Of all the people on board she alone did not know anything of that conference.  In her deep and aimless thinking she had only become aware of the absence of the slightest sound on board the Emma.  Not a rustle, not a footfall.  The public view of Jorgenson and Jaffir in deep consultation had the effect of taking all wish to move from every man.

Twilight enveloped the two figures forward while they talked, looking in the stillness of their pose like carved figures of European and Asiatic contrasted in intimate contact.  The deepening dusk had nearly effaced them when at last they rose without warning, as it were, and thrilling the heart of the beholders by the sudden movement.  But they did not separate at once.  They lingered in their high place as if awaiting the fall of complete darkness, a fit ending to their mysterious communion.  Jaffir had given Jorgenson the whole story of the ring, the symbol of a friendship matured and confirmed on the night of defeat, on the night of flight from a far-distant land sleeping unmoved under the wrath and fire of heaven.

“Yes, Tuan,” continued Jaffir, “it was first sent out to the white man, on a night of mortal danger, a present to remember a friend by.  I was the bearer of it then even as I am now.  Then, as now, it was given to me and I was told to save myself and hand the ring over in confirmation of my message.  I did so and that white man seemed to still the very storm to save my Rajah.  He was not one to depart and forget him whom he had once called his friend.  My message was but a message of good-bye, but the charm of the ring was strong enough to draw all the power of that white man to the help of my master.  Now I have no words to say.  Rajah Hassim asks for nothing.  But what of that?  By the mercy of Allah all things are the same, the compassion of the Most High, the power of the ring, the heart of the white man.  Nothing is changed, only the friendship is a little older and love has grown because of the shared dangers and long companionship.  Therefore, Tuan, I have no fear.  But how am I to get the ring to the Rajah Laut?  Just hand it to him.  The last breath would be time enough if they were to spear me at his feet.  But alas! the bush is full of Tengga’s men, the beach is open and I could never even hope to reach the gate.”

Jorgenson, with his hands deep in the pockets of his tunic, listened, looking down.  Jaffir showed as much consternation as his nature was capable of.

“Our refuge is with God,” he murmured.  “But what is to be done?  Has your wisdom no stratagem, O Tuan?”

Jorgenson did not answer.  It appeared as though he had no stratagem.  But God is great and Jaffir waited on the other’s immobility, anxious but patient, perplexed yet hopeful in his grim way, while the night flowing on from the dark forest near by hid their two figures from the sight of observing men.  Before the silence of Jorgenson Jaffir began to talk practically.  Now that Tengga had thrown