Shortly after the murmur of many voices reached him across the water. He
could see the torches being snatched out of the burning pile, and
rendering visible for a moment the gate in the stockade round which they
crowded. Then they went in apparently. The torches disappeared, and the
scattered fire sent out only a dim and fitful glare.

Almayer stepped homewards with long strides and mind uneasy. Surely Dain
was not thinking of playing him false. It was absurd. Dain and Lakamba
were both too much interested in the success of his scheme. Trusting to
Malays was poor work; but then even Malays have some sense and understand
their own interest. All would be well--must be well. At this point in
his meditation he found himself at the foot of the steps leading to the
verandah of his home. From the low point of land where he stood he could
see both branches of the river. The main branch of the Pantai was lost
in complete darkness, for the fire at the Rajah's had gone out
altogether; but up the Sambir reach his eye could follow the long line of
Malay houses crowding the bank, with here and there a dim light twinkling
through bamboo walls, or a smoky torch burning on the platforms built out
over the river. Further away, where the island ended in a low cliff,
rose a dark mass of buildings towering above the Malay structures.
Founded solidly on a firm ground with plenty of space, starred by many
lights burning strong and white, with a suggestion of paraffin and lamp-
glasses, stood the house and the godowns of Abdulla bin Selim, the great
trader of Sambir. To Almayer the sight was very distasteful, and he
shook his fist towards the buildings that in their evident prosperity
looked to him cold and insolent, and contemptuous of his own fallen
fortunes.

He mounted the steps of his house slowly.