“Who is he?” asked Lester.
Dr. Bruce leant back in his seat, and flicked the ash off his cigar. “He's the manager of the new Land and Trading Company here—a little, pretty-faced fellow, with a yellow moustache, curly hair, and as much principle in him as a damned rat. He has the command of any amount of money, and the women here think no end of him. Was in the army—Rifles, I think—but believe, though I can't be sure of it, was kicked out. Thorough beast, but just the kind of man to get along too well with women who don't know him. Now I'll take another whiskey-and-soda after thus traducing Mr. Danvers, who I'm perfectly willing to boot along Levuka beach from one end to the other if he gives me a chance to do it on my own account. And, by Jove, I'll give him a chance to-night.”
“Where?” asked Pedro Diaz, with a gleam of sombre light in his dark eyes. 189
The Trader's Wife
“At Manton's. He's sure to come in there about eleven to-night. Goodbye for the present. I'll meet you there about eight.”
As the doctor went over the side again the Chilian turned to Lester.
“What did I tell you?” he said gloomily.
CHAPTER II
AT five o'clock in the afternoon, as Dr. Bruce was seated on the wide verandah of Manton's Hotel, smoking his pipe, and wondering in a lazy sort of a way whether Brabant would hear any of the current scandal about his wife and Danvers, the voice of the latter person broke in upon his musings.
“Hallo, Bruce, how are you?” he exclaimed genially as he sprang up the steps, and extended his hand to the doctor; “I see that Brabant is back.”