“You are indeed Prince Djalma,” said the Smuggler, after a moment’s reflection. “I may speak. General Simon landed last night in Java, but on a desert part of the coast.”
“On a desert part?”
“Because he has to hide himself.”
“Hide himself!” exclaimed Djalma, in amazement; “why?”
“That I don’t know.”
“But where is he?” asked Djalma, growing pale with alarm.
“He is three leagues hence—near the sea-shore—in the ruins of Tchandi.”
“Obliged to hide himself!” repeated Djalma, and his countenance expressed increasing surprise and anxiety.
“Without being certain, I think it is because of a duel he fought in Sumatra,” said the Smuggler, mysteriously.
“A duel—with whom?”