Rupert nodded. His head was in a whirl—and his heart. He had reached the end of his journey. He was free! And yet——
"By the by, have you decided what you're going to do? My offer is still open. Your mining knowledge would be very useful to me in Borneo, although you haven't got the certificate of the School of Mines. It will be rough work—dangerous work at times, as I told you, for we are going up to the unknown interior where the Head-hunting Muruts live, and you may not see civilisation again for twelve months."
Rupert looked him in the face. Patterson was a "white man" he knew. A straight man.
"I have thought it all over, and I decided last night to accept your offer if you are still willing to take me after you have heard why I am here. I can't explain everything, but what I shall tell you is only what you ought to know. Come down to my cabin and I will tell you who I am."
In the saloon of the boat—deserted now—where they had spent so many happy weeks, sharing storm and sunshine, dangers and pleasures, unconsciously growing to know one another, as men ashore never can.
A genuine friendship, backed by respect, had been formed between Rupert and Patterson. The former had only just realised what this friendship had done for him.
What it meant for him now! He, who had been for so many months a convict, cut off from all communications with his fellows—a mere machine, a cypher! Number 381!
Patterson had offered him a job. Work after his own heart. It was only now, at the last moment, that Rupert realised he could not accept it, could not continue the friendship that had commenced, and which meant so much to him, unless he told Patterson who and what he was!
An escaped convict, a felon with a price on his head!
A nice companion for this straight, clean Englishman, who proposed to take him, alone, in the vast interior of wild Borneo.