es. They had
been closed. He ran stumbling and flung against them and found they had
been locked as well. No one came, no one called. And the garden drowsed
in the warmth of a forenoon brilliant, heavy-scented, tropical!...

The last Tunstal remembered was raving back and forth within those four
walls with a useless gun in his fist and the pitiless sun beating upon
his head.

* * * * *

There is no tradition of the mercantile marine that provides for
following the fortunes of travelers who step ashore to enjoy the scenery
or other benefits. But a traveler who carries an important letter of
credit and a through passage ticket may present something of an
exception. In the early evening of the _Lombock's_ stay at the port by
the river mouth her first mate found time and occasion for a cryptic
word with her captain. And the captain was exceeding wroth, for the
_Lombock_ would finish her landing on the ebb and he had no mind to miss
a tide.

"Who d'y'say? Him? Not back yet, d'y'say? Well, what's that to me? Have
I got to drynurse every glorified pup of a globe-trotter that takes a
sanctified notion to soak hisself?"

Nivin explained at some length.

"To hell with all passengers!" wished the captain then, a man of
strictly professional temper. "Here's this little rat Van Goor been
devilin' me all day about the grub we fed his blessed coolies in the
'tween-decks. He says he'll lose a week's labor off the lot before
they're fit for work.... Well, go on, go on. If your blighter's such a
fool as you say, you better go get him. But I'll not wait past
midnight--mind that. And I wish you joy of the job."

So Nivin came ashore at dusk to wander through the same streets and
alleys to which he had directed another's erring steps at dawn.

* * * * *

He sought a handsome young stranger in a suit of cream-colored silk and
a dove-gray helmet with peacock puggree. Drunk, probably. Even very
drunk. Possibly violent and uproarious--this was Nivin's fear. More
likely to be fever-proofed and solidified--this was Nivin's hope. Had
any seen such a wonder? None had, though a boatman remembered landing
the white tuan from the _Lombock_, and there was plain testimony that he
had purchased a bottle of arrack for three dollars and a half Singapore
silver. Beyond that point the trail evaporated. Apparently the person of
Alfred Poynter Tunstal had dissolved in local liquor.

It