'He is sick,' said suddenly a voice from the curtained doorway, which
led to the inner apartment. It was the elder son Abdulrahman who spoke.
He held a sword in his hand, and his face wore an ugly look as his words
came harshly and gratingly with the foreign accent of the Korinchi
people. He went on, still standing, near the doorway, 'He is sick, O
Penghulu, and the noise of your words disturbs him. He would slumber and
be still. Descend out of the house, he cannot see thee, Penghulu. Listen
to these my words!'

Abdulrahman's manner, and the words he spoke, were at once so rough and
defiant that the Penghulu saw that he must choose between a scuffle,
which would mean bloodshed, and a hasty retreat. He was a mild old man,
and he drew a monthly salary from the Perak Government. Moreover, he
knew that the white men, who guided the destinies of Perak, were averse
to bloodshed and homicide, even if the person slain was a wizard, or the
son of a wizard. Therefore he decided upon retreat.

As they clambered down the steps of the door-ladder, Mat Tahir, one of
the Penghulu's men, plucked him by the sleeve, and pointed to a spot
beneath the house. Just below the place, in the inner apartment, where
Haji Ali might be supposed to lie stretched upon the mat of sickness,
the ground was stained a dim red for a space of several inches in
circumference. Malay floors are made of laths of wood or of bamboo laid
parallel to one another, with spaces between each one of them. This is
convenient, as the whole of the ground beneath the house can thus be
used as a slop-pail, waste-basket, and rubbish heap. The red stain
lying where it did had the look of blood, blood moreover from some one
within the house, whose wound had very recently been washed and dressed.
It might also have been the red juice of the betel-nut, but its stains
are but rarely seen in such large patches. Whatever it may have been the
Penghulu and his people had no opportunity of examining it more closely,
for Abdulrahman and Abas followed them out of the compound, and barred
the door against them.

Then the Penghulu set off to tell his tale to the District Officer, the
white man under whose charge the Slim Valley had been placed. He went
with many misgivings, for Europeans are sceptical concerning such tales,
and when he returned, more or less dissatisfied, some five days later,
he found that Haji Ali and his sons had disappeared. They had fled down
river on a dark night