tackled his mission in a direct way, and had found it easy enough. At
the very first call he made in Samarang he rolled the shawl as tightly
as he could into the smallest possible brown-paper parcel, which he
carried ashore with him. His business in the town being transacted,
he got into a gharry with the parcel and drove to the hotel. With his
precious experience, he timed his arrival accurately for the hour of
Schomberg's siesta. Finding the place empty as on the former occasion,
he marched into the billiard-room, took a seat at the back, near the
sort of dais which Mrs. Schomberg would in due course come to occupy,
and broke the slumbering silence of the house by thumping a bell
vigorously. Of course a Chinaman appeared promptly. Davidson ordered a
drink and sat tight.

"I would have ordered twenty drinks one after another, if necessary,"
he said--Davidson's a very abstemious man--"rather than take that parcel
out of the house again. Couldn't leave it in a corner without letting
the woman know it was there. It might have turned out worse for her than
not bringing the thing back at all."

And so he waited, ringing the bell again and again, and swallowing two
or three iced drinks which he did not want. Presently, as he hoped it
would happen, Mrs. Schomberg came in, silk dress, long neck, ringlets,
scared eyes, and silly grin--all complete. Probably that lazy beast had
sent her out to see who was the thirsty customer waking up the echoes of
the house at this quiet hour. Bow, nod--and she clambered up to her post
behind the raised counter, looking so helpless, so inane, as she sat
there, that if it hadn't been for the parcel, Davidson declared, he
would have thought he had merely dreamed all that had passed between
them. He ordered another drink, to get the Chinaman out of the room, and
then seized the parcel, which was reposing on a chair near him, and