“I am afraid you will give me the credit of being somewhat of a bear,” continued Murray, “and really, Doctor Barnes, I am most grateful to you and your charming wife and daughter for your hospitality.”
“Oh, pray, say no more,” said Mrs Barnes. “You confer a favour on us by coming, though you have given us no English news as yet.”
“And I am afraid, my dear madam, that I shall have time to give you very little. At the risk of being considered rude, I must ask you to excuse us now.”
The doctor frowned and looked at Mr Braine, who glanced in turn at the shrewd elderly man, and he immediately searched for a silver snuff-box, and then spent a great deal of time over taking a pinch.
“Really, gentlemen,” said Murray, quickly, “all this is very strange. I can hardly think you credit me with rudeness in being hurried.”
“Oh no, Mr Murray, not at all,” said the doctor’s lady.—“Mr Braine, why do you not explain?”
“Well, really,” said that gentleman, “I thought an explanation should come from you as the host and hostess, but I will do my best.—The fact is, Mr Murray, this country is something like the west coast of Scotland in the old days, when every chief had his stronghold.”
“Oh yes, I have noted that,” said Murray, smiling; “and I see that they have both the plaid and dirk, though you call them sarong and kris.”
“Exactly. Well, my dear sir, the chief, rajah, prince, or whatever you like to call him, is omnipotent here.”
“Not always, Mr Braine,” said the doctor’s lady, merrily. “I think my husband rules over the rajah.”