ingly. Lingard
looked at him with concern.

"What did she mean by it?" he muttered, thoughtfully.

"Mean! She is crazy, I tell you--and I will be, very soon, if this
lasts!"

"Just a little patience, Kaspar," pleaded Lingard. "A day or so more."

Relieved or tired by his violent outburst, Almayer calmed down, picked
up his hat and, leaning against the bulwark, commenced to fan himself
with it.

"Days do pass," he said, resignedly--"but that kind of thing makes a
man old before his time. What is there to think about?--I can't imagine!
Abdulla says plainly that if you undertake to pilot his ship out and
instruct the half-caste, he will drop Willems like a hot potato and be
your friend ever after. I believe him perfectly, as to Willems. It's so
natural. As to being your friend it's a lie of course, but we need
not bother about that just yet. You just say yes to Abdulla, and then
whatever happens to Willems will be nobody's business."

He interrupted himself and remained silent for a while, glaring about
with set teeth and dilated nostrils.

"You leave it to me. I'll see to it that something happens to him," he
said at last, with calm ferocity. Lingard smiled faintly.

"The fellow isn't worth a shot. Not the trouble of it," he whispered, as
if to himself. Almayer fired up suddenly.

"That's what you think," he cried. "You haven't been sewn up in your
hammock to be made a laughing-stock of before a parcel of savages. Why!
I daren't look anybody here in the face while that scoundrel is alive. I
will . . . I will settle him."

"I don't think you will," growled Lingard.

"Do you think I am afraid of him?"

"Bless you! no!" said Lingard with alacrity. "Afraid! Not you. I know
you. I don't doubt your courage. It's your head, my boy, your head that
I . . ."

"That's it," said the aggrieved Almayer. "Go on. Why don't you call me a
fool at once?"

"Because I don't want to," burst out Lingard, with nervous irritability.
"If I wanted to call you a fool, I would do so without asking your
leave." He began to walk athwart the narrow quarter-deck, kicking ropes'
ends out of his way and growling to himself: "Delicate gentleman . . .
what next? . . . I've done man's work before you could toddle.
Understand . . . say what I like."

"Well! well!" said Almayer, with affected resignation. "There's no
talking to you these last few days." He put on his hat, strolled to
the gangway and stopped, one foot on the little inside lad