"TO HALF OF MY KINGDOM--"
Captain Carver selected a cigar from Peter Gross's humidor and reclined
in the most comfortable chair in the room.
"A beastly hot day," he announced, wiping the perspiration from his
forehead. "Regular Manila weather."
"The monsoon failed us again to-day," Peter Gross observed.
Carver dropped the topic abruptly. "I dropped over," he announced, "to
see if the _juragan_ talked any."
Peter Gross glanced out of the window toward the jungle-crowned hills.
The lines of his mouth were very firm.
"He told me a great deal," he admitted.
"About Paddy?" There was an anxious ring in Carver's voice.
"About Paddy--and other things."
"The lad's come to no harm?"
"He is aboard Ah Sing's proa, the proa we saw standing out to sea when
we reached the beach. He is safe--for the present at least. He will be
useful to Ah Sing, the natives reverence him so highly."
"Thank God!" Carver ejaculated in a relieved voice. "We'll get him
back. It may take time, but we'll get him."
Peter Gross made no reply. He was staring steadfastly at the hills
again.
"Odd he didn't take you, too," Carver remarked.
"The _juragan_ told me that he intended to come back with a portion of
his crew for me later," Peter Gross said. "They ran short of provisions,
so they had to go back to the proas, and they took Paddy with them. Some
one warned them you were on the march with Jahi, so they fled. Tsang
Che, the _juragan_, says his crew was slow in taking on fresh water;
that is how we were able to surprise him."
"That explains it," Carver remarked. "I couldn't account for their
leaving you behind."
Peter Gross lapsed into silence again.
"Did you get anything else from him, any real evidence?" Carver
suggested presently.
The resident roused himself with an effort.
"A great deal. Even more than I like to believe."
"He turned state's evidence?"
"You might call it that."
"You got enough to clear up this mess?"
"No," Peter Gross replied slowly. "I would not say that. What he told me
deals largely with past events, things that happened before I came here.
It is the present with which we have to deal."
"I'm a little curious," Carver confessed.
Peter Gross passed his hand over his eyes and leaned back.
"He told me what I have always believed. Of the confederation of pirates
with Ah Sing at their head; of the agreements they have formed with
those in authority; of where the ships have gone that have been reported
missing from time to time and what became of their cargoes; of how my
predecessor died. He made a very full and complete statement. I have it
here, written in Dutch, and signed by him." Peter Gross tapped a drawer
in his desk.
"It compromises Van Slyck?"
"He is a murderer."
"Of de Jonge--your predecessor?"
"It was his brain that planned."
"Muller?"
"A slaver and embezzler."
"You're going to arrest them?" Carver scanned his superior's face
eagerly.
"Not yet," Peter Gross dissented quietly. "We have only the word of a
pirate so far. And it covers many things that happened before we came
here."
"We're waiting too long," Carver asserted dubiously. "We've been lucky
so far; but luck will turn."
"We are getting the situation in hand better every day. They will strike
soon, their patience is ebbing fast; and we will have the _Prins_ with
us in a week."
"The blow may fall before then."
"We must be prepared. It would be folly for us to strike now. We have no
proof except this confession, and Van Slyck has powerful friends at
home."
"That reminds me," Carver exclaimed. "Maybe these documents will
interest you. They are the papers Jahi found on your jailers. They seem
to be a set of accounts, but they're Dutch to me." He offered the papers
to Peter Gross, who unfolded them and began to read.
"Are they worth anything?" Carver asked presently, as the resident
carefully filed them in the same drawer in which he had placed Tsang
Che's statement.
"They are Ah Sing's memoranda. They tell of the disposition of several
cargoes of ships that have been reported lost recently. There are no
names but symbols. It may prove valuable some day."
"What are your plans?"
"I don't know. I must talk with Koyala before I decide. She is coming
this afternoon."
Peter Gross glanced out of doors at that moment and his face brightened.
"Here she comes now," he said.
Carver rose. "I think I'll be going," he declared gruffly.
"Stay, captain, by all means."
Carver shook his head. He was frowning and he cast an anxious glance at
the resident.
"No; I don't trust her. I'd be in the way, anyway." He glanced swiftly
at the resident to see the effect of his words. Peter Gross was looking
down the lane along which Koyala was approaching. A necklace of flowers
encircled her throat and bracelets of blossoms hung on her
arms--gardenia, tuberose, hill daisies, and the scarlet bloom of the
flame-of-the-forest tree. Her hat was of woven nipa palm-leaves,
intricately fashioned together. Altogether she was a most alluring
picture.
When Peter Gross looked up Carver was gone. Koyala entered with the
familiarity of an intimate friend.
"What is this I hear?" Peter Gross asked with mock severity. "You have
been saving me from my enemies again."
Koyala's smile was neither assent nor denial.
"This is getting to be a really serious situation for me," he chaffed.
"I am finding myself more hopelessly in your debt every day."
Koyala glanced at him swiftly, searchingly. His frankly ingenuous,
almost boyish smile evoked a whimsical response from her.
"What are you going to do when I present my claim?" she demanded.
Peter Gross spread out his palms in mock dismay. "Go into bankruptcy,"
he replied. "It's the only thing left for me to do."
"My bill will stagger you," she warned.
"You know the Persian's answer, 'All that I have to the half of my
kingdom,'" he jested.
"I might ask more," Koyala ventured daringly.
Peter Gross's face sobered. Koyala saw that, for some reason, her reply
did not please him. A strange light glowed momentarily in her eyes.
Instantly controlling herself, she said in carefully modulated tones:
"You sent for me, _mynheer_?"
"I did," Peter Gross admitted. "I must ask another favor of you,
Koyala." The mirth was gone from his voice also.
"What is it?" she asked quietly.
"You know whom we have lost," Peter Gross said, plunging directly into
the subject. "Ah Sing carried him away. His uncle, the boy's only living
relative, is an old sea captain under whom I served for some time and a
very dear friend. I promised him I would care for the lad. I must bring
the boy back. You alone can help me."
The burning intensity of Koyala's eyes moved even Peter Gross, unskilled
as he was in the art of reading a woman's heart through her eyes. He
felt vaguely uncomfortable, vaguely felt a peril he could not see or
understand.
"What will be my reward if I bring him back to you?" Koyala asked. Her
tone was almost flippant.
"You shall have whatever lies in my power as resident to give," Peter
Gross promised gravely.
Koyala laughed. There was a strange, jarring note in her voice.
"I accept your offer, Mynheer Resident," she said. "But you should not
have added those two words, 'as resident.'"
Rising like a startled pheasant, she glided out of the door and across
the plain. Peter Gross stared after her until she had disappeared.