“This is the result.” He waved toward the window. “I thought I’d show you how I treat these swine. I told Buro Sitt his impertinence meant he meant to revolt. He’d have to give me a hostage for good behavior. His daughter.” Vetter laughed exuberantly. “A hostage, you understand. And she will taste every particle of food I eat, so Buro Sitt will not dare poison me.”
The doctor grunted again.
“He won’t?”
“Not he,” Vetter nodded wisely, and grinned again. “I shall make love to her, of course. One does. I shall be to her as a god—a kindly god. But to her father I⸺”
The noise in the jungle drew nearer and louder. Then one of the sentries challenged sharply. There was an answer, and then the shrill and nasal reply of the sentry to the corporal of the guard.
Vetter waited, grinning. Presently two soldiers escorted Buro Sitt and the girl into the room. The young chap with the hawk-like eyes was nowhere about. Buro Sitt looked absolutely impassive, though his nostrils were distended a little. The girl—well, she was white and queerly silent.
Vetter looked Buro Sitt up and down.
“Since when,” he asked in Malay, without any polite prefix, “are you permitted to wear arms into my presence?”
Buro Sitt, without a word, handed over his kris to one of the soldiers. His antiquated pistol followed. Vetter snapped at his soldiers and they went out. Buro Sitt was like a stone image. Vetter looked at us out of the corner of his eye. Then he laughed.
“Your daughter,” he said insolently to Buro Sitt, “will taste all my food hereafter, lest there be poison in it.”