Both then bent forward over the figure which had given the name of Ardjan; but in that thick darkness it was impossible to distinguish anything.
One of them pulled a dark lantern out of his pocket, struck a match and, with some trouble, managed to procure a light. As soon as he had recognised the features he cried out:
“By ——! it is Ardjan! What in the world are you doing here?”
“I have fallen overboard,” was the reply.
“Indeed you have? with that ‘djoekoeng?’ ” sneered Liem King.
“I found her in the water as I was swimming about,” was the reply.
“And that woman?” continued Liem King; “how about her? Did you pick her up also floating about? Who is she?”
“She is Moenah, my sister,” faintly said Ardjan.
“Ah! your sister,” exclaimed Than Khan with a low, dirty laugh. “I daresay she also managed to tumble overboard?”
With these words he threw the light of the lantern full on the face of the so-called sister. The uncertain gleam revealed the well-shaped form of a beautiful Javanese maiden of sixteen who, in her confusion, strove to conceal her face under a veil, which, like all the rest of her clothing, was dripping wet.