“It was a long job, and when at the end of two hours Davidson thought he must be up to the clearing, the settlement slept already, the whole land of forests and rivers was asleep.

“Davidson, seeing a solitary light in the massed darkness of the shore, knew that it was burning in Bamtz’s house.  This was unexpected at this time of the night, but convenient as a guide.  By a turn of the screw and a touch of the helm he sheered the Sissie alongside Bamtz’s wharf—­a miserable structure of a dozen piles and a few planks, of which the ex-vagabond was very proud.  A couple of Kalashes jumped down on it, took a turn with the ropes thrown to them round the posts, and the Sissie came to rest without a single loud word or the slightest noise.  And just in time too, for the tide turned even before she was properly moored.

“Davidson had something to eat, and then, coming on deck for a last look round, noticed that the light was still burning in the house.

“This was very unusual, but since they were awake so late, Davidson thought that he would go up to say that he was in a hurry to be off and to ask that what rattans there were in store should be sent on board with the first sign of dawn.

“He stepped carefully over the shaky planks, not being anxious to get a sprained ankle, and picked his way across the waste ground to the foot of the house ladder.  The house was but a glorified hut on piles, unfenced and lonely.

“Like many a stout man, Davidson is very lightfooted.  He climbed the seven steps or so, stepped across the bamboo platform quietly, but what he saw through the doorway stopped him short.

“Four men were sitting by the light of a solitary candle.  There was a bottle, a jug and glasses on the table, but they were not engaged in drinking.  Two packs of cards were lying there too, but they were not preparing to play.  They were talking together in whispers, and remained quite unaware of him.  He himself was too astonished to make a sound for some time.  The world was still, except for the sibilation of the whispering heads bunched together over the table.

“And Davidson, as I have quoted him to you before, didn’t like it.  He didn’t like it at all.

“The situation ended with a scream proceeding from the dark, interior part of the room.  ‘O Davy! you’ve given me a turn.’

“Davidson made out beyond the table Anne’s very pale face.  She laughed a little hysterically, out of the deep shadows between the gloomy mat walls.  ‘Ha! ha! ha!’

“The four heads sprang apart at the first sound, and four pairs of eyes became fixed stonily on Davidson.  The woman came forward, having little more on her than a loose chintz wrapper and straw slippers on her bare feet.  Her head was tied up Malay fashion in a red handkerchief, with a mass of loose hair hanging under it behind.  Her professional, gay, European feathers had literally dropped off her in the course of these two years, but a long necklace of amber beads hung round her uncovered neck.  It was the only ornament she had left; Bamtz had sold all her poor-enough trinkets during the flight from Saigon—­when their association began.