all dead--but I would sleep."

Wasub raised his dumb old eyes to the white man's face.

"Tuan, it is necessary that you should hear Jaffir," he said, patiently.

"Is he going to die?" asked Lingard in a low, cautious tone as though he
were afraid of the sound of his own voice.

"Who can tell?" Wasub's voice sounded more patient than ever. "There is
no wound on his body but, O Tuan, he does not wish to live."

"Abandoned by his God," muttered Lingard to himself.

Wasub waited a little before he went on, "And, Tuan, he has a message
for you."

"Of course. Well, I don't want to hear it."

"It is from those who will never speak to you again," Wasub persevered,
sadly. "It is a great trust. A Rajah's own words. It is difficult for
Jaffir to die. He keeps on muttering about a ring that was for you, and
that he let pass out of his care. It was a great talisman!"

"Yes. But it did not work this time. And if I go and tell Jaffir why he
will be able to tell his Rajah, O Wasub, since you say that he is going
to die. . . . I wonder where they will meet," he muttered to himself.

Once more Wasub raised his eyes to Lingard's face. "Paradise is the lot
of all True Believers," he whispered, firm in his simple faith.

The man who had been undone by a glimpse of Paradise exchanged a
profound look with the old Malay. Then he got up. On his passage to the
main hatchway the commander of the brig met no one on the decks, as if
all mankind had given him up except the old man who preceded him and
that other man dying in the deepening twilight, who was awaiting his
coming. Below, in the light of the hatchway, he saw a young Calash with
a broad yellow face and his wiry hair sticking up in stiff wisps through
the folds of his head-kerchief, holding an earthenware water-jar to the
lips of Jaffir extended on his back on a pile of mats.

A languid roll of the already glazed eyeballs, a mere stir of black
and white in the gathering dusk showed that the faithful messenger of
princes was aware of the presence of the man who had been so long known
to him and his people as the King of the Sea. Lingard knelt down close
to Jaffir's head, which rolled a little from side to side and then
became still, staring at a beam of the upper deck. Lingard bent his ear
to the dark lips. "Deliver your message" he said in a gentle tone.

"The Rajah wished to hold your hand once more," whispered Jaffir so
faintly that Lingard had to guess the words rather than