“Ah! Go in pluckily and make a decent use of those crooked krises of theirs. There would be some sense in having them poisoned then.”
“Old Morley says he has never seen a kris-wound turn bad, and he has doctored scores. Says it’s all fudge about their being poisoned.”
“Well, he ought to know,” said the Captain; “but there’s no go in these Malay fellows. I don’t believe they would stir even if they saw one of their women snatched off the bank where she had gone to fetch water.”
The officer had been giving his opinions in a low, subdued voice, and Archie Maine was about to break out in defence of the people amongst whom they were stationed; but he closed his half-parted lips, for the silence within the mess-room was broken by the voice of the Resident, who suddenly broke out with:
“To go on with what I was saying at dinner—”
“Eh?” said the Major drowsily; and the two young men in the veranda turned slightly, to see, by the light of a faintly burning lamp, the old officer alter his position and re-spread a large bandana silk handkerchief over his head as if to screen it from the night air. “What were you saying at dinner?”
“About its seeming such an anomalous position.”
“What’s an anomalous position?” said the Major more drowsily.
“Why, for me to be supposed to be here, for diplomatic reasons, to advise Rajah Suleiman as to his governing his people, and to have you and your strong detachment stationed at the campong.”
“Anomalous!” said the Major, with a chuckle. “I call it wise. See what emphasis a body of fighting-men can give to your advice.”