The Malay made no answer.
“Murray is a strong man, brave as a lion; the doctor, Greig, and I are good shots. We will fight for you to the death.”
“It is time to go,” said the Tumongong, coldly; and he walked out into the veranda, and gave the guard below an order to be in readiness.
“It would be to the death,” he said, quietly, as he returned. “No; we are not strong enough. It is not for want of courage. I could kris him, but it would be too cowardly. If we fought, it would mean death to your friends and the boys—the ladies left alone to his mercy. There: I am your friend. I have trusted you: my life is in your hands.”
“It has been for months,” said Mr Braine, quietly; “I have known your secret for long.”
“Are you ready?” said the Tumongong, loudly. Then in a low tone—“Bring your weapons.”
Five minutes after, the Resident was being marched to the doctor’s, where his coming was eagerly greeted; and the guard there being strengthened by the newcomers, the Tumongong looking grave, and then going slowly off, followed by his attendants.
“Frank? Tell me about Frank,” cried Mrs Braine, clinging to her husband’s hand.
“Mr Murray—Ned?” cried Amy, seizing the other.
“All well as yet,” said the Resident, sadly.