me visible again rather suddenly,
his eyes sunk in his head, and with a sort of guarded attitude, as if
afraid someone would reproach him with the death of Morrison.

Naive Heyst! As if anybody would . . . Nobody amongst us had any
interest in men who went home. They were all right; they did not count
any more. Going to Europe was nearly as final as going to Heaven. It
removed a man from the world of hazard and adventure.

As a matter of fact, many of us did not hear of this death till months
afterwards--from Schomberg, who disliked Heyst gratuitously and made up
a piece of sinister whispered gossip:

"That's what comes of having anything to do with that fellow. He
squeezes you dry like a lemon, then chucks you out--sends you home to
die. Take warning by Morrison!"

Of course, we laughed at the innkeeper's suggestions of black mystery.
Several of us heard that Heyst was prepared to go to Europe himself,
to push on his coal enterprise personally; but he never went. It wasn't
necessary. The company was formed without him, and his nomination of
manager in the tropics came out to him by post.

From the first he had selected Samburan, or Round Island, for the
central station. Some copies of the prospectus issued in Europe, having
found their way out East, were passed from hand to hand. We greatly
admired the map which accompanied them for the edification of the
shareholders. On it Samburan was represented as the central spot of the
Eastern Hemisphere with its name engraved in enormous capitals. Heavy
lines radiated from it in all directions through the tropics, figuring a
mysterious and effective star--lines of influence or lines of distance,
or something of that sort. Company promoters have an imagination of
their own. There's no more romantic temperament on earth than the
temperament of a company promoter. Engineers came out, coolies were
imported, bungalows were put up on Samburan, a gallery driven into the
hillside, and actually some coal got out.

These manifestations shook the soberest minds. For a time everybody in
the islands was talking of the Tropical Belt Coal, and even those who
smiled quietly to themselves were only hiding their uneasiness. Oh, yes;
it had come, and anybody could see what would be the consequences--the
end of the individual trader, smothered under a great invasion of
steamers. We could not afford to buy steamers. Not we. And Heyst was the
manager.

"You know, Heyst, enchanted Heyst."