inquiring silence. “I asked him if he knew beforehand that I was living
here; but he only gave me a ghastly grin. I didn't press him for an
answer, Lena. I thought I had better not.”
On her smooth forehead a ray of light always seemed to rest. Her loose
hair, parted in the middle, covered the hands sustaining her head. She
seemed spellbound by the interest of the narrative. Heyst did not pause
long. He managed to continue his relation smoothly enough, beginning
afresh with a piece of comment.
“He would have lied impudently--and I detest being told a lie. It makes
me uncomfortable. It's pretty clear that I am not fitted for the affairs
of the wide world. But I did not want him to think that I accepted his
presence too meekly, so I said that his comings or goings on the
earth were none of my business, of course, except that I had a natural
curiosity to know when he would find it convenient to resume them.
“He asked me to look at the state he was in. Had I been all alone here,
as they think I am, I should have laughed at him. But not being alone--I
say, Lena, you are sure you haven't shown yourself where you could be
seen?”
“Certain,” she said promptly.
He looked relieved.
“You understand, Lena, that when I ask you to keep so strictly out of
sight, it is because you are not for them to look at--to talk about. My
poor Lena! I can't help that feeling. Do you understand it?”
She moved her head slightly in a manner that was neither affirmative nor
negative.
“People will have to see me some day,” she said.
“I wonder how long it will be possible for you to keep out of sight?”
murmured Heyst thoughtfully. He bent over the table. “Let me finish
telling you. I asked him point blank what it was he wanted with me; he
appeared extremely unwilling to come to the point. It was not really
so pressing as all that, he said. His secretary, who was in fact his
partner, was not present, having gone down to the wharf to look at
their boat. Finally the fellow proposed that he should put off a certain
communication he had to make till the day after tomorrow. I agreed;
but I also told him that I was not at all anxious to hear it. I had no
conception in what way his affairs could concern me.
“'Ah, Mr. Heyst,' he said, 'you and I have much more in common than you
think.'”
Heyst struck the table with his fist unexpectedly.
“It was a jeer; I am sure it was!”
He seemed ashamed of this outburst and smiled faintly into the
motionless eyes of the girl.
“What could I have done--even if I had had my pockets full of
revolvers?”
She made an appreciative sign.
“Killing's a sin, sure enough,” she murmured.
“I went away,” Heyst continued. “I left him there, lying on his side
with his eyes shut. When I got back here, I found you looking ill. What
was it, Lena? You did give me a scare! Then I had the interview with
Wang while you rested. You were sleeping quietly. I sat here to consider
all these things calmly, to try to penetrate their inner meaning and
their outward bearing. It struck me that the two days we have before
us have the character of a sort of truce. The more I thought of it, the
more I felt that this was tacitly understood between Jones and myself.
It was to our advantage, if anything can be of advantage to people
caught so completely unawares as we are. Wang was gone. He, at any rate,
had declared himself, but as I did not know what he might take it into
his head to do, I thought I had better warn these people that I was no
longer responsible for the Chinaman. I did not want Mr. Wang making some
move which would precipitate the action against us. Do you see my point
of view?”
She made a sign that she did. All her soul was wrapped in her passionate
determination, in an exalted belief in herself--in the contemplation
of her amazing opportunity to win the certitude, the eternity, of that
man's love.
“I never saw two men,” Heyst was saying, “more affected by a piece of
information than Jones and his secretary, who was back in the bungalow
by then. They had not heard me come up. I told them I was sorry to
intrude.
“'Not at all! Not at all,' said Jones.
“The secretary backed away into a corner and watched me like a wary cat.
In fact, they both were visibly on their guard.
“'I am come,' I told them, 'to let you know that my servant has
deserted--gone off.'
“At first they looked at each other as if they had not understood what I
was saying; but very soon they seemed quite concerned.
“'You mean to say your Chink's cleared out?' said Ricardo, coming
forward from his corner. 'Like this--all at once? What did he do it
for?'
“I said that a Chinaman had always a simple and precise reason for what
he did, but that to get such a reason out of him was not so easy. All he
told me, I said, was that he 'didn't like'.
“They were extremely disturbed at this. Didn't like what, they wanted to
know.
“'The looks of you and your party,' I told Jones.
“'Nonsense!' he cried out, and immediately Ricardo, the short man,
struck in.
“'Told you that? What did he take you for, sir--an infant? Or do you
take us for kids?--meaning no offence. Come, I bet you will tell us next
that you've missed something.'”
“'I didn't mean to tell you anything of the sort,' I said, 'but as a
matter of fact it is so.'
“He slapped his thigh.
“'Thought so. What do you think of this trick, governor?'
“Jones made some sort of sign to him, and then that extraordinary
cat-faced associate proposed that he and their servant should come out
and help me catch or kill the Chink.
“My object, I said, was not to get assistance. I did not intend to chase
the Chinaman. I had come only to warn them that he was armed, and that
he really objected to their presence on the island. I wanted them to
understand that I was not responsible for anything that might happen.
“'Do you mean to tell us,' asked Ricardo, 'that there is a crazy Chink
with a six-shooter broke loose on this island, and that you don't care?'
“Strangely enough they did not seem to believe my story. They were
exchanging significant looks all the time. Ricardo stole up close to
his principal; they had a confabulation together, and then something
happened which I did not expect. It's rather awkward, too.
“Since I would not have their assistance to get hold of the Chink
and recover my property, the least they could do was to send me their
servant. It was Jones who said that, and Ricardo backed up the idea.
“'Yes, yes--let our Pedro cook for all hands in your compound! He isn't
so bad as he looks. That's what we will do!'
“He bustled out of the room to the veranda, and let out an ear-splitting
whistle for their Pedro. Having heard the brute's answering howl,
Ricardo ran back into the room.
“'Yes, Mr. Heyst. This will do capitally, Mr. Heyst. You just direct
him to do whatever you are accustomed to have done for you in the way of
attendance. See?'
“Lena, I confess to you that I was taken completely by surprise. I had
not expected anything of the sort. I don't know what I expected. I am so
anxious about you that I can't keep away from these infernal scoundrels.
And only two months ago I would not have cared. I would have defied
their scoundrelism as much as I have scorned all the other intrusions of
life. But now I have you! You stole into my life, and--”
Heyst drew a deep breath. The girl gave him a quick, wide-eyed glance.
“Ah! That's what you are thinking of--that you have me!”
It was impossible to read the thoughts veiled by her steady grey eyes,
to penetrate the meaning of her silences, her words, and even her
embraces. He used to come out of her very arms with the feeling of a
baffled man.
“If I haven't you, if you are not here, then where are you?” cried
Heyst. “You understand me very well.”
She shook her head a little. Her red lips, at which he looked now, her
lips as fascinating as the voice that came out of them, uttered the
words:
“I hear what you say; but what does it mean?”
“It means that I could lie and perhaps cringe for your sake.”
“No! No! Don't you ever do that,” she said in haste, while her eyes
glistened suddenly. “You would hate me for it afterwards!”
“Hate you?” repeated Heyst, who had recalled his polite manner. “No!
You needn't consider the extremity of the improbable--as yet. But I will
confess to you that I--how shall I call it?--that I dissembled. First I
dissembled my dismay at the unforeseen result of my idiotic diplomacy.
Do you understand, my dear girl?”
It was evident that she did not understand the word. Heyst produced his
playful smile, which contrasted oddly with the worried character of his
whole expression. His temples seemed to have sunk in, his face looked a
little leaner.
“A diplomatic statement, Lena, is a statement of which everything is
true, but the sentiment which seems to prompt it. I have never been
diplomatic in my relation with mankind--not from regard for its
feelings, but from a certain regard for my own. Diplomacy doesn't go
well with consistent contempt. I cared little for life and still less
for death.”
“Don't talk like that!”
“I dissembled my extreme longing to take these wandering scoundrels
by their throats,” he went on. “I have only two hands--I wish I had a
hundred to defend you--and there were three throats. By that time
their Pedro was in the room too. Had he seen me engaged with their two
throats, he would have been at mine like a fierce dog, or any other
savage and faithful brute. I had no difficulty in dissembling my longing
for the vulgar, stupid, and hopeless argument of fight. I remarked that
I really did not want a servant. I couldn't think of depriving them of
their man's services; but they would not hear me. They had made up their
minds.
“'We shall send him over at once,' Ricardo said, 'to start cooking
dinner for everybody. I hope you won't mind me coming to eat it with
you in your bungalow; and we will send the governor's dinner over to him
here.'
“I could do nothing but hold my tongue or bring on a quarrel--some
manifestation of their dark purpose, which we have no means to resist.
Of course, you may remain invisible this evening; but with that
atrocious-brute prowling all the time at the back of the house, how long
can your presence be concealed from these men?”
Heyst's distress could be felt in his silence. The girl's head,
sustained by her hands buried in the thick masses of her hair, had a
perfect immobility.
“You are certain you have not been seen so far?” he asked suddenly.
The motionless head spoke.
“How can I be certain? You told me you wanted me to keep out of the way.
I kept out of the way. I didn't ask your reason. I thought you didn't
want people to know that you had a girl like me about you.”
“What? Ashamed?” cried Heyst.
“It isn't what's right, perhaps--I mean for you--is it?”
Heyst lifted his hands, reproachfully courteous.
“I look upon it as so very much right that I couldn't bear the idea of
any other than sympathetic, respectful eyes resting on you. I disliked
and mistrusted these fellows from the first. Didn't you understand?”
“Yes; I did keep out of sight,” she said.
A silence fell. At last Heyst stirred slightly.
“All this is of very little importance now,” he said with a sigh.
“This is a question of something infinitely worse than mere looks and
thoughts, however base and contemptible. As I have told you, I met
Ricardo's suggestions by silence. As I was turning away he said:
“'If you happen to have the key of that store-room of yours on you,
Mr. Heyst, you may just as well let me have it; I will give it to our
Pedro.'
“I had it on me, and I tendered it to him without speaking. The hairy
creature was at the door by then, and caught the key, which Ricardo
threw to him, better than any trained ape could have done. I came away.
All the time I had been thinking anxiously of you, whom I had left
asleep, alone here, and apparently ill.”
Heyst interrupted himself, with a listening turn of his head. He had
heard the faint sound of sticks being snapped in the compound. He rose
and crossed the room to look out of the back door.
“And here the creature is,” he said, returning to the table. “Here he
is, already attending to the fire. Oh, my dear Lena!”
She had followed him with her eyes. She watched him go out on the front
veranda cautiously. He lowered stealthily a couple of screens that hung
between the column, and remained outside very still, as if interested
by something on the open ground. Meantime she had risen in her turn, to
take a peep into the compound. Heyst, glancing over his shoulder, saw
her returning to her seat. He beckoned to her, and she continued to
move, crossing the shady room, pure and bright in her white dress, her
hair loose, with something of a sleep-walker in her unhurried motion, in
her extended hand, in the sightless effect of her grey eyes luminous in
the half-light. He had never seen such an expression in her face
before. It had dreaminess in it, intense attention, and something like
sternness. Arrested in the doorway by Heyst's extended arm, she seemed
to wake up, flushed faintly--and this flush, passing off, carried away
with it the strange transfiguring mood. With a courageous gesture
she pushed back the heavy masses of her hair. The light clung to her
forehead. Her delicate nostrils quivered. Heyst seized her arm and
whispered excitedly:
“Slip out here, quickly! The screens will conceal you. Only you must
mind the stair-space. They are actually out--I mean the other two. You
had better see them before you--”
She made a barely perceptible movement of recoil, checked at once, and
stood still. Heyst released her arm.
“Yes, perhaps I had better,” she said with unnatural deliberation, and
stepped out on the veranda to stand close by his side.
Together, one on each side of the screen, they peeped between the edge
of the canvas and the veranda-post entwined with creepers. A great heat
ascended from the sun-smitten ground, in an ever-rising wave, as if from
some secret store of earth's fiery heart; for the sky was growing cooler
already, and the sun had declined sufficiently for the shadows of Mr.
Jones and his henchman to be projected towards the bungalow side by
side--one infinitely slender, the other short and broad.
The two visitors stood still and gazed. To keep up the fiction of his
invalidism, Mr. Jones, the gentleman, leaned on the arm of Ricardo, the
secretary, the top of whose hat just came up to his governor's shoulder.
“Do you see them?” Heyst whispered into the girl's ear. “Here they
are, the envoys of the outer world. Here they are before you--evil
intelligence, instinctive savagery, arm in arm. The brute force is at
the back. A trio of fitting envoys perhaps--but what about the welcome?
Suppose I were armed, could I shoot these two down where they stand?
Could I?”
Without moving her head, the girl felt for Heyst's hand, pressed it and
thereafter did not let it go. He continued, bitterly playful:
“I don't know. I don't think so. There is a strain in me which lays me
under an insensate obligation to avoid even the appearance of murder.
I have never pulled a trigger or lifted my hand on a man, even in
self-defence.”
The suddenly tightened grip of her hand checked him.
“They are making a move,” she murmured.
“Can they be thinking of coming here?” Heyst wondered anxiously.
“No, they aren't coming this way,” she said; and there was another
pause. “They are going back to their house,” she reported finally.
After watching them a little longer, she let go Heyst's hand and moved
away from the screen. He followed her into the room.
“You have seen them now,” he began. “Think what it was to me to see them
land in the dusk, fantasms from the sea--apparitions, chimeras! And they
persist. That's the worst of it--they persist. They have no right to
be--but they are. They ought to have aroused my fury. But I have
refined everything away by this time--anger, indignation, scorn itself.
Nothing's left but disgust. Since you have told me of that abominable
calumny, it has become immense--it extends even to myself.” He looked up
at her.
“But luckily I have you. And if only Wang had not carried off that
miserable revolver--yes, Lena, here we are, we two!”
She put both her hands on his shoulders and looked straight into his
eyes. He returned her penetrating gaze. It baffled him. He could not
pierce the grey veil of her eyes; but the sadness of her voice thrilled
him profoundly.
“You are not reproaching me?” she asked slowly.
“Reproach? What a word between us! It could only be myself--but the
mention of Wang has given me an idea. I have been, not exactly cringing,
not exactly lying, but still dissembling. You have been hiding
yourself, to please me, but still you have been hiding. All this is very
dignified. Why shouldn't we try begging now? A noble art? Yes. Lena,
we must go out together. I couldn't think of leaving you alone, and
I must--yes, I must speak to Wang. We shall go and seek that man, who
knows what he wants and how to secure what he wants. We will go at
once!”
“Wait till I put my hair up,” she agreed instantly, and vanished behind
the curtain.
When the curtain had fallen behind her, she turned her head back with
an expression of infinite and tender concern for him--for him whom she
could never hope to understand, and whom she was afraid she could never
satisfy, as if her passion were of a hopelessly lower quality, unable
to appease some exalted and delicate desire of his superior soul. In a
couple of minutes she reappeared. They left the house by the door of
the compound, and passed within three feet of the thunderstruck Pedro,
without even looking in his direction. He rose from stooping over a fire
of sticks, and, balancing himself clumsily, uncovered his enormous fangs
in gaping astonishment. Then suddenly he set off rolling on his bandy
legs to impart to his masters the astonishing discovery of a woman.
CHAPTER SIX
As luck would have it, Ricardo was lounging alone on the veranda of the
former counting-house. He scented some new development at once, and ran
down to meet the trotting, bear-like figure. The deep, growling noises
it made, though they had only a very remote resemblance to the Spanish
language, or indeed to any sort of human speech, were from long
practice quite intelligible to Mr. Jones's secretary. Ricardo was rather
surprised. He had imagined that the girl would continue to keep out of
sight. That line apparently was given up. He did not mistrust her. How
could he? Indeed, he could not think of her existence calmly.
He tried to keep her image out of his mind so that he should be able
to use its powers with some approach to that coolness which the complex
nature of the situation demanded from him, both for his own sake and as
the faithful follower of plain Mr. Jones, gentleman.
He collected his wits and thought. This was a change of policy, probably
on the part of Heyst. If so, what could it mean? A deep fellow! Unless
it was her doing; in which case--h'm--all right. Must be. She would
know what she was doing. Before him Pedro, lifting his feet alternately,
swayed to and fro sideways--his usual attitude of expectation. His
little red eyes, lost in the mass of hair, were motionless. Ricardo
stared into them with calculated contempt and said in a rough, angry
voice:
“Woman! Of course there is. We know that without you!” He gave the tame
monster a push. “Git! Vamos! Waddle! Get back and cook the dinner. Which
way did they go, then?”
Pedro extended a huge, hairy forearm to show the direction, and went off
on his bandy legs. Advancing a few steps, Ricardo was just in time to
see, above some bushes, two white helmets moving side by side in the
clearing. They disappeared. Now that he had managed to keep Pedro from
informing the governor that there was a woman on the island, he could
indulge in speculation as to the movements of these people. His attitude
towards Mr. Jones had undergone a spiritual change, of which he himself
was not yet fully aware.
That morning, before tiffin, after his escape from the Heyst bungalow,
completed in such an inspiring way by the recovery of the slipper,
Ricardo had made his way to their allotted house, reeling as he ran,
his head in a whirl. He was wildly excited by visions of inconceivable
promise. He waited to compose himself before he dared to meet the
governor. On entering the room, he found Mr. Jones sitting on the camp
bedstead like a tailor on his board, cross-legged, his long back against
the wall.
“I say, sir. You aren't going to tell me you are bored?”
“Bored! No! Where the devil have you been all this time?”
“Observing--watching--nosing around. What else? I knew you had company.
Have you talked freely, sir?”
“Yes, I have,” muttered Mr. Jones.
“Not downright plain, sir?”
“No. I wished you had been here. You loaf all the morning, and now you
come in out of breath. What's the matter?”
“I haven't been wasting my time out there,” said Ricardo. “Nothing's the
matter. I--I--might have hurried a bit.” He was in truth still panting;
only it was not with running, but with the tumult of thoughts and
sensations long repressed, which had been set free by the adventure of
the morning. He was almost distracted by them now. He forgot himself in
the maze of possibilities threatening and inspiring. “And so you had a
long talk?” he said, to gain time.
“Confound you! The sun hasn't affected your head, has it? Why are you
staring at me like a basilisk?”
“Beg pardon, sir. Wasn't aware I stared,” Ricardo apologized
good-humouredly. “The sun might well affect a thicker skull than mine.
It blazes. Phew! What do you think a fellow is, sir--a salamander?”
“You ought to have been here,” observed Mr. Jones.
“Did the beast give any signs of wanting to prance?” asked Ricardo
quickly, with absolutely genuine anxiety. “It wouldn't do, sir. You must
play him easy for at least a couple of days, sir. I have a plan. I have
a notion that I can find out a lot in a couple of days.”
“You have? In what way?”
“Why, by watching,” Ricardo answered slowly.
Mr. Jones grunted.
“Nothing new, that. Watch, eh? Why not pray a little, too?”
“Ha, ha, ha! That's a good one,” burst out the secretary, fixing Mr.
Jones with mirthless eyes.
The latter dropped the subject indolently.
“Oh, you may be certain of at least two days,” he said.
Ricardo recovered himself. His eyes gleamed voluptuously.
“We'll pull this off yet--clean--whole--right through, if you will only
trust me, sir.”
“I am trusting you right enough,” said Mr. Jones. “It's your interest,
too.”
And, indeed, Ricardo was truthful enough in his statement. He did
absolutely believe in success now. But he couldn't tell his governor
that he had intelligences in the enemy's camp. It wouldn't do to tell
him of the girl. Devil only knew what he would do if he learned there
was a woman about. And how could he begin to tell of it? He couldn't
confess his sudden escapade.
“We'll pull it off, sir,” he said, with perfectly acted cheerfulness.
He experienced gusts of awful joy expanding in his heart and hot like a
fanned flame.
“We must,” pronounced Mr. Jones. “This thing, Martin, is not like our
other tries. I have a peculiar feeling about this. It's a different
thing. It's a sort of test.”
Ricardo was impressed by the governor's manner; for the first time a
hint of passion could be detected in him. But also a word he used, the
word “test,” had struck him as particularly significant somehow. It was
the last word uttered during that morning's conversation. Immediately
afterwards Ricardo went out of the room. It was impossible for him to
keep still. An elation in which an extraordinary softness mingled with
savage triumph would not allow it. It prevented his thinking, also. He
walked up and down the veranda far into the afternoon, eyeing the other
bungalow at every turn. It gave no sign of being inhabited. Once or
twice he stopped dead short and looked down at his left slipper. Each
time he chuckled audibly. His restlessness kept on increasing till at
last it frightened him. He caught hold of the balustrade of the veranda
and stood still, smiling not at his thought but at the strong sense of
life within him. He abandoned himself to it carelessly, even recklessly.
He cared for no one, friend or enemy. At that moment Mr. Jones called
him by name from within. A shadow fell on the secretary's face.
“Here, sir,” he answered; but it was a moment before he could make up
his mind to go in.
He found the governor on his feet. Mr. Jones was tired of lying down
when there was no necessity for it. His slender form, gliding about the
room, came to a standstill.