Mr Lechworthy was much startled. “What do you mean, my dear?”
Hilda told him precisely what she had seen—the card-room with the four tables, at all of which play had taken place, and the other tables piled with glasses, gazogenes, and tiny decanters. She pointed out the parrot, and once more the bird became clearly articulate and quite reprehensible.
“I cannot understand it,” said Mr Lechworthy. “The thing’s incomprehensible. I must see into this—there may be something which I shall have to put a stop to. I ought not to have brought you here, Hilda. You must leave me and get back to the boat at once.”
Hilda laughed. “Oh, no. We’ll see it through together. Here comes our host.”
“Well, he shall have his chance to explain. He spoke of other white men—traders and planters. They may be responsible. It is impossible to believe that a minister of the true religion would—No, he will explain.”
Hilda and her uncle went forward to meet Mast. They stood now in full view of the house and close to the entrance to the garden. Mast was voluble in his apologies. He was sorry to have kept them so long, but he was afraid his native servants were not very intelligent. He feared that breakfast would be rather primitive when it did arrive. But they would have it in a spot from which one of the loveliest views in the island could be obtained.
Mr Lechworthy smiled pleasantly. He and his niece preferred to live quite simply, and it was most kind of Mr Mast to entertain them in any case. “While we are waiting for breakfast, perhaps you will show us the mission-house. We should particularly like to see that—the church, too, that you built for the natives.”
Cyril Mast made three different excuses in three different sentences. Lechworthy watched him narrowly, and drew one or two correct conclusions. His pleasant smile vanished, and beneath their heavy brows his eyes looked serious.
And then Bassett’s curious little figure appeared on the verandah. He had hurried through his breakfast and was hastening down to the beach to find out what he could of the schooner. But he was scarcely outside the doors before the wind, blowing now with increasing force, caught up his big felt hat and whirled it into the bushes. Bassett chased his hat, and for the moment did not notice the little group by the orange-trees. But Lechworthy’s quick eye had already recognised him.
“That man over there—is he also engaged in missionary work?”