occasional clumps of stunted trees. +</p> + +<p> +Banks of heavy clouds hung on the horizon, and at a little after +eleven the moon came up. +</p> + +<p> +“Blowing up for rain,” declared Standen suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Battiscombe. “Vance’ll be glad. He wants it for his young +rubber.” +</p> + +<p> +They relapsed into silence again. +</p> + +<p> +They climbed a stiff hill and began descending into a valley where a +keen wind met them, carrying to their cheeks the spray from an +adjacent cataract. +</p> + +<p> +The native who spoke Malay caught them up. +</p> + +<p> +“We will stop at the foot of the slope, <i>Tuan</i>. On the other side of +the hill is the road by which our people must pass on their way to the +temple.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Baik</i>,” replied Battiscombe shortly, and pressed onward. +</p> + +<p> +They called a halt in the hollow and the professor selected a boulder +upon which he promptly sat. +</p> + +<p> +“This is all very well for you younger fellows,” he laughed, “but it +soon begins to tell upon a man of my age.” +</p> + +<p> +Dara reclined at his feet, while the magistrate strolled off to +interview his guide. +</p> + +<p> +“O <i>Tuan</i>,” said the brown girl to Standen, “you are the man with the +beard who is wiser than all other white men.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor, who understood enough Malay to follow her meaning, +bestowed upon her the look a father might give to a very young child. +</p> + +<p> +“I would hardly like to say that,” he murmured in his own tongue, and +then, so that she could understand him: “Who told you this, Dara?” +</p> + +<p> +“The <i>Tuan-Hakim</i> who is sick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Armourer, eh? Well, that was really uncommonly nice of him!” +</p> + +<p> +She surveyed him through half-closed eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“The <i>Tuan-Hakim</i> made me a promise; he said that, when the time had +arrived, you and he would explain to the priests and the headman how +it was that Abu had taken me away, and that you would kill this Abu, +so that the prophecy might be fulfilled.” +</p> + +<p> +Standen was puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +“What prophecy, Dara?” +</p> + +<p> +“That he who touches the goddess of the Crimson Butterfly—dies. +Otherwise,” she added, “men will say that I went with him willingly, +and will believe that I am a goddess no longer.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor beckoned to Battiscombe, who was already on his way back +to them. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Battiscombe! This girl has taken advantage of your absence to +try and drive a hard bargain with me. As far as I can gather, she +wants me to agree to have Samar killed and handed over to the natives +to prove that the penalty for embracing this dusky goddess is death.” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate turned to Dara. +</p> + +<p> +“We are moving on in but a little while,” he told her, “and there is +no time to discuss this thing. But, when the white <i>mem</i> has been +restored to me, I shall see that these people believe and take you +back again.” +</p> + +<p> +She observed him doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“If Abu does not die,” she declared, “very surely they will kill me +after you have gone.” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe did not answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Some of their fellows have gone ahead to explain the position to any +of their friends they may encounter in the road,” he remarked to +Standen. “If they’re not back in a quarter of an hour, I’m starting +without them. My interpreter thought it best to get a decent number of +’em on our side, in case our mission got misunderstood and we were +attacked. On the whole I fancy he’s right.” +</p> + +<p> +“It appears very sound to me,” said the other. +</p> + +<p> +“We want a good backing,” continued the magistrate. “We’re not going +to put up much of a show, if it comes to fighting, with seven men and +a bunch of others who won’t know quite on whose side they are. They +tell me the far side of the ridge is just teeming with the +black-skinned blighters. Wouldn’t some of our padres at home give +their cassocks and waistcoat buttons for a congregation like this?” +</p> + +<p> +“By Gad, they would!” chuckled the professor. +</p> + +<p> +“And think of the collection!” +</p> + +<p> +Standen blew his nose vigorously. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose they have one?” +</p> + +<p> +“You bet they do. Witch-doctors, <i>juju</i>-merchants and high-priests of +native cults don’t just hang around producing mysteries for nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“What form do you suppose it takes. I mean they wouldn’t bring money.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Battiscombe, “they probably trot along a bunch of bananas, +some nuts, or a coconut or two—and the priests await an opportunity +and dispose of it in bulk to the first merchant that crosses the +interior. There’s usually a commercial side to all these things. +Nobody grumbles as long as there’s a good show. Your native likes his +show. That’s why Dara’s position presents complications. We’ve got to +convince the priests—or whatever they style themselves—that she’s +the genuine article—and we’ve to convince them in such manner as not +to arouse too many suspicions in the native mind. Their principal +creed is that the butterflies protect their goddess and that no man +who tampers with her survives the experiment. We can’t produce a +butterfly and make it sting Abu-Samar, and we haven’t time to find and +dispose of him and tattoo on him a fair imitation of the mark the +Butterfly makes when it does sting. If we’re driven to extreme +measures, we may have to pick the beggar off with a rifle-bullet, just +to show ’em that the man who abducted Dara did die anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +“It wouldn’t be sufficient, I suppose,” asked Standen, “to assure them +that Abu-Samar will die in any case?” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe produced a pouch and began filling his pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid not. If I could only manage to get away with that, I’d +consider I’d fulfilled my duty to the letter.—Hullo! here are some of +our men back. We’ll fall the fellows in and get on.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch34"> +CHAPTER XXXIV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Temple of the Crimson Butterfly</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> summit of the next hill revealed to them a vast circular +amphitheatre from the centre of which a path led up to the spot where, +at the top of a huge mound, an enormous brazier was burning. Behind +the brazier they could just make out the entrance to what appeared to +be a cave and, standing before it, three figures. +</p> + +<p> +Packed closely into this hollow, partly in the moonlight and partly in +the shadow of the cliffs, was a multitude of crouching forms. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe caught the professor’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Lord!” he exclaimed, “what a mob! Did you ever see anything like it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Standen, “never in my life. It puzzles me that so barren a +country-side should be able to produce so many.” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate unhitched a pair of binoculars and focussed them on the +temple. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” asked his companion after a long pause. +</p> + +<p> +“Vera’s there,” said Battiscombe huskily, “and Samar. There’s a black +chap with them with nothing much on but paint.” +</p> + +<p> +Their guide halted before them. +</p> + +<p> +“It is time, O <i>Tuan</i>,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe gritted his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“The crucial moment has arrived, Standen. What d’you think about it?” +</p> + +<p> +The professor smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m profoundly interested,” he confessed. +</p> + +<p> +They began the descent. +</p> + +<p> +They came presently, by way of a winding path, to a flight of steps +roughly hewn from the bare rock, and ten minutes later they embarked +upon the narrow passage-way that stretched between the two sections of +worshippers at the shrine of the Crimson Butterfly. +</p> + +<p> +The professor, walking a couple of paces behind Battiscombe, stared +blandly at an ocean of dark heads and a veritable forest of spears +that extended, seemingly, from either side of them to infinity. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe, pipe in mouth, strode along with his head held high and +one hand resting lightly in his jacket-pocket. He appeared +delightfully at his ease, but the hidden hand was closed over a +pistol-butt and his eye was ever alert for a hostile sign in his +immediate neighbourhood. +</p> + +<p> +It was an eerie moment. +</p> + +<p> +The slightest sign of nervousness, of hesitation, would have spelt +inevitable disaster. This puny band that marched to the rescue of Vera +Battiscombe would have been overwhelmed and crushed out of existence +by sheer weight of numbers. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe was within twenty yards of the shrine itself when the +native who spoke Malay appeared at his side and signed to him to stop. +</p> + +<p> +Just above them a man was speaking in the queer, discordant dialect +these people employed. The magistrate could not hope to follow the +text, but kept his eyes on the speaker, endeavouring to gather from +his actions and change of expression the gist of what he was saying. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the high-priest,” whispered his guide. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“He says that this is the night of all nights, that the prophecy has +been fulfilled and there is once more a white goddess at the shrine of +the Butterfly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he does, does he?” muttered the magistrate between his teeth, and +looked round for Dara. But the black girl was nowhere to be seen. +</p> + +<p> +The priest—a fantastic figure in crimson loincloth and headpiece like +a skull-cap with wings, his body smeared with broad lines of red and +yellow paint—seized the white girl by a wrist and led her forward. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe, an ugly light in his eyes, the veins standing out on his +temples, made an effort to choke down his emotion. He saw his wife +mauled by this bedaubed savage—a trembling, terrified Vera, clothed +in a black <i>sarong</i> spotted with gold, and with barbaric ornaments +hanging at her wrists. +</p> + +<p> +The gathering was on its knees now and the incantation they repeated +rumbled in that vast hollow like thunder. +</p> + +<p> +The murmuring ceased and, in the grim silence that followed, +Battiscombe caught the guide’s eye. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask him where the token is—the ornament that the goddess should be +wearing.” +</p> + +<p> +The man raised his arm and shouted. +</p> + +<p> +The priest was about to respond when Abu-Samar sprang in front of him +and levelled an accusing finger at Battiscombe. +</p> + +<p> +“It is he who has stolen the ornament,” he screamed. “The white man +who has come to rob the shrine of its goddess has taken the Crimson +Butterfly.” +</p> + +<p> +A shrieking tumult rose to the heavens, there was an ominous clash of +weapons, and two walls of gesticulating humanity began to close in on +them. +</p> + +<p> +“This is beginning to look awkward,” whispered the professor in the +magistrate’s ear. “Can’t our black friend do something?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m pumping some good sound logic into him now,” the other jerked +back over his shoulder. “Tell my fellows to keep their heads and not +attempt to use their rifles until I give the order.” +</p> + +<p> +He planted the flat of his hand on a black chest that had come too +close to be pleasant, and deliberately pushed it back. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell them,” he shouted to the guide, “that Abu-Samar is a liar and +the son of liars; that he came by stealth and stole Dara—the +goddess—from the shrine; that the white woman they see up there is no +goddess, but my wife, whom he took away from my house when she was +ill. Tell them that I have come from the great king who dwells on the +other side of the black waters and that there are many men waiting at +but a little distance. Tell them that I come as a friend, to find my +wife, whom Samar has taken, and go away with her in peace; that the +British <i>Raj</i> has sent me to give them back Dara and take Abu-Samar +down to the sea-shore in chains, that the prophecy may be fulfilled +and the defiler of the sanctuary of the Crimson Butterfly slain. Tell +them that if they receive me in peace—all is well; and if they greet +me with spears, the hillsides will flash with fire and there will be +many dead in the valleys.” +</p> + +<p> +The man in the leopard skin waved his blow-pipe above his head and +presently the shouting died down. +</p> + +<p> +He spoke for fully twenty minutes by the professor’s watch, an +eloquent, impassioned speech, and Standen mentally thanked his stars +that they had stumbled upon a local orator for their advocate. +</p> + +<p> +The speaker dropped his arms to his sides and there was a brief space +of silence. Then, like a great tidal wave, the tumult burst upon them +again. It was awe-inspiring, deafening, colossal; but Battiscombe, who +could detect the difference between unfriendly native noises and the +other kind, appeared satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +He turned to Standen. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s that damn’ girl?” he demanded. “If we could only show her to +’em now, we’d beat that brute Samar all hands down.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor raised a warning finger. +</p> + +<p> +The high-priest was speaking again. +</p> + +<p> +The guide leaned across. +</p> + +<p> +“I told you so,” said Battiscombe again. “He’s asking for Dara. If she +doesn’t show up inside a couple of minutes—the game’s up.” +</p> + +<p> +He began shouldering his way towards the shrine with the friendly +native at his heels. +</p> + +<p> +“Follow me,” he shouted back. “If the worst comes to the worst, we’ll +make sure of the high ground. We may find some sort of sanctuary up +there.” +</p> + +<p> +“The horns of the altar!” murmured Standen, as he caught him up. +</p> + +<p> +A few paces from the high-priest himself, Battiscombe bowed politely. +</p> + +<p> +“O wise one!” he began in Malay, assuming him to be a man of superior +education, “Dara—the goddess of the Butterfly—is here.” +</p> + +<p> +The priest regarded him suspiciously. +</p> + +<p> +“You have said that Abu-Samar is a liar,” he reminded the Englishman, +“also the son of liars. Abu-Samar, on the other hand, insists that it +is you who lie and that it is you who have stolen the sacred pendant +which should adorn the neck of our goddess. Restore to us Dara—and +the pendant, and all will be well. Otherwise——” +</p> + +<p> +Abu-Samar, still in the European garb he affected, drew himself erect. +</p> + +<p> +“Battiscombe,” he called insolently, “you are a brave man and an +optimist, but Abu-Samar holds your fate in the hollow of his hand. +Yes, I stole your wife from Jelandang. You can shout it to these +people again and again, but they will not believe you. They have +waited for a white goddess all these years and, now that I have +brought her to them, do you imagine they will let you take her away? +In a moment I shall move one finger and you and your little party will +be blotted out. I am lending your wife to these people. They shall +keep her until I am ready to spirit her away, as I took Dara the brown +girl.” He pointed at Battiscombe’s band contemptuously. “It will take +more than that to arrest Abu-Samar. Seven little soldiers in round +hats! It is an insult—the second time you have insulted me, +Battiscombe!” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate held his head on one side. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I shall have to inflict a third insult on you, Abu-Samar, +for to-night I take you back with me—to be hanged like the dirty +cut-throat you are!” +</p> + +<p> +Samar drew in a deep breath and his eyes flashed. +</p> + +<p> +“Dara!” he shouted to the crowd. “Where is she? They, who say they +have brought her back, cannot find her. It is a lie, a trick… +<i>Kill!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +And then, as Battiscombe’s automatic leaped from his pocket, as grim +little men gripped their rifles and a shrieking mass hesitated before +sweeping down on them—a dark figure slipped from behind a rock and, +drawing a long knife from her hair, buried it to the hilt in Samar’s +back. +</p> + +<p> +Abu-Samar dropped forward on to his knees and Dara waved the dripping +blade aloft. +</p> + +<p> +“Greetings, my people!” she cried, “Behold! here am I! Dara! I have +come back to you. My white friends have brought me here—and he who +stole me from you is dead!” +</p> + +<p> +They grovelled before her now, moaning, chanting, beating their heads +upon the ground, and Battiscombe, darting forward, snatched Vera up in +his arms. +</p> + +<p> +“We have won, <i>Tuan</i>,” said Kuraman at the professor’s side. “The +<i>Tuan-Hakim</i> has won—and the <i>mem</i> is safe again. He is a wonderful +man!” +</p> + +<p> +Standen smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Kuraman,” replied the professor, “you are all wonderful men—all of +you; do you understand?” +</p> + +<p> +And he lit a cigarette. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch35"> +CHAPTER XXXV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Fruits of Victory</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">As</span> the dawn was coming up, Trevor, red-eyed and weary, saw them +straggling back among the rocks. +</p> + +<p> +Two men carried a hammock on a <i>pikul</i>, the professor and Battiscombe +walked leisurely, laughing over something one of them had just said, +and everybody was smoking. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” he greeted them; “what luck?” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe threw his arms in the air. +</p> + +<p> +“The very best. We’ve brought her back, unharmed.” +</p> + +<p> +The planter vaulted over the breastwork and ran to meet them. +</p> + +<p> +“Splendid! How did you manage it?” +</p> + +<p> +The professor laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll tell you all about it as soon as we’ve found somewhere +comfortable to sit and something warm to drink. We’ve had a most +successful and memorable outing; but it was touch-and-go at one time, +wasn’t it, Battiscombe?” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate grinned. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t I know it! Up to a point we were the two most unpopular people +in creation—and give me popularity every time! You’ve read of minutes +that seem like years, Trevor?—well, we had about fifteen of those, +with umpteen black giants breathing hate down the backs of our shirts! +Lord! professor, didn’t they stink!” +</p> + +<p> +“They did,” agreed Standen, “horribly!” +</p> + +<p> +“And Abu-Samar?” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe took Trevor’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s dead; Dara killed him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dara?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, stabbed him in the back at a very critical moment. We’d talked +ourselves hoarse and it wanted something very decisive to convince ’em +of our <i>bona-fides</i>. Dara supplied it!” +</p> + +<p> +The last trace of anxiety left the planter’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s about the end of our job, isn’t it? We can burn his +jolly old breeding-house at our leisure, and march comfortably back to +hear the plaudits of the multitude!” +</p> + +<p> +They all laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“How’s Armourer?” asked the professor, as they approached the tent. +</p> + +<p> +“Fine, apparently. The last time I saw Miss Standen she told me he had +recognised her and spoken quite sensibly.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor rubbed his hands together. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what comes of having a fine constitution!” +</p> + +<p> +“And a fine antidote,” added Battiscombe. +</p> + +<p> +“And a fine nurse,” said Trevor. “I’ve pitched the other tent over +there. I thought you’d want somewhere to put Mrs. Battiscombe.” +</p> + +<p> +Standen stopped outside Armourer’s tent. +</p> + +<p> +“I could sleep the round of the clock!” he declared. +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe placed his hands on his hips. +</p> + +<p> +“I can give you four hours. I’m breaking camp at nine and putting as +many miles as I can between us and any possible after-thoughts on the +part of our coloured friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t blame you,” said the other, and went in to look at his +patient. +</p> + +<p> +By nine o’clock all that was left of the long hut and its loathsome +contents was a heap of smouldering ruins. +</p> + +<p> +It amused Standen to compare the atmosphere of the return march to the +outward journey of the expedition. +</p> + +<p> +The men, the bearers, the leaders themselves, laughed and chattered as +the long line wound its way westward. The fact that their mission was +accomplished and that Abu-Samar was dead had taken a weight from every +mind, from the highest to the lowest. He wondered what would have +happened if they had failed, if the breeding-house had broadcasted its +thousands, if Samar had been free to pursue his campaign of hate! +</p> + +<p> +“What’s up, professor?” laughed Trevor. “You look as if you’d +something on your mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“I had,” confessed the older man; “but, thank heaven, it isn’t there +now!” +</p> + +<p> +On the second day Vera was able to ride. +</p> + +<p> +“Jim,” she asked suddenly, addressing the man who walked by her side, +“are you really glad to have me back?” +</p> + +<p> +Battiscombe smiled up at her. +</p> + +<p> +“Rather!” he said. “When I heard that he’d taken you, I nearly went +off my rocker.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I’ve been such a beast to you. It’s no earthly use your shaking +your head. I’ve treated you frightfully badly.” She rested a hand on +his shoulder. “But I didn’t know you, Jim. I didn’t know you could do +things like that. I was so frightened before you came. I was more +frightened still—for your sake—when you walked right through that +ghastly crowd. I thought they’d kill you.” +</p> + +<p> +“So did I,” replied her husband cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +“But you weren’t afraid.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wasn’t I, though! I was in a deuce of a panic, if you only knew.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe it,” she declared. “I absolutely refuse to believe +any such nonsense. You were an absolute hero—a great, fat, dear old +hero—and I don’t deserve you a bit.—But honestly, dear, I mean to +stick to you like anything after this.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve jolly well got to,” said Battiscombe. “You don’t suppose I +indulge in jaunts of this sort just for the fun of the thing. In +future I’m ruling my household with an iron hand.—By the way, I’m +sending in my resignation as soon as we get back.” +</p> + +<p> +Vera gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not throwing up your career because of me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not altogether. You see, Vera, the old man pegged out on the day I +left Rembakut. I got the news when Armourer’s man caught me up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jim!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he continued slowly, “I haven’t told a soul about it yet; I was +saving it up for you. It’ll mean a lot to us. You’ll be able to have +some decent frocks now and the only occupation I shall want is +something to help me keep my fat down!—I’m sorry I wasn’t home when +it happened, though.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a week before Armourer talked sensibly again. He opened his +eyes wearily and realised that somebody was bending over him. It was +evening and the air was pleasantly cool. +</p> + +<p> +He reached out with his hand and touched a white arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, Joyce?” he asked, in so natural a tone that it startled +her. +</p> + +<p> +She had somehow pictured their first intimate conversation as +something entirely different from this. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Michael,” she said, with just a catch in her voice, “I’ve +brought Mickie to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +He drew her hand towards him and pressed his lips to it. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +[The End] +</p> + + +<h2> +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES +</h2> + +<p> +Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g. butterfly-net/butterfly net, +landmarks/land-marks, etc.) have been preserved. +</p> + +<p> +Note: some of the fixes list below are due to an apparent publishing +error wherein some of the leftmost characters of a few lines didn’t +get printed. +</p> + +<p class="noindent mt1"> +<b>Alterations to the text</b>: +</p> + +<p> +Punctuation: fix some quotation mark pairings/nestings and a few +missing periods. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter V] +</p> + +<p> +Change “there was a gap <i>bewteen</i> her frock and her neck” to +<i>between</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter VI] +</p> + +<p> +“into the pocket of the pyjama <i>acket</i> she wore” to <i>jacket</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XV] +</p> + +<p> +“He looked back over his <i>sholulder</i>” to <i>shoulder</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XVI] +</p> + +<p> +“peering fearfully <i>nto</i> the darkness” to <i>into</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XX] +</p> + +<p> +“take special <i>recautions</i> to protect themselves against” to +<i>precautions</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXI] +</p> + +<p> +“After Dick and the others. it was simply wonderful to think” change +the period to a comma. +</p> + +<p> +“bring me one of those <i>ters</i> … from which he <i>rites</i> … your +troubles <i>ll</i> be at an end” to <i>letters</i>, <i>writes</i>, and <i>will</i>, +respectively. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXIII] +</p> + +<p> +“show what state of <i>min</i> she was in” to <i>mind</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXVI] +</p> + +<p> +“from a box and fastened it round her <i>neek</i>” to <i>neck</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXVII] +</p> + +<p> +“with three or four <i>pople</i> making tracks” to <i>people</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Amourer</i> shook his head” to <i>Armourer</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXIX] +</p> + +<p> +“for <i>here</i> on the stool was irrefutable evidence” to <i>there</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXX] +</p> + +<p> +“He <i>insed</i> it and threw the drops to the floor” to <i>rinsed</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXXII] +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Standon</i> looked at the planter” to <i>Standen</i>. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +[End of text] +</p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78222 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/78222-h/images/cover.jpg b/78222-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2a4a3bd --- /dev/null +++ b/78222-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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