The Exiles of Faloo

BY BARRY PAIN AUTHOR OF “THE GIFTED FAMILY”
SECOND EDITION
METHUEN & CO. 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. LONDON
First Published ... March 10th 1910 Second Edition ... March 1910

THE EXILES OF FALOO
Overhead a blue sky without a cloud; in the distance the sound of the surf—a muffled bass which broke on the tink of the bell at the French Mission or the scream of the parrot on the broad verandah of the Exiles’ Club.
On the lawn in front of the verandah two natives had just finished their reluctant work with the mower. They wore loin-cloths of tappa and nothing else. The head-gardener wore a loin-cloth of tappa and a white evening-dress waistcoat, the latter being the gift of Dr Soames Pryce. The waistcoat was splendid but unclean. The head-gardener had been inspecting the work of the others from a recumbent position. All three passed away now along the grass path under the laden orange trees. Two gorgeous butterflies chased one another over the lawn in the sunshine.

The plaited blind in front of the French windows was pushed back and Sir John Sweetling appeared on the verandah. He was a man of fifty-five, six feet in height and inclined to corpulence. On the whole a handsome man, with a short white beard and moustache neatly trimmed, and fearless blue eyes under shaggy white brows. The nose was perhaps a trifle nosey. He wore a white silk shirt, white ducks, a brown holland jacket and a panama of the finest texture.
Sir John lingered for a moment beside the parrot’s perch. He scratched the bird’s neck, and said in an affectionate voice, “Poor old Polly.”
The parrot bent down and got to work with its beak on the perch, much as if the perch had been a steel and the beak a carving-knife which it was trying to sharpen. Then it sat up, drew its indecent lids over its solemn eyes once or twice, and spoke distinctly.