eat down pitilessly, and he longed for rain;
but he knew that rain would bring no coolness; it would only make it
hotter and more steamy. He was a native of Aberdeen and his heart
yearned suddenly for the icy winds that whistled through the granite
streets of that city. Here he was a prisoner, imprisoned not only by
that placid sea, but by his hatred for that horrible old man. He pressed
his hands to his aching head. He would like to kill him. But he pulled
himself together. He must do something to distract his mind, and since
he could not read he thought he would set his private papers in order.
It was a job which he had long meant to do and which he had constantly
put off. He unlocked the drawer of his desk and took out a handful of
letters. He caught sight of his revolver. An impulse, no sooner realised
than set aside, to put a bullet through his head and so escape from the
intolerable bondage of life flashed through his mind. He noticed that in
the damp air the revolver was slightly rusted, and he got an oil rag and
began to clean it. It was while he was thus occupied that he grew aware
of someone slinking round the door. He looked up and called:

"Who is there?"

There was a moment's pause, then Manuma showed himself.

"What do you want?"

The chief's son stood for a moment, sullen and silent, and when he spoke
it was with a strangled voice.

"We can't pay twenty pounds. We haven't the money."

"What am I to do?" said Mackintosh. "You heard what Mr Walker said."

Manuma began to plead, half in Samoan and half in English. It was a
sing-song whine, with the quavering intonations of a beggar, and it
filled Mackintosh with disgust. It outraged him that the man should let
himself be so crushed. He was a pitiful object.

"I can do nothing," said Mackintosh irritably. "You know that Mr Walker
is master here."

Manuma was silent again. He still stood in the doorway.

"I am sick," he said at last. "Give me some medicine."

"What is the matter with you?"

"I do not know. I am sick. I have pains in my body."

"Don't stand there," said Mackintosh sharply. "Come in and let me look
at you."

Manuma entered the little room and stood before the desk.

"I have pains here and here."

He put his hands to his loins and his face assumed an expression of
pain. Suddenly Mackintosh grew conscious that the boy's eyes were
resting on the revolver which he had laid on the desk when Manuma
appeared in the doorway. There wa