e so, that Rajah of yours. He will come
to-morrow. I want you both to keep away from the house, and let me
attend to my business in peace."

Dain Maroola came the next day and had a long conversation with Almayer.
This was the beginning of a close and friendly intercourse which, at
first, was much remarked in Sambir, till the population got used to the
frequent sight of many fires burning in Almayer's campong, where
Maroola's men were warming themselves during the cold nights of the north-
east monsoon, while their master had long conferences with the Tuan
Putih--as they styled Almayer amongst themselves. Great was the
curiosity in Sambir on the subject of the new trader. Had he seen the
Sultan? What did the Sultan say? Had he given any presents? What would
he sell? What would he buy? Those were the questions broached eagerly
by the inhabitants of bamboo houses built over the river. Even in more
substantial buildings, in Abdulla's house, in the residences of principal
traders, Arab, Chinese, and Bugis, the excitement ran high, and lasted
many days. With inborn suspicion they would not believe the simple
account of himself the young trader was always ready to give. Yet it had
all the appearance of truth. He said he was a trader, and sold rice. He
did not want to buy gutta-percha or beeswax, because he intended to
employ his numerous crew in collecting trepang on the coral reefs outside
the river, and also in seeking for bird's nests on the mainland. Those
two articles he professed himself ready to buy if there were any to be
obtained in that way. He said he was from Bali, and a Brahmin, which
last statement he made good by refusing all food during his often
repeated visits to Lakamba's and Almayer's houses. To Lakamba he went
generally at night and had long audiences. Babalatchi, who was always a
third party at those meetings of potentate and trader, knew how to resist
all attempts on the part of the curious to ascertain the subject of so
many long talks. When questioned with languid courtesy by the grave
Abdulla he sought refuge in a vacant stare of his one eye, and in the
affectation of extreme simplicity.

"I am only my master's slave," murmured Babalatchi, in a hesitating
manner. Then as if making up his mind suddenly for a reckless confidence
he would inform Abdulla of some transaction in rice, repeating the words,
"A hundred big bags the Sultan bought; a hundred, Tuan!" in a tone of
mysterious