into the veranda, and down
the steps to plunge below the house into the intense darkness, where all
was now silent.

"Who's there?" said the doctor. "Driscol, where are you?"

There was no reply.

"Surely the poor fellow has not been stabbed!" cried the doctor
excitedly. "Wait till I fetch a light."

He hurried back, leaving Murray and Mr Braine trying in vain to
penetrate the darkness, so as to make out whether any one was near.
Then the doctor's steps were heard overhead, and his voice came down so
distinctly, that both felt how a listener would hear every word.

"Don't be alarmed," he said. "Driscol caught some Malay scoundrel
prowling about."

"Where is my husband!" said Mrs Braine.

"Down below with Murray. How is Amy?"

"Calmer now."

"That's right. Back directly."

And then the doctor's step made the bamboo creak as he crossed the room.

"Whoever it was must have heard every word we said," whispered Mr
Braine.

Just then the lamp the doctor carried shone down through the steps, and
directly after among the posts which supported the house.

"Well?" he said, holding the lamp above his head; "heard any one?"

"Yes," said Mr Braine in a low tone. "You."

"You heard me speaking?"

"Every word you said."

"How unfortunate! But where is my man? There is no one here."

"Thank goodness!" said Mr Braine. "I was afraid the poor fellow had
been stabbed. But let's look round."

The lamp's light was directed in all directions, but there was no sign
except in one spot where the ground had been trampled, and a
climbing-plant torn down.

"We must try to follow the trail," said the doctor; but at that moment
steps were heard, and the whisking noise of some body passing through
the bushes and shrubs the doctor had collected about the back of his
house.

"Who's that?" cried Mr Braine, sharply.

"Only me, sor. Is the master there? Oh, there you are, sor. I wint
after him, sor, for he made me a bit mad shticking at me with his kris
thing."

"Are you wounded?"

"Only just a bit of a prick, sor. I've put my hankychy round it. In me
arm here. It's jist nawthing."

"But who was it? What does it mean?" said the doctor, hastily examining
the man's arm, while Mr Braine held the light.

"Who was it, sor? Well, I hardly know. It was so dark, but if I was to
guess by the face of the man, I should say it was Mr Tumongong--an'
what a name for a gintleman!--and what does it mane? Well, sor,