seemed to him a
threatening symptom. When Heyst looked up, the Chinaman was already at
the door facing the room, not frightened, but alert.

"What's the matter?" asked Heyst.

Wang nodded his shaven head significantly at the curtain closing the
doorway of the bedroom.

"Me no likee," he repeated.

"What the devil do you mean?" Heyst was genuinely amazed. "Don't like
what?"

Wang pointed a long lemon-coloured finger at the motionless folds.

"Two," he said.

"Two what? I don't understand."

"Suppose you savee, you no like that fashion. Me savee plenty. Me go
now."

Heyst had risen from his chair, but Wang kept his ground in the doorway
for a little longer. His almond-shaped eyes imparted to his face an
expression of soft and sentimental melancholy. The muscles of his throat
moved visibly while he uttered a distinct and guttural "Goodbye" and
vanished from Number One's sight.

The Chinaman's departure altered the situation. Heyst reflected on what
would be best to do in view of that fact. For a long time he hesitated;
then, shrugging his shoulders wearily, he walked out on the veranda,
down the steps, and continued at a steady gait, with a thoughtful mien,
in the direction of his guests' bungalow. He wanted to make an important
communication to them, and he had no other object--least of all to give
them the shock of a surprise call. Nevertheless, their brutish henchman
not being on watch, it was Heyst's fate to startle Mr. Jones and his
secretary by his sudden appearance in the doorway. Their conversation
must have been very interesting to prevent them from hearing the
visitor's approach. In the dim room--the shutters were kept constantly
closed against the heat--Heyst saw them start apart. It was Mr. Jones
who spoke:

"Ah, here you are again! Come in, come in!"

Heyst, taking his hat off in the doorway, entered the room.

CHAPTER FIVE

Waking up suddenly, Lena looked, without raising her head from the
pillow, at the room in which she was alone. She got up quickly, as if
to counteract the awful sinking of her heart by the vigorous use of her
limbs. But this sinking was only momentary. Mistress of herself from
pride, from love, from necessity, and also because of a woman's
vanity in self-sacrifice, she met Heyst, returning from the strangers'
bungalow, with a dear glance and a smile.

The smile he managed to answer, but, noticing that he avoided her eyes,
she composed her lips and lowered her