her.

"You should have seen Schomberg's eyes bulge out when Heyst jumped in
with an ancient brown leather bag!" said Davidson. "He pretended not
to know who it was--at first, anyway. I didn't go ashore with them. We
didn't stay more than a couple of hours altogether. Landed two thousand
coconuts and cleared out. I have agreed to pick him up again on my next
trip in twenty days' time."




CHAPTER FIVE


Davidson happened to be two days late on his return trip; no great
matter, certainly, but he made a point of going ashore at once, during
the hottest hour of the afternoon, to look for Heyst. Schomberg's hotel
stood back in an extensive enclosure containing a garden, some large
trees, and, under their spreading boughs, a detached "hall available
for concerts and other performances," as Schomberg worded it in his
advertisements. Torn, and fluttering bills, intimating in heavy red
capitals CONCERTS EVERY NIGHT, were stuck on the brick pillars on each
side of the gateway.

The walk had been long and confoundedly sunny. Davidson stood wiping his
wet neck and face on what Schomberg called "the piazza." Several doors
opened on to it, but all the screens were down. Not a soul was in sight,
not even a China boy--nothing but a lot of painted iron chairs and
tables. Solitude, shade, and gloomy silence--and a faint, treacherous