me leader of
the Illanuns, the one who had ordered the capture of those gentlemen in
order perhaps to force his hand. The two barbarous, half-naked figures
covered with ornaments and charms, squatting at his feet with their
heads enfolded in crimson and gold handkerchiefs and with straight
swords lying across their knees, were the Pangerans who carried out the
order, and had brought the captives into the lagoon. But the two men in
chain armour on watch outside the door of the small house were Belarab's
two particular body-guards, who got themselves up in that way only on
very great occasions. They were the outward and visible sign that the
prisoners were in Belarab's keeping, and this was good, so far. The pity
was that the Great Chief himself was not there. Then Lingard assumed a
formal pose and Mrs. Travers stared into the great courtyard and with
rows and rows of faces ranged on the ground at her feet felt a little
giddy for a moment.

Every movement had died in the crowd. Even the eyes were still under the
variegated mass of coloured headkerchiefs: while beyond the open gate a
noble palm tree looked intensely black against the glitter of the lagoon
and the pale incandescence of the sky. Mrs. Travers gazing that way
wondered at the absence of Hassim and Immada. But the girl might have
been somewhere within one of the houses with the ladies of Belarab's
stockade. Then suddenly Mrs. Travers became aware that another bench
had been brought out and was already occupied by five men dressed in
gorgeous silks, and embroidered velvets, round-faced and grave. Their
hands reposed on their knees; but one amongst them clad in a white robe
and with a large nearly black turban on his head leaned forward a little
with his chin in his hand. His cheeks were sunken and his eyes remained
fixed on the ground as if to avoid looking at the infidel woman.

She became aware suddenly of a soft murmur, and glancing at Lingard
she saw him in an attitude of impassive attention. The momentous
negotiations had begun, and it went on like this in low undertones with
long pauses and in the immobility of all the attendants squatting on the
ground, with the distant figure of Daman far off in the shade towering
over all the assembly. But in him, too, Mrs. Travers could not detect
the slightest movement while the slightly modulated murmurs went on
enveloping her in a feeling of peace.

The fact that she couldn't understand anything of what was said so