It is better for me."
The squall had now passed, and, in the short stillness of the lull in the
storm, Lakamba repeated softly, as if to himself, "Much easier. Much
better."
Dain did not seem greatly discomposed by the Rajah's threatening words.
While Lakamba was speaking he had glanced once rapidly over his shoulder,
just to make sure that there was nobody behind him, and, tranquillised in
that respect, he had extracted a siri-box out of the folds of his waist-
cloth, and was wrapping carefully the little bit of betel-nut and a small
pinch of lime in the green leaf tendered him politely by the watchful
Babalatchi. He accepted this as a peace-offering from the silent
statesman--a kind of mute protest against his master's undiplomatic
violence, and as an omen of a possible understanding to be arrived at
yet. Otherwise Dain was not uneasy. Although recognising the justice of
Lakamba's surmise that he had come back to Sambir only for the sake of
the white man's daughter, yet he was not conscious of any childish lack
of understanding, as suggested by Babalatchi. In fact, Dain knew very
well that Lakamba was too deeply implicated in the gunpowder smuggling to
care for an investigation the Dutch authorities into that matter.
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