Babalatchi had taken the broken anklet off the man's leg, and now held it
in his hand as he moved by the side of the bearers, while Mahmat lingered
behind timidly, in the hopes of the promised reward.

"Lay him there," said Babalatchi to Almayer's men, pointing to a pile of
drying planks in front of the verandah. "Lay him there. He was a Kaffir
and the son of a dog, and he was the white man's friend. He drank the
white man's strong water," he added, with affected horror. "That I have
seen myself."

The men stretched out the broken limbs on two planks they had laid level,
while Mrs. Almayer covered the body with a piece of white cotton cloth,
and after whispering for some time with Babalatchi departed to her
domestic duties. Almayer's men, after laying down their burden,
dispersed themselves in quest of shady spots wherein to idle the day
away. Babalatchi was left alone by the corpse that laid rigid under the
white cloth in the bright sunshine.

Nina came down the steps and joined Babalatchi, who put his hand to his
forehead, and squatted down with great deference.

"You have a bangle there," said Nina, looking down on Babalatchi's
upturned face and into his solitary eye.

"I have, Mem Putih," returned the polite statesman. Then turning towards
Mahmat he beckoned him closer, calling out, "Come here!"

Mahmat approached with some hesitation. He avoided looking at Nina, but
fixed his eyes on Babalatchi.