LITMIR.BIZ

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the British flag, my lord, just ahead. See the building to the right, sir?" said Mr. Saunders, more respectfully than ever and with real gratitude in his heart.

      "So it is! That's where he is. I wonder why he isn't down here to meet us."

      "Very likely he didn't know we were coming," said his wife icily.

      "Well, we'll look him up. Come along, everybody—Oh, I say, we can't leave this luggage unguarded. They say these fellows are the worst robbers east of London."

      It was finally decided, after a rather subdued discussion, that Mr. Saunders should proceed to the bank and rout out the dilatory representative of the British Government. Saunders looked down the sullen line of faces, and blanched to his toes. He hemmed and hawed and said something about his mother, which was wholly lost upon the barren waste that temporarily stood for a heart in Lord Deppingham's torso.

      "Tell him we'll wait here for him," pursued his lordship. "But remind him, damn him, that it's inexpressibly hot down here in the sun."

      They stood and watched the miserable Saunders tread gingerly up the filthy street, his knees crooking outwardly from time to time, his toes always touching the ground first, very much as if he were contemplating an instantaneous sprint in any direction but the one he was taking. Even the placid Deppingham was somewhat disturbed by the significant glances that followed their emissary as he passed by each separate knot of natives. He was distinctly dismayed when a dozen or more of the dark-faced watchers wandered slowly off after Mr. Saunders. It was clearly observed that Mr. Saunders stepped more nimbly after he became aware of this fact.

      "I do hope Mr. Saunders will come back alive," murmured Bromley, her ladyship's maid. The others started, for she had voiced the general thought.

      "He won't come back at all, Bromley, unless he comes back alive," said his lordship with a smile. It was a well-known fact that he never smiled except when his mind was troubled.

      "Goodness, Deppy," said his wife, recognising the symptom, "do you really think there is danger?"

      "My dear Aggy, who said there was any danger?" he exclaimed, and quickly looked out to sea. "I rather think we'll enjoy it here," he added after a moment's pause, in which he saw that the steamer was getting under way. The Japat company's tug was returning to the pier. Lord Deppingham sighed and then drew forth his cigarette case. "There!" he went on, peering intently up the street. "Saunders is gone."

      "Gone?" half shrieked her ladyship.

      "Into the bank," he added, scratching a match.

      "Deppy," she said after a moment, "I hope I was not too hard on the poor fellow."

      "Perhaps you won't be so nervous if you sit down and look at the sea," he said gently, and she immediately knew that he suggested it because he expected a tragedy in the opposite direction. She dropped Pong without another word, and, her face quite serious, seated herself upon the big trunk which he selected. He sat down beside her, and together they watched the long line of smoke far out at sea.

      They expected every minute to hear the shouts of assassins and the screams of the brave Mr. Saunders. Their apprehensions were sensibly increased by the mysterious actions of the half-naked loiterers. They seemed to consult among themselves for some time after the departure of the clerk, and then, to the horror of the servants, made off in various directions, more than one of them handling his ugly kris in an ominous manner. Bromley was not slow to acquaint his lordship with these movements. Deppingham felt a cold chill shoot up his spine, and he cleared his throat as if to shout after the disappearing steamer. But he maintained a brave front, or, more correctly, a brave back, for he refused to encourage the maid's fears by turning around.

      It was broiling hot in the sun, but no one thought of the white umbrellas. Saunders was the epitome of every thought.

      "Here he comes!" shouted the valet, joyously forgetting his station. His lordship still stared at the sea. Lady Deppingham's little jaws were shut tight and her fingers were clenched desperately in the effort to maintain the proper dignity before her servants.

      "Your lordship," said Mr. Saunders, three minutes later, "this is Mr. Bowles, his Majesty's agent here. He is come with me to—"

      It was then and not until then that his lordship turned his stare from the sea to the clerk and his companion.

      "Aw," he interrupted, "glad to see you, I'm sure. Would you be good enough to tell us how we are to reach the—er—château, and why the devil we can't get anybody to move our luggage?"

      Mr. Bowles, who had lived in Japat for sixteen years, was a tortuously slow Englishman with the curse of the clime still growing upon him. He was half asleep quite a good bit of the time, and wholly asleep during the remainder. A middle-aged man was he, yet he looked sixty. He afterward told Saunders that it seemed to take two days to make one in the beastly climate; that was why he was misled into putting off everything until the second day. The department had sent him out long ago at the request of Mr. Wyckholme; he had lost the energy to give up the post.

      "Mr.—er—Mr. Saunders, my lord, has told me that you have been unable to secure assistance in removing your belongings—" he began politely, but Deppingham interrupted him.

      "Where is the château? Are there no vans to be had?"

      "Everything is transferred by hand, my lord, and the château is two miles farther up the side of the mountain. It's quite a walk, sir."

      "Do you mean to say we are to walk?"

      "Yes, my lord, if you expect to go there."

      "Of course, we expect to go there. Are there no horses on the beastly island?"

      "Hundreds, my lord, but they belong to the people and no one but their owners ride them. One can't take them by the hour, you know. The servants at the château turned Mr. Skaggs's horses out to pasture before they left."

      "Before who left?"

      "The servants, my lord."

      Lady Deppingham's eyes grew wide with understanding.

      "You don't mean to say that the servants have left the place?" she cried.

      "Yes, my lady. They were natives, you know."

      "What's that got to do with it?" demanded Deppingham.

      "I'm afraid you don't understand the situation," said Mr. Bowles patiently. "You see, it's really a triangular controversy, if I may be so bold as to say so. Lady Deppingham is one of the angles; Mr. Browne, the American gentleman, is another; the native population is the last. Each wants to be the hypothenuse. While the interests of all three are merged in the real issue, there is, nevertheless, a decided disposition all around to make it an entirely one-sided affair."

      "I don't believe I grasp—" muttered Deppingham blankly.

      "I see perfectly," exclaimed his wife. "The natives are allied against us, just as we are, in a way, against them and Mr. Browne. Really, it seems quite natural, doesn't it, dear?" turning to her husband.

      "Very likely, but very unfortunate. It leaves us to broil our brains out down here on this pier. I say, Mr.—er—old chap, can't you possibly engage some sort of transportation for us? Really, you know, we can't stand here all day."

      "I've no doubt I can arrange it, my lord. If you will just wait here until I run back to the bank, I daresay I'll find a way. Perhaps you'd prefer standing under the awning until I return."

      The new arrivals glowered after him as he started off toward the bank. Then they moved over to the shelter of the awning.

      "Did he say he was going to run?" groaned his lordship. The progress of Bowles rivalled that of the historic tortoise.

      It was fully half an hour before he was seen coming down the street, followed by a score or more of natives, their dirty white robes flapping about their brown legs. At first they could not believe it was Bowles. Lord Deppingham had a sharp thrill of joy, but it was shortlived. Bowles had

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