Krausz looked at him calmly.
"Do not get excited, Mr. Hammer! I am not sticking up for anyone; but Adolf cannot go back to Mombasa, just yet. Later, perhaps——"
Jenson pulled away from him suddenly, looking up with his viperish snarl.
"If you let them take me, Herr Doctor, I'll tell——"
With brutal force the Saxon's hand struck down, caught Jenson square in the mouth, and knocked him under the table, where he lay whimpering. Hammer was startled at the change in the face of the man; its glossed-over brutality was standing out in full relief, its heavy eyes were filled with rage, its finely-chiselled mouth was convulsed with untrammelled passion.
"Pig! Dog! Be quiet!" bellowed the doctor threateningly, then turned to the American. "As for you, Mr. Hammer, of what did you talk with the fräulein?"
"Eh? The professor? Why, we—say, I can't see where that's any of your business, doctor. You'd better attend to the matter in hand and quit using your fists on that poor devil. Now, speak up, for I don't intend to hang around these diggings all afternoon. Are you going to hand Jenson over to me, or not?"
"My friend, I do not like your tone. Remember that I am your employer, yess. When I ask you a question I expect it to answered be."
The two men glared at each other across the table, beneath which lay the prostrate figure of Jenson. From behind them came an occasional guttural exclamation from one of the seamen-overseers, and the ring of pick or shovel on stone; if the scene beneath the grass-thatch was observed, it passed unnoticed.
And beyond was the jungle and forest, deep, silent, tropical; behind, the tents and brush huts, the jungle again, and then the blue sea.