“No, I do not understand, Niâbon,” I said more gently. “How can his name be vanished when but a few hours ago he was alive and well. Tell me, in plain English, what you mean by saying that no one can question you and Tematau and myself about the manner of his death?”
“Because, Simi, thou and I and others shall be far away from here when the man's countrymen come in the fighting-ship.”
“I wish to Heaven we were far away at this moment,” I said impatiently. “I am sick to death of the place, and don't want to find myself a prisoner on board a German man-of-war on suspicion of being concerned in Krause's death.”
She again repeated her assurance that I should never be questioned.
“Where is Mrs. Krause now?” I asked.
“At Taritai.”
“Niàbon”—and I placed my hand on her head—“you must not keep me in the dark about some things. I want you to answer me truly some questions. And, though I do not know why, I have this moment resolved to leave the island as quickly as possible. Would you come with me?”
“Yes, Mr. Sherry. Of course I am coming with you,” she answered in English. “I told you that you and I and some other people would soon be together upon the sea. And I will answer any question you ask me. I don't want to deceive you. Why should I try to deceive you?”
As she turned her full, soft eyes up to my face, I saw in them such undoubted sincerity that I felt it was not possible for me again to doubt her.
“No, I am sure you will not deceive me, Niàbon. And I want you to tell me straightforwardly the meaning of all this mystery. First of all, what has been done with the German's body? where is it buried?”