“Coat,” said the doctor. “Gentleman’s; and this is a small white tie.”
“Here is a handkerchief,” said old Stuart, picking up what looked to be a mere wisp.
This the doctor took and rinsed in the clear river, starting back on the instant, and only just in time for, attracted by the motion of the white handkerchief in the water, a small crocodile of some six feet long partially threw itself out of the stream; but falling short of its prey, the reptile shuffled back and was gone.
No one spoke; but the presence of these creatures in such abundance, combined with their daring, whispered plainly enough to the party assembled what must be the fate of one who was thrown out into the stream.
The doctor took a step or two back, and then, as coolly as if nothing had occurred, he shook out the folds of the handkerchief—one of a very delicate texture and edged with lace, while in one corner were the two letters, “H.P.,” embroidered by a woman’s hand.
There was a deep groan here, and as the gentlemen turned, it was to see that Murad was resting his face upon a bamboo fence, his hands to his brow, and, turned from them as he was, the lookers-on could see that his breast was heaving, and that the young man was suffering great agony of mind.
“Collect all these together,” said the doctor in a whisper; and one of the soldiers proceeded to obey his orders, when the young Malay leaped upon him fiercely, and tore the handkerchief from his grasp, thrust it into his bosom, and strode away.
The Resident did not move, but stood gazing after the Sultan, his brows contracted, and a peculiar look of dislike gathering in his eyes; but he did not speak, and without a word the various relics were gathered into a basket and carried across to the Residency island, where Dr Bolter announced that he would make a further and more searching examination.
Then the party separated, save that the doctor and Neil Harley had a long conversation together, in which the latter related how thoroughly the river banks had now been searched by the boats enlisted to carry the soldiers, who were most energetically aided by the people belonging to Rajah Murad and the Inche Maida, both of whom continued to almost live at the station, only going away for a few hours at a time to see to their own affairs, journeys from which they came back, with the rowers of the small boats they used looking terribly distressed.
“You can trust me, Harley,” said the doctor. “I will not chatter, even to my wife, though she is to be trusted, too. How do you feel about the matter now?”