"This is the devil of gin," whispered Mrs. Almayer. "Yes; he talks like that sometimes when there is nobody to hear him.""What does he say?" inquired Babalatchi, eagerly. "You ought to understand.""I have forgotten their talk. A little I understood. He spoke without any respect of the white ruler in Batavia, and of protection, and said he had been wronged; he said that several times. More I did not understand. Listen! Again he speaks!""Tse! tse! tse!" clicked Babalatchi, trying to appear shocked, but with a joyous twinkle of his solitary eye. "There will be great trouble between those white men. I will go round now and see. You tell your daughter that there is a sudden and a long journey before her, with much glory and splendour at the end.
And tell her that Dain must go, or he must die, and that he will not go alone.""No, he will not go alone," slowly repeated Mrs. Almayer, with a thoughtful air, as she crept into the passage after seeing Babalatchi disappear round the corner of the house.
The statesman of Sambir, under the impulse of vivid curiosity, made his way quickly to the front of the house, but once there he moved slowly and cautiously as he crept step by step up the stairs of the verandah. On the highest step he sat down quietly, his feet on the steps below, ready for flight should his presence prove unwelcome. He felt pretty safe so. The table stood nearly endways to him, and he saw Almayer's back; at Nina he looked full face, and had a side view of both officers; but of the four persons sitting at the table only Nina and the younger officer noticed his noiseless arrival. The momentary dropping of Nina's eyelids acknowledged Babalatchi's presence; she then spoke at once to the young sub, who turned towards her with attentive alacrity, but her gaze was fastened steadily on her father's face while Almayer was speaking uproariously.
" . . . disloyalty and unscrupulousness! What have you ever done to make me loyal? You have no grip on this country. I had to take care of myself, and when I asked for protection I was met with threats and contempt, and had Arab slander thrown in my face. I! a white man!""Don't be violent, Almayer," remonstrated the lieutenant; "I have heard all this already.""Then why do you talk to me about scruples? I wanted money, and I gave powder in exchange. How could I know that some of your wretched men were going to be blown up? Scruples! Pah!"He groped unsteadily amongst the bottles, trying one after another, grumbling to himself the while.
"No more wine," he muttered discontentedly.
"You have had enough, Almayer," said the lieutenant, as he lighted a cigar. "Is it not time to deliver to us your prisoner?
I take it you have that Dain Maroola stowed away safely somewhere. Still we had better get that business over, and then we shall have more drink. Come! don't look at me like this."Almayer was staring with stony eyes, his trembling fingers fumbling about his throat.
"Gold," he said with difficulty. "Hem! A hand on the windpipe, you know. Sure you will excuse. I wanted to say--a little gold for a little powder. What's that?""I know, I know," said the lieutenant soothingly.
"No! You don't know. Not one of you knows!" shouted Almayer.
"The government is a fool, I tell you. Heaps of gold. Iam the man that knows; I and another one. But he won't speak. He is--"He checked himself with a feeble smile, and, making an unsuccessful attempt to pat the officer on the shoulder, knocked over a couple of empty bottles.
"Personally you are a fine fellow," he said very distinctly, in a patronising manner. His head nodded drowsily as he sat muttering to himself.
The two officers looked at each other helplessly.
"This won't do," said the lieutenant, addressing his junior.
"Have the men mustered in the compound here. I must get some sense out of him. Hi! Almayer! Wake up, man. Redeem your word.
You gave your word. You gave your word of honour, you know."Almayer shook off the officer's hand with impatience, but his ill-humour vanished at once, and he looked up, putting his forefinger to the side of his nose.
"You are very young; there is time for all things," he said, with an air of great sagacity.
The lieutenant turned towards Nina, who, leaning back in her chair, watched her father steadily.
"Really I am very much distressed by all this for your sake," he exclaimed. "I do not know;" he went on, speaking with some embarrassment, "whether I have any right to ask you anything, unless, perhaps, to withdraw from this painful scene, but I feel that I must--for your father's good--suggest that you should--Imean if you have any influence over him you ought to exert it now to make him keep the promise he gave me before he--before he got into this state."He observed with discouragement that she seemed not to take any notice of what he said sitting still with half-closed eyes.
"I trust--" he began again.
"What is the promise you speak of?" abruptly asked Nina, leaving her seat and moving towards her father.
"Nothing that is not just and proper. He promised to deliver to us a man who in time of profound peace took the lives of innocent men to escape the punishment he deserved for breaking the law.
He planned his mischief on a large scale. It is not his fault if it failed, partially. Of course you have heard of Dain Maroola.
Your father secured him, I understand. We know he escaped up this river. Perhaps you--""And he killed white men!" interrupted Nina.
"I regret to say they were white. Yes, two white men lost their lives through that scoundrel's freak.""Two only!" exclaimed Nina.
The officer looked at her in amazement.
"Why! why! You- " he stammered, confused.
"There might have been more," interrupted Nina. "And when you get this--this scoundrel will you go?"The lieutenant, still speechless, bowed his assent.
"Then I would get him for you if I had to seek him in a burning fire," she burst out with intense energy. "I hate the sight of your white faces. I hate the sound of your gentle voices.
