The governor's thin, spiked jaw shot out like a vicious thorn and his teeth clicked.
"Go on," he directed sharply.
"For a year there was neither resident nor controlleur at Bulungan. Then the pirates became so bold that you again took steps to repress them. The stockade at the village of Bulungan was enlarged and the garrison was increased to fifty men. Lieutenant Van Slyck, the commandant, was promoted to captain. A new resident was appointed, Mynheer de Jonge, a very dear friend of your excellency. He was an old man, estimable and honest, but ill-fitted for such a post, a failure in business, and a failure as a resident. Time after time your excellency wrote him concerning piracies, hillmen raids, and head-hunting committed in his residency or the adjoining seas. Each time he replied that your excellency must be mistaken, that the pirates and head-hunters came from other districts."
The governor's eyes popped in amazement. "How do you know this?" he exclaimed, but Peter Gross ignored the question.
"Finally about two years ago Mynheer de Jonge, through an accident, learned that he had been deceived by those he had trusted, had a right to trust. A remark made by a drunken native opened his eyes. One night he called out Captain Van Slyck and the latter's commando and made a flying raid. He all but surprised a band of pirates looting a captured schooner and might have taken them had they not received a warning of his coming. That raid made him a marked man. Within two weeks he was poisoned by being pricked as he slept with a thorn dipped in the juice of the deadly upas tree."
"He was a suicide!" the governor exclaimed, his face ashen. "They brought me a note in his own handwriting."
"In which it was stated that he killed himself because he felt he had lost your excellency's confidence?"
"You know that, too?" Van Schouten whispered huskily.
"Your excellency has suffered remorse without cause," Peter Gross declared quietly. "The note is a forgery."
The governor's hands gripped the edge of the table.