“Well, there’s David dead on the doorstep,—­’e probably shot ’imself about midnight,—­and Llewellyn comes rollin’ in a couple o’ hours later, an’ stumbles over ’is bloody corpse.  ’E’s tired, but ’e gets a lantern, an’ sees the kid there, like a bleedin’ wreck on the reef.  It fair knocks ‘im out, an’ ‘e sits down on the same step, an’ when the kanaka comes in the mornin’ to sweep up, ‘e fin’s the two o’ them.”

Landers broke in: 

“Blow me!  I’d ‘a’ hated to been that poor kanaka!  But Doctor Cassiou, the coroner, said it was suicide all right.  Llewellyn’s in the clear.”

“Of course, ’e ‘s in the clear, an’ proper right,” said Pincher, irritatedly.  “But when the letter’s mailed to ol’ Morton in Frisco, ‘e comes down on the nex’ steamer, an’ carries a gun to kill Llewellyn, an’ tells everybody ’at Llewellyn dragged his nephew to ‘ell, an’ M’seer Lontane takes ’is gun away when Llewellyn meets ’im in Lovaina’s porch, an’ ‘e pulls the gun, an’ the Dummy stops ’im, and Llewellyn grabs a knife off the table.  Why, there’s some reason for ‘im comin’ in ‘ere like a bloody queer un an’ abusin’ us.”

“Hell! that’s all over!” said Hallman.  “I’ll tell you, Llewellyn’s always been sour.  That’s what that dam’ German university highfalutin’ education does for you.  It takes the guts out of you.  I know.  I never had any of it.  I’m a business man, by God! and I’m not crammed full of Dago and other rot.  All the Davids in the world could croak on my doorstep, and if the police couldn’t get me for it, I’d worry.  I—­”

“Belay there!” Lying Bill shouted at Hallman.  “You don’t know Llewellyn like I do.  How about the tupapau, the bloody ghosts?  You forget that Llewellyn’s a quarter Kanaka, an’ born ’ere.  All that German university stuff ain’t no good against the tupapau.  Suppose you were part Kanaka, an’ the kid ’ad done what ’e did?  I’ve seen some things myself in these waters.  That’s what’s eatin’ Llewellyn, an’, believe me, it’s goin’ to kill ’im if he don’t bloody well drink ’imself dead, first.  I’ve seen too many Kanakas go that way when the tahua got the tupapau after them.  Llewellyn remembers what Lovaina said ol’ man Morton hollered when M’seer Lontane took the gun away from him at the Tiare.  ‘All right!’ hollered the uncle.  ’All right!  I’ll leave it to God!’ The ol’ boy loved that kid.  ’E told Lovaina ’at ’is whole bloody family was drowned when the Rio Janeiro went down off Mile Rock in Frisco bay.  The kid was ‘is sister’s only child, an’ ’is uncle left a thousand francs with the American consul for a proper tombstone on ‘is grave in the cemetery.  The ol’ gent worshipped that kid.”

Our session was over, the dinner hour having come; but Hallman had his final say: 

“If Llewellyn ’s got the tupapau horrors, for God’s sake! let him stay away from the club.  It’s got so I hate to see him come in here, looking like a death’s head.  He spoils my drink.  I’d rather be in the Marquesas with old Hemeury Francois, who is dyin’ by inches of the spell Mohuto ’s put on him.  They’re alike, these Kanakas; they’re afraid of God and the devil, their own and the dam’ missionary outfit, too.  They’ve got them coming and going.  No wonder they’re getting so scarce you can’t get any work done.”