"I am told, mynheer, that the governor withdrew his offer for my person at your request," she said coldly.
The statement was a question, Peter Gross felt, though put in the form of a declaration. He scrutinized her face sharply, striving to divine her object.
"That is true, juffrouw," he acknowledged.
"Why did you do this, mynheer?"
Peter Gross did not answer at once. The direct question astonished him.
"Why do you ask, juffrouw?" he parried.
Her finely chiseled head tilted back. Very royal she looked, very queenly, a Diana of the tropic jungle.
"Because Koyala Bintang Burung asks no favors from you, Mynheer Gross. Nor from any white man."
It was a declaration of war. Peter Gross realized it, and his face saddened. He had expected opposition but not open defiance. He wondered what lay back of it. The Dyak blood in her, always treacherous, never acting without a purpose, was not frank without reason, he assured himself.
"I had no intention of doing you a favor, juffrouw," he announced quietly.