Chapter VII · (continued 2)

"What's to become of me?" she demanded.

He did not answer immediately; he seemed to put her every question through some mental process before deciding upon a reply. He was either very dull or an excellent actor.

"I have had instructions," he said at length; and she did not like the tone in which he said it.

"Well?" she prompted.

"After two weeks, if you give your word to forget everything you know—you understand what I mean—I am to put you aboard the yacht and send you anywhere you care to go. If not, then"—a shrug—"then you stay here—indefinitely."

"You mean, until he returns," she corrected, speaking more to herself than to him. "Which may be a month or may be longer." She drew a sharp breath. "And you have no idea when Tuan Muda will be back?"

"No; I told you no before. However, I can assure you it won't be soon. Is that all?"

She made no reply, but walked to the window and looked out thoughtfully. She heard Salazar leave. "I can assure you it won't be soon." Those words lodged in her mind. He, Tuan Muda, had gone up the river, knowing she would be alone with Salazar. But, she realized, she was being inconsistent: he had offered to send her to Sarawak. And she had refused—foolishly.

She shuddered. The taste of stale tobacco was sickening.

9

Day fled; night locked the world in a grim prison. To Lhassa, the chill of evening was like the chill of stone flagging and iron bars. Darkness made real the fears that through the day had seemed too fantastic to be other than imaginary. From her window she saw the red star that she had watched from the cliff on the previous night. It was darker, almost a garnet hue: to her, a bloodshot eye. It conjured a picture of Salazar. He had been in her mind all afternoon, but now he assumed a more definite shape. He was a being that she associated with dark colors, a personality sultry and saturnine; and the star seemed in some mysterious way related to him, a part of his individuality—an eye that watched her inexorably. She had intended to stay in her room, but as the dinner-hour drew near she questioned this policy. Salazar might interpret her absence to mean that she was afraid of him. And he must not know the truth.... She confessed to herself that his presence caused her alarm. He was not a type with whom a woman could match wits: his only weapons, thews and biceps, were too powerful for the subtlety of fencing.

Shortly after seven o'clock she descended to the lower hall with an unconcern that was not genuine. As she reached the bottom step she glimpsed a white suit on the portico. A quiver of dread shook her. But she did not pause: she would prove to herself that she was not afraid.

Casually she strolled out to where he stood leaning against a post. She pretended not to notice him and gazed up at the sky. Instead of stars, she saw his eyes, black as the spaces into which she looked. He stirred.

"I have been thinking," he announced abruptly.

She did not speak; kept her gaze on the sky.

"I've been thinking of what you said. How important is it that you see Monsieur the Rajah?"

She wondered what motive was behind his words. But she did not look at him.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing"—she imagined he shrugged—"except that I might arrange it—if it's important."

Suddenly she understood and lowered her gaze. His face was a mottle on the darkness, his eyes black hollows.

"You mean—send me after him?"

His reply was preceded by that usual moment of silence. "I mean—take you after him."

She smiled to herself, without humor. Bovine ... even in the preliminaries.

"We could leave to-night," he went on. "We might overtake him; if not, we could get there ... mmm ... about Saturday—perhaps. He might not be pleased, but"—a shrug—"you said it was important." A pause; then he added, "If you're afraid of the trip——"

"I assure you I am not afraid,"—quickly.

"If you're afraid," he repeated, "I can relieve that. You'll be well protected. Nothing to harm you; the Dyaks aren't wild any more; no beasts; only a few pythons and crocodiles. No discomfort. There's a shelter in the canoe—and at night you'll be under a lanko on the bank. Of course, if you don't——"

"You forget Ahmad and Pangku," she interrupted.

"Ahmad? Pangku?"

"Yes, my boys—whom Mr. Conquest told to watch me."

He snapped his fingers. "Malays! Cattle! I can attend to them." He laughed. "Belly of St. Gray! If only they stand in the way——" His sentence ended in another laugh. "There's a path back of the house," he continued, "that leads to a landing below the warehouses. I could be waiting there with the boatmen and the proa, and you could slip out unseen by this Ahmad or this Pangku. It is simple—quite—if you wish to do it."

Silence followed. Lhassa imagined she could hear the irregular measure of her heart. Five days in the jungle with.... No. And yet was it a greater hazard than remaining in Sadok with him for a month or longer? Of course, Tuan Muda might return——

The sound of the dinner-gong came throbbing from within. It had a ring of security that decided her.

"No," she announced; "I don't care to go."

She went inside, followed by Salazar.

Throughout the meal she felt that every atom within her had turned into a living coal. She burned, whether with excitement, strain, or what, she could not decide; nor did she try to analyze. Her mind was a smoky forest. There formed before her pictures of dark rivers, of swamps, of damp jungles; and always Salazar was included. The man himself was silent. He ate quickly and left the table without a word. A few minutes later the smell of tobacco drifted to her.

She sat motionless, her eyes directed upon an insect that was crawling up one of the candlesticks toward the flame. Although she saw it, it occupied no place in her thoughts. She was thinking of the stillness of the house, of the quiet outside; thinking that every night for a month or more she would have to endure that solitude with him.

The insect neared the top of the candle; paused just below the flame.

Could she tolerate his boorishness or, worse than that, the uncertainty that tensioned the atmosphere? A thousand things might happen in thirty days, but in five.... She shut her eyes.

When she opened them the insect was trembling on the lip of the candle. She perceived it, consciously, for the first time; expected to see it consumed. But suddenly it turned and crawled down the candle unsinged.

Her eyes narrowed. She gazed steadily at the candle-flame for a moment, then smiled, fearlessly.

She rose and followed the scent of tobacco.