featureless
against the increasing glitter of the stars. Heyst was pleased at
the absence of light in his bungalow. It looked as uninhabited as
the others. He continued to lead the way, inclining to the right. His
equable voice was heard:

"This one would be the best. It was our counting-house. There is some
furniture in it yet. I am pretty certain that you'll find a couple of
camp bedsteads in one of the rooms."

The high-pitched roof of the bungalow towered up very close, eclipsing
the sky.

"Here we are. Three steps. As you see, there's a wide veranda. Sorry to
keep you waiting for a moment; the door is locked, I think."

He was heard trying it. Then he leaned against the rail, saying:

"Wang will get the keys."

The others waited, two vague shapes nearly mingled together in the
darkness of the veranda, from which issued a sudden chattering of Mr.
Jones's teeth, directly suppressed, and a slight shuffle of Ricardo's
feet. Their guide and host, his back against the rail, seemed to have
forgotten their existence. Suddenly he moved, and murmured:

"Ah, here's the trolley."

Then he raised his voice in Malay, and was answered, "Ya tuan," from an
indistinct group that could be made out in the direction of the track.

"I have sent Wang for the key and a light," he said, in a voice
that came out without any particular direction--a peculiarity which
disconcerted Ricardo.

Wang did not tarry long on his mission. Very soon from the distant
recesses of obscurity appeared the swinging lantern he carried. It cast
a fugitive ray on the arrested trolley with the uncouth figure of the
wild Pedro drooping over the load; then it moved towards the bungalow
and ascended the stairs. After working at the stiff lock, Wang applied
his shoulder to the door. It came open with explosive suddenness, as if
in a passion at being thus disturbed after two years' repose. From the
dark slope of a tall stand-up writing-desk a forgotten, solitary sheet
of paper flew up and settled gracefully on the floor.

Wang and Pedro came and went through the offended door, bringing the
things off the trolley, one flitting swiftly in and out, the other
staggering heavily. Later, directed by a few quiet words from Number
One, Wang made several journeys with the lantern to the store-rooms,
bringing in blankets, provisions in tins, coffee, sugar, and a packet of
candles. He lighted one, and stuck it on the ledge of the stand-up desk.
Meantime Pedro, bei