know."

Almayer lifted his head slowly from the table, and looked at him
stupidly.

"Mem Putih!" exclaimed Babalatchi to Nina, "look at him. He does not
hear. You must take care," he added meaningly.

Nina nodded to him with an uncertain smile, and was going to speak, when
a sharp report from the gun mounted in the bow of the steam launch that
was just then coming into view arrested the words on her parted lips. The
smile died out, and was replaced by the old look of anxious attention.
From the hills far away the echo came back like a long-drawn and mournful
sigh, as if the land had sent it in answer to the voice of its masters.




CHAPTER VIII.


The news as to the identity of the body lying now in Almayer's compound
spread rapidly over the settlement. During the forenoon most of the
inhabitants remained in the long street discussing the mysterious return
and the unexpected death of the man who had become known to them as the
trader. His arrival during the north-east monsoon, his long sojourn in
their midst, his sudden departure with his brig, and, above all, the
mysterious appearance of the body, said to be his, amongst the logs, were
subjects to wonder at and to talk over and over again with undiminished
interest. Mahmat moved from house to house and from group to group,