Almayer had stood
up to answer his guest, turning his back to the doorway, unaware of what
was going on on the other side. He spoke in a tone of regretful
irritation.
"You have come to the wrong house, Tuan Maroola, if you want to trade as
you say. I was a trader once, not now, whatever you may have heard about
me in Macassar. And if you want anything, you will not find it here; I
have nothing to give, and want nothing myself. You should go to the
Rajah here; you can see in the daytime his houses across the river,
there, where those fires are burning on the shore. He will help you and
trade with you. Or, better still, go to the Arabs over there," he went
on bitterly, pointing with his hand towards the houses of Sambir.
"Abdulla is the man you want. There is nothing he would not buy, and
there is nothing he would not sell; believe me, I know him well."
He waited for an answer a short time, then added--
"All that I have said is true, and there is nothing more."
Nina, held back by her mother, heard a soft voice reply with a calm
evenness of intonation peculiar to the better class Malays--
"Who would doubt a white Tuan's words? A man seeks his friends where his
heart tells him. Is this not true also? I have come, although so late,
for I have something to say which you may be glad to hear.
Pages:
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79