"Mr. Moore; I am the man from the Jen Kee Road place!" He radiated a splendid calm.
Peggy cowered against her sister, with a look of sleepy mystification, while Anthony, glancing to Peter for command, was fingering his revolver in anxious indecision. Already one of the coolies was sidling toward him.
"You were a deck coolie this morning," Peter replied.
The Chinese took a step toward him. Peter felt Romola cringe at his side. He wondered at this.
"Shall we wait until sunrise, or——"
A sudden babble of men's voices on the other side of the partition checked the Chinese, while a look of misunderstanding came over his bland countenance.
"Moore! Moore! Where are you?" These were the rich tones of a man accustomed to command.
And instantly the small room seemed to be overflowing with the white and blue of uniforms.
Peggy stood straight up with a wondering gasp. Confronting her was a tall and handsome youth with the gold-and-black epaulets of his majesty's service at the shoulder-straps of his splendid white uniform. A cutlass in a nickeled case hung from a polished leather belt, and depending from it also was an empty leather holster. Gripped threateningly in his right hand was a blue revolver.
The shrill voice of the man from the Jen Kee Road place rose sharply above the momentary tumult.