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Updated: June 9, 2025
I am sure Doctor Chantel will agree with me." "Ah, indeed," said the man in military blue, with a courtier's bow. Both air and accent were French. "Most welcome." "Let's all have a drink," cried Heywood. Despite his many glasses at dinner, he spoke with the alacrity of a new idea. "O Boy, whiskey Ho-lan suey, fai di!" Away bounded the boy marker like a tennis-ball. "Hello, Wutzler's off already!"
Chantel struck a few jangling chords, and skipping adroitly over sick notes, ran a flourish. The billiard-players joined the circle, with absent, serious faces. The singer cleared his throat, took on a preternatural solemnity, and began. In a dismal, gruff voice, he proclaimed himself a miner, deep, deep down: "And few, I trow, of my being know, And few that an atom care!"
Chantel examined his finger-tips as though for some defect; then, snatching up the cards, shuffled and dealt with intense precision. The game went on as before. "I read alzo," stammered Wutzler, like a timid scholar encouraged to lecture, "I read zo how your Englishman, Rawf Ralli, he spreadt der fine clock for your Queen, and lern your Queen smoking, no?"
He should be riding there, in the dusk of this lonely and cruel land. Heywood had thrown after them a single gloomy stare, down the pointed aisle of bamboos. "Well matched!" he growled. "Chantel He bounds in the saddle, and he bounds afoot!" Rudolph knew that he had hated Chantel at sight. He could not bring himself, next day, to join their party for tiffin at the Flowery Pagoda.
A Cingalese box dropped and burst open, scattering bright stones, false or precious, broadcast. She trampled them in her blind and furious search. "Come," said Chantel, and snatched at her. "Leave those. Come to the boat. Every minute "
Just before he entered, she tore herself free and went unsteadily across the room. Chantel, white and abject, turned as in panic. "Oh!" Plainly he had not expected to see another face as white as his own. Breathless and trembling, he spoke in a strangely little voice; but his staring eyes lighted with a sudden and desperate resolution. "Help me with her," he begged. "She won't listen.
"What boat?" said Rudolph. Chantel did not look up. "I have one ready and stocked," he mumbled, tugging with his teeth at the knot in the sarong corners. "You can come. We'll drop down the river, and try it along the coast. Only chance. Come on." He rose, and started for the door, slinging the bright-colored bundle over his shoulder. "Come on," he snarled.
"Kaú fai!" shrilled the voices below; and then in a fainter gabble, as though hurrying off toward the sound, "kaú fai!" "The Black Dog," said Heywood, quietly. "He has barked. Earlier than we figured, Gilly. Lucky the scaffolding's up. Gentlemen, we all know our posts. Guns are in the first bedroom. Quietly, now. Rudie, go call Chantel. Don't frighten the women.
She went with life, departing into a dream. This glossy gunwale, polished by bare feet, was after all the sole reality, a shining line between life and death. "Then I must die," he groaned, and wrenched his hands away from that perilous boundary. He vaguely heard her cry out, vaguely saw Chantel rise above the lantern and slash down at him with the lowdah's pole.
With rising spirits, he traced an eager finger along the map. "I must run a good strong bamboo scaffold along the inside wall, with plenty of sand-bags ready for loopholing specially atop the servants' quarters and pony-shed, and in that northeast angle, where we'll throw up a mound or platform. What do you say? Suggestions, please!" Chantel, humming a tune, reached for his helmet, and rose.
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