inclined to immobility. He lingered awhile, as if irresolute. Schomberg,
at the door, looking out, affected perfect indifference. He could not
keep it up, though. Suddenly he turned inward and asked with brusque
rage:

"You wanted to see him?"

"Why, yes," said Davidson. "We agreed to meet--"

"Don't you bother. He doesn't care about that now."

"Doesn't he?"

"Well, you can judge for yourself. He isn't here, is he? You take my
word for it. Don't you bother about him. I am advising you as a friend."

"Thank you," said, Davidson, inwardly startled at the savage tone. "I
think I will sit down for a moment and have a drink, after all."

This was not what Schomberg had expected to hear. He called brutally:

"Boy!"

The Chinaman approached, and after referring him to the white man by a
nod the hotel-keeper departed, muttering to himself. Davidson heard him
gnash his teeth as he went.

Davidson sat alone with the billiard-tables as if there had been not a
soul staying in the hotel. His placidity was so genuine that he was not
unduly, fretting himself over the absence of Heyst, or the mysterious