"Well, kapitein, it is true that I have rather neglected that matter. I intended to speak to you to-day. His excellency orders Koyala Bintang Burung's arrest."
"The argus pheasant," Van Slyck observed, "is rarely shot. It must be trapped."
"Nu, kapitein, that is a chance for you to distinguish yourself," Muller replied heartily, confident that Van Slyck could never land Koyala.
Van Slyck flecked the ash from his cigar and looked at the glowing coal thoughtfully.
"It seems to me that you might be of material assistance, mynheer," he observed.
"In what way?"
"I have noticed that the witch-woman is not—er—" He glanced at Muller quizzically, wondering how far he might venture to go—"not altogether indifferent to you."
Muller drew a deep breath. His ruddy face became a grayish purple. His clenched hands gripped each other until the bones crunched and the veins stood in ridges. Drops of perspiration gathered on his forehead, he wiped them away mechanically.
"Kapitein!" he gasped.
Van Slyck looked at him increduously, for he had not dreamed Muller's feelings ran so deeply.