forced him to run south and ultimately to wreck and destroy his vessel in
order to preserve his liberty or perhaps even his life. Yes, he had come
back to Sambir for Nina, although aware that the Dutch would look for him
there, but he had also calculated his chances of safety in Lakamba's
hands. For all his ferocious talk, the merciful ruler would not kill
him, for he had long ago been impressed with the notion that Dain
possessed the secret of the white man's treasure; neither would he give
him up to the Dutch, for fear of some fatal disclosure of complicity in
the treasonable trade. So Dain felt tolerably secure as he sat
meditating quietly his answer to the Rajah's bloodthirsty speech. Yes,
he would point out to him the aspect of his position should he--Dain--fall
into the hands of the Dutch and should he speak the truth. He would have
nothing more to lose then, and he would speak the truth. And if he did
return to Sambir, disturbing thereby Lakamba's peace of mind, what then?
He came to look after his property. Did he not pour a stream of silver
into Mrs. Almayer's greedy lap? He had paid, for the girl, a price
worthy of a great prince, although unworthy of that delightfully
maddening creature for whom his untamed soul longed in an intensity of
desire far more tormenting than the sharpest pain. He wanted his
happiness. He had the right to be in Sambir.

He rose, and, approaching the table, leaned both his elbows on it;
Lakamba responsively edged his seat a little closer, while Babalatchi
scrambled to his feet and thrust his inquisitive head between his
master's and Dain's. They interchanged their ideas rapidly, speaking in
whispers into each other's faces, very close now, Dain suggesting,
Lakamba contradicting, Babalatchi conciliating and anxious in his vivid
apprehension of coming difficulties. He spoke most, whispering
earnestly, turning his head slowly from side to side so as to bring his
solitary eye to bear upon each of his interlocutors in turn. Why should