They expected every minute to hear the shouts of assassins and the screams of the brave Mr. Saunders.  Their apprehensions were sensibly increased by the mysterious actions of the half-naked loiterers.  They seemed to consult among themselves for some time after the departure of the clerk, and then, to the horror of the servants, made off in various directions, more than one of them handling his ugly kris in an ominous manner.  Bromley was not slow to acquaint his lordship with these movements.  Deppingham felt a cold chill shoot up his spine, and he cleared his throat as if to shout after the disappearing steamer.  But he maintained a brave front, or, more correctly, a brave back, for he refused to encourage the maid’s fears by turning around.

It was broiling hot in the sun, but no one thought of the white umbrellas.  Saunders was the epitome of every thought.

“Here he comes!” shouted the valet, joyously forgetting his station.  His lordship still stared at the sea.  Lady Deppingham’s little jaws were shut tight and her fingers were clenched desperately in the effort to maintain the proper dignity before her servants.

“Your lordship,” said Mr. Saunders, three minutes later, “this is Mr. Bowles, his Majesty’s agent here.  He is come with me to—­”

It was then and not until then that his lordship turned his stare from the sea to the clerk and his companion.

“Aw,” he interrupted, “glad to see you, I’m sure.  Would you be good enough to tell us how we are to reach the—­er—­chateau, and why the devil we can’t get anybody to move our luggage?”

Mr. Bowles, who had lived in Japat for sixteen years, was a tortuously slow Englishman with the curse of the clime still growing upon him.  He was half asleep quite a good bit of the time, and wholly asleep during the remainder.  A middle-aged man was he, yet he looked sixty.  He afterward told Saunders that it seemed to take two days to make one in the beastly climate; that was why he was misled into putting off everything until the second day.  The department had sent him out long ago at the request of Mr. Wyckholme; he had lost the energy to give up the post.

“Mr.—­er—­Mr. Saunders, my lord, has told me that you have been unable to secure assistance in removing your belongings—­” he began politely, but Deppingham interrupted him.

“Where is the chateau?  Are there no vans to be had?”

“Everything is transferred by hand, my lord, and the chateau is two miles farther up the side of the mountain.  It’s quite a walk, sir.”

“Do you mean to say we are to walk?”

“Yes, my lord, if you expect to go there.”

“Of course, we expect to go there.  Are there no horses on the beastly island?”

“Hundreds, my lord, but they belong to the people and no one but their owners ride them.  One can’t take them by the hour, you know.  The servants at the chateau turned Mr. Skaggs’s horses out to pasture before they left.”