He rose and looked out across the veranda. Murkard was standing at his hut door, calling to a Kanaka on the beach. Ellison put on his hat and went across to him. Hearing steps behind him, Murkard turned round, and the other saw his face. It was of a whitey-gray colour, almost that of zinc; the pouches under his eyes were dark and swollen, while the eyes themselves had a shifty trick of roaming about as he talked. His hair was now almost entirely gray over the temples. His hands shook violently. He seemed to have aged years in that one month.
"Why, Murkard, how's it with you?" Ellison began briskly, resolved not to show that he noticed the queerness of his greeting. "But you're not looking well, man."
"I am quite well—quite well. I've had a touch of fever lately, but I'm better now. I'm glad to see you back. I hope you think I've taken proper care of your wife and child in your absence."
"I'm sure you have, old man. And now take my arm and come in here for a chat. I've great news for you."
They went into the store together, and Ellison seated himself on a bale of rope. Murkard picked idly at the edge of the counter with nervous, trembling hands. A figure passed the door, but neither of them saw it.
"Murkard, this has been a wonderful month for me."
"How—how? Why don't you speak out? Why do you keep me in suspense?"
"Nerves," said Ellison to himself. "I must stop this as soon as possible." Then aloud he continued, taking out the gem and placing it on the counter: "Three hundred pounds' worth of shell in the luggers, and that beauty."
Murkard picked up and turned the great black pearl over and over without answering. Finally he said:
"I suppose you will be a rich man now?"