sets."

"Right. Right," muttered Lakamba, pensively.

They had been sitting for the last hour together in the audience chamber
of the Rajah's house, for Babalatchi, as soon as he had witnessed the
landing of the Dutch officers, had crossed the river to report to his
master the events of the morning, and to confer with him upon the line of
conduct to pursue in the face of altered circumstances. They were both
puzzled and frightened by the unexpected turn the events had taken. The
Rajah, sitting crosslegged on his chair, looked fixedly at the floor;
Babalatchi was squatting close by in an attitude of deep dejection.

"And where did you say he is hiding now?" asked Lakamba, breaking at last
the silence full of gloomy forebodings in which they both had been lost
for a long while.

"In Bulangi's clearing--the furthest one, away from the house. They went
there that very night. The white man's daughter took him there. She
told me so herself, speaking to me openly, for she is half white and has
no decency. She said she was waiting for him while he was here; then,
after a long time, he came out of the darkness and fell at her feet
exhausted. He lay like one dead, but she brought him back to life in her
arms, and made him breathe again with her own breath. That is what she
said, speaking to my face, as I am speaking now to you, Rajah. She is
like a white woman and knows no shame."

He paused, deeply shocked. Lakamba nodded his head. "Well, and then?"
he asked.

"They called the old woman," went on Babalatchi, "and he told them
all--about the brig, and how he tried to kill many men. He knew the
Orang Blanda were very near, although he had said nothing to us about
that; he knew his great danger. He thought he had killed many, but there
were only two dead, as I have heard from the men of the sea that came in
the warship's boats."

"And the other man, he that was found in the river?" interrupted Lakamba.

"That was one of his boatmen. When his canoe was overturned by the logs
those two swam together, but the other man must have been hurt. Dain
swam, holding him up. He left him in the bushes when he went up to the
house. When they all came down his heart had ceased to beat; then the
old woman spoke; Dain thought it was good. He took off his anklet and
broke it, twisting it round the man's foot. His ring he put on that
slave's hand. He took off his sarong and clothed that thing that wanted
no clothes, the