At supper he was silent and ill-at-ease, but the missionary was jovial and animated. Dr Macphail thought his eyes rested on him now and then with triumphant good-humour. It struck him suddenly that Davidson knew of his visit to the governor and of its ill success. But how on earth could he have heard of it? There was something sinister about the power of that man. After supper he saw Horn on the verandah and, as though to have a casual word with him, went out.
"She wants to know if you've seen the governor," the trader whispered.
"Yes. He wouldn't do anything. I'm awfully sorry, I can't do anything more."
"I knew he wouldn't. They daren't go against the missionaries."
"What are you talking about?" said Davidson affably, coming out to join them.
"I was just saying there was no chance of your getting over to Apia for at least another week," said the trader glibly.
He left them, and the two men returned into the parlour. Mr Davidson devoted one hour after each meal to recreation. Presently a timid knock was heard at the door.
"Come in," said Mrs Davidson, in her sharp voice.
The door was not opened. She got up and opened it. They saw Miss Thompson standing at the threshold. But the change in her appearance was extraordinary. This was no longer the flaunting hussy who had jeered at them in the road, but a broken, frightened woman. Her hair, as a rule so elaborately arranged, was tumbling untidily over her neck. She wore bedroom slippers and a skirt and blouse. They were unfresh and bedraggled. She stood at the door with the tears streaming down her face and did not dare to enter.
"What do you want?" said Mrs Davidson harshly.