rothers were exactly the men
he wanted. Those fellows were sea gipsies, and could disappear without
attracting notice; and if they returned, nobody--and Lingard least of
all--would dream of seeking information from them. Moreover, they had
no personal interest of any kind in Sambir affairs--had taken no
sides--would know nothing anyway.

He called in a strong voice: "Mrs. Willems!"

She came out quickly, almost startling him, so much did she appear as
though she had surged up through the floor, on the other side of the
table. The lamp was between them, and Almayer moved it aside, looking up
at her from his chair. She was crying. She was crying gently, silently,
in a ceaseless welling up of tears that did not fall in drops, but
seemed to overflow in a clear sheet from under her eyelids--seemed
to flow at once all over her face, her cheeks, and over her chin that
glistened with moisture in the light. Her breast and her shoulders were
shaken repeatedly by a convulsive and noiseless catching in her breath,
and after every spasmodic sob her sorrowful little head, tied up in
a red kerchief, trembled on her long neck, round which her bony hand
gathered and clasped the disarranged dress.

"Compose yourself, Mrs. Willems," said Almayer.

She emitted an inarticulate sound that seemed to be a faint, a very far
off, a hardly audible cry of mortal distress. Then the tears went on
flowing in profound stillness.

"You must understand that I have told you all this because I am your
friend--real friend," said Almayer, after looking at her for some time
with visible dissatisfaction. "You, his wife, ought to know the danger
he is in. Captain Lingard is a terrible man, you know."

She blubbered out, sniffing and sobbing together.

"Do you . . . you . . . speak . . . the . . . the truth now?"

"Upon my word of honour. On the head of my child," protested Almayer. "I
had to deceive you till now because of Captain Lingard. But I couldn't
bear it. Think only what a risk I run in telling you--if ever Lingard
was to know! Why should I do it? Pure friendship. Dear Peter was my
colleague in Macassar for years, you know."

"What shall I do . . . what shall I do!" she exclaimed, faintly, looking
around on every side as if she could not make up her mind which way to
rush off.

"You must help him to clear out, now Lingard is away. He offended
Lingard, and that's no joke. Lingard said he would kill him. He will do
it, too," said Almayer, ear