“That must be got out,” said the King. “If it is claimed by those who have the right, I hand it over.”

“I think nothing will be claimed,” said Lechworthy.

“Sir John Sweetling chose well,” said the King, with a sweep of his arm. “Look—the finest site on the island. Here your native church might have stood.”

“It may stand there yet. I know, sir, how much you feel my abandonment of your scheme. It is no longer possible, but the results which you wished to obtain by it are still possible. Listen—in one night many British subjects were murdered here. Remember that, whenever you think that I could still do as I had intended.”

“They were criminals.”

“Great Britain would not recognise the right of your people to punish them. And one of the men was a police-officer, sent here, doing his duty.”

“But my people—think how they were provoked into rebellion. Have they not been punished? They have given more than a life for a life. And those that survive are still being punished. I have done all that I could.”

“That is true. The blame is not with the responsible government of the island. Be thankful for that; otherwise you would have had a punitive expedition here. As it is, the whole story must be told to Scotland Yard and to those of my friends to whom I have already written. I hope that I shall convince and satisfy them, and my story will be supported by the sworn statement which I shall get from Pryce. I think you have nothing to fear. But you must no longer expect protection of the kind you wanted. At the best, that would perhaps only have been possible if there had been raised a strong public sentiment, in France as well as in Great Britain, on the depopulation question, and if the two powers had been willing to co-operate. If this story were told, public sentiment would be dead against you. You may understand, and I may understand, how all this happened, but the public would never understand. Your people would seem to them cruel and bloodthirsty; your government of them would seem unstable and impotent; they would not wish to perpetuate either. There would be no public sympathy. If I attempted to carry out your scheme, the only result would be that a few travellers would turn out of their course from curiosity to visit your island, and that precautions would be taken, of a kind which you would resent, to see that they came to no harm.”

“My people are not cruel,” said the King. “They are gentle, a little lazy, but good-humoured, if the white man will leave them alone. To-day I have more power than ever before; I shall not be again disobeyed.”

“I believe that to be true,” said Lechworthy. “But we are a cautious people, and this outbreak is dead against you. It spoils the record. Facts matter less than the way people will look at them. Once one has to explain away, one exposes a weakness and provokes a mistrust; the chance was never too strong, and with that weakness the chance vanishes altogether.”