Peter Gross spread out his palms in mock dismay. "Go into bankruptcy," he replied. "It's the only thing left for me to do."
"My bill will stagger you," she warned.
"You know the Persian's answer, 'All that I have to the half of my kingdom,'" he jested.
"I might ask more," Koyala ventured daringly.
Peter Gross's face sobered. Koyala saw that, for some reason, her reply did not please him. A strange light glowed momentarily in her eyes. Instantly controlling herself, she said in carefully modulated tones:
"You sent for me, mynheer?"
"I did," Peter Gross admitted. "I must ask another favor of you, Koyala." The mirth was gone from his voice also.
"What is it?" she asked quietly.
"You know whom we have lost," Peter Gross said, plunging directly into the subject. "Ah Sing carried him away. His uncle, the boy's only living relative, is an old sea captain under whom I served for some time and a very dear friend. I promised him I would care for the lad. I must bring the boy back. You alone can help me."
The burning intensity of Koyala's eyes moved even Peter Gross, unskilled as he was in the art of reading a woman's heart through her eyes. He felt vaguely uncomfortable, vaguely felt a peril he could not see or understand.