Carver rose. "I think I'll be going," he declared gruffly.
"Stay, captain, by all means."
Carver shook his head. He was frowning and he cast an anxious glance at the resident.
"No; I don't trust her. I'd be in the way, anyway." He glanced swiftly at the resident to see the effect of his words. Peter Gross was looking down the lane along which Koyala was approaching. A necklace of flowers encircled her throat and bracelets of blossoms hung on her arms—gardenia, tuberose, hill daisies, and the scarlet bloom of the flame-of-the-forest tree. Her hat was of woven nipa palm-leaves, intricately fashioned together. Altogether she was a most alluring picture.
When Peter Gross looked up Carver was gone. Koyala entered with the familiarity of an intimate friend.
"What is this I hear?" Peter Gross asked with mock severity. "You have been saving me from my enemies again."
Koyala's smile was neither assent nor denial.
"This is getting to be a really serious situation for me," he chaffed. "I am finding myself more hopelessly in your debt every day."
Koyala glanced at him swiftly, searchingly. His frankly ingenuous, almost boyish smile evoked a whimsical response from her.
"What are you going to do when I present my claim?" she demanded.