"Heyst called you in?" I asked, interested.

Yes, Heyst had called him in as he was going by on his usual date.
Davidson was examining the shore through his glasses with his unwearied
and punctual humanity as he steamed past Samburan.

I saw a man in white. It could only have been Heyst. He had fastened
some sort of enormous flag to a bamboo pole, and was waving it at the
end of the old wharf.

Davidson didn't like to take his steamer alongside--for fear of being
indiscreet, I suppose; but he steered close inshore, stopped his
engines, and lowered a boat. He went himself in that boat, which was
manned, of course, by his Malay seamen.

Heyst, when he saw the boat pulling towards him, dropped his
signalling-pole; and when Davidson arrived, he was kneeling down engaged
busily in unfastening the flag from it.

"Was there anything wrong?" I inquired, Davidson having paused in his
narrative and my curiosity being naturally aroused. You must remember
that Heyst as the Archipelago knew him was not--what shall I say--was
not a signalling sort of man.

"The very words that came out of my mouth," said Davidson, "before I
laid the boat against the piles. I could not help it!"

Heyst got up from his knees and began carefully folding up the flag
thing, which struck Davidson as having the dimensions of a blanket.