Terence's eyes grew round. 'You don't agree with me! Why, you old humbug, when did I say that the thing had any supernatural power?'
'You talked of the English lack of imagination,' George replied stiffly.
Terence laughed. 'The most wonderful thing about that blessed club is that it has twice brought you and me to the brink of a dispute. I really believe—— Hullo! Here he is.'
Unheard and unannounced, as usual, Te Karearea had entered. A grim smile, quickly suppressed, parted his thin lips for an instant, and he bent a frowning gaze upon George, who, angered out of himself at the loss of his mere and the memories which the sight of the chief recalled, had sprung to his feet and was glaring defiantly at the intruder.
'Salutations, friends!' said Te Karearea coldly. 'You did not meet me at the gate, so I have come to——' He interrupted himself, his furtive eyes gleaming. 'Where is the mere of TUMATATJENGA, Hortoni? It hangs not at your side.'
George made no answer; for it was important to ascertain whether the chief had come straight from the marae, or had already visited the hut and discovered their absence. Familiar with his friend's lightest change of expression, Terence knew that the storm was ready to break, and dropped his hand lightly upon the revolver in his coat pocket, through which he covered the chief. If treachery were intended, it was as well to be prepared.
'Speak, Hortoni!' Te Karearea's tone was imperative to the point of insolence. His scarred face looked terrible under his malignant scowl.
There was a steely glint in George's eyes, and his nostrils quivered; but his voice was fairly calm as he answered: 'A man may do as he likes with his own. If I have smashed the mere among the rocks, or thrown it into the river, what is it to you? You chatter like a parrot, and with as little sense. Leave us. We wish to sleep.'
But Te Karearea had sense enough, and whatever black design he had in his mind when he entered the hut, he put it away for the time, until he should discover the truth about the mere. So, to the surprise of his hearers, instead of flying into a rage, he grinned genially at them.
'You are right, Hortoni,' he said. 'It is only children who talk when they are tired, and quarrel till they fall asleep. I, too, am weary and would rest. Perhaps you will be in a better mind to-morrow, and will show me the mere of TUMATAUENGA. I will go, since you have nothing to say to me. Unless, indeed, you wish to renew your parole,' he finished with a sneer.