Kate still looked at him with a steady eye. "Of course it is Laura that you are really working for."
Carter cleared his throat. "Of course," he said. "Well, if you and Laura will excuse me, I'll go into the other room now and post up my books." He got up and walked towards the mess-room door.
Cascaes, who had been sitting at the other end of the table with the Portuguese and their wives, got up, and went towards the vacant place. But Carter turned at the door and called him sharply. "I'm sorry to interrupt further," he said, "but I want your valuable assistance, Mr. Cascaes. So come along with me now."
CHAPTER XII
EXHIBITS ANTISEPTICS
The night was hot, and steamy, and still. Even the insect hum was pitched on a drowsy note. The darkness seemed almost fat in its greasy heaviness. Two of the sweating factory boys were playing tom-tom on upturned kerosene cans, and a third was throwing in an erratic obligato with two pieces of scrap iron for an instrument. And from the river behind a pair of crocodiles made unpleasant noises with irritating persistency. Carter thought, too, that above the decay smell of the factory rubber store, the stable smell of the Krooboys, the crushed-marigold smell of the river, he could also catch the musky odor of the crocodiles, and felt vaguely sickened thereby.
"... Those last-a bags of kernels I have not got-a weighed, senhor. I was weary, and so I go-a to change and shave for dinner."
"Why don't you shave in the morning, instead of carrying a chin like a besom all through the day? I suppose, as usual, you were going to weigh up those kernels to-morrow?"
"You are most indulgent, senhor."
"I am nothing of the kind. Sufficient for the day is the work thereof, and the man that puts it off till to-morrow gets out of here. Like to hand in your resignation?"