"Yes, they have been here right enough, and I am rather glad of it for one thing. They would not be able to resist the opium, and when we do catch up with them they will be like children in our hands. We are not going to have our walk for nothing."
"I don't mind as long as we get outside this place," Wilfrid said. "It seems impossible that anybody could live in an atmosphere like this. I hope that Chinaman of yours isn't going to keep us here much longer."
After what seemed to be an interminable time the proprietor of the opium den returned, accompanied by a fellow-countryman almost as wrinkled and quite as dirty as himself. It was only from the alertness of his movements that the newcomer proclaimed the fact that he was much younger than the master of the ceremonies. His face was suspicious and sullen, and there was no sign of animation in his eyes till Uzali produced a sovereign from his pocket.
"Malays," he said curtly. "North Borneo men. There were two or three of them here this evening who have now gone. Show me where to find them and this piece of money is yours."
A transformation came over the cunning face of the listener. He held out a lean, yellow claw which trembled violently as the piece of gold was passed into it.
"You stay here, small piecie," he said, "and I go find. Maybe, small piecie be long piecie, and I find all le same."
"We had better go with him," Uzali suggested.
The Chinaman winked slightly and shook his head. Even the display of a second piece of money failed to shake his determination, though his eyes fairly watered at the sight of it.
"No, no, I not go at all," he said sulkily. "All same piecie gold, good thing, but life better still."
Uzali gave it up with a gesture of despair. There was nothing for it but to wait in that loathsome atmosphere till the messenger came back. The minutes dragged along; a quarter of an hour passed and then the messenger returned. He held up his hand as a sign for the others to follow.