Eager hands set to work to construct a suitable home for the tall arbiter.  He chose a position on the point that ran out into the sea beyond the town.  It was this point which the yacht was rounding on that memorable day when he and one other had watched it from the gallery, stirred by emotions they were never to forget.  Besides, the cliff on which the new bungalow stood represented the extreme western extremity of the island and therefore was nearest of all Japat to civilisation and—­Genevra.

Conditions in Aratat were not much changed from what they had been prior to the event of the legatory invaders.  The mines were in full operation; the bank was being conducted as of yore; the people were happy and confident; the town was fattening on its own flesh; the sun was as merciless and the moon as gentle as in the days of old.

The American bar changed hands with the arrival of the new forces from the Occident; the Jews and the English clerks, the surveyors and the engineers, the solicitors and the agents, were now domiciled in “headquarters.”  Chase turned over the “bar” when he retired from active service under Sir John Brodney.  With the transfer of the company’s business his work was finished.  Two young men from Sir John’s were now settled in Aratat as legal advisers to the islanders, Chase having declined to serve longer in that capacity.

He was now waiting for the steamer which was to take him to Cape Town on his way to England—­and home.

The chateau was closed and in the hands of a small army of caretakers.  The three widows of Jacob von Blitz were now married to separate and distinct husbands, all of whom retained their places as heads of departments at the chateau, proving that courtship had not been confined to the white people during the closing days of the siege.

The head of the bank was Oscar Arnheimer, Mr. Bowles having been deposed because his methods were even more obsolete than his coat of armour.  Selim disposed of his lawful interest in the corporation to Ben Ali, the new Cadi, and was waiting to accompany his master to America.  It may be well to add that the deal did not include the transfer of Neenah.  She was not for sale, said Selim to Ben Ali.

It was of Mr. Bowles that the three persons were talking as they stood in the evening glow.

“Yes, Selim,” said the tall man in flannels, “he’s a sort of old dog Tray—­ever faithful but not the right kind.  You don’t happen to know anything of old dog Tray, do you?  No?  I thought not.  Nor you, Neenah?  Well, he was——­”

“Was he the one who was poisoned at the chateau, excellency?” asked Neenah timidly.

“No, my dear,” he replied soberly.  “If I remember my history, he died in the seventeenth century or thereabouts.  It’s really of no consequence, however.  Any good, faithful dog will serve my purpose.  What I want to impress upon you is this:  it is most difficult for a faithful old dog to survive a change of masters.  It isn’t human nature—­or dog nature, either.  I’m glad that you are convinced, Neenah—­but please don’t tell Sahib Bowles that he is a dog.”