claim, because so few whites pass through--a plain, decent,
wholesome race that keeps its self-respect and harms none till trod
upon."

"Yes."

Nivin leaned across at him. "But the rotters are in. They're at their
slimy work, grubbin' for profit through muck. And after that what's to
be trusted?"

"What do you mean?" demanded De Haan.

"Such people as that rat Van Goor over there--" He jerked a thumb toward
the bulbous-eyed man.

"We watch zem. Zat is what we are here for. Meanwhile zey bring
development. If zey misbehave, we sling zem out quick."

"And the coolies they bring--scum of the earth. Do you watch them?"

"Of course."

"And you never caught them yet at their slave trade planted right in
the heart of your people?"

* * * * *

De Haan stiffened in his chair. "What are you trying to say? Zis is fool
talk of ze river."

"Native women sold into slavery to the cinnabar mines to hell and death.
Soul traffic, the fine flower of civilization. Here in these lovely
islands!"

"I tell you it can't be!"

"The boats, man. The cinnabar boats. Can you answer for their trade up
and down and about--transporting commodities to supply the gangs?"

"We inspect every one of zem here, at ze water front. Zere is nosing nor
anywhere to hide such doings. You, zat speak to the shame of our
people--prove it if you can!"

"What if I could?" cried Nivin.

"What if you could?" De Haan doubled his hands before him, the kind of
big, white, capable hands that deliberately and quietly have molded the
most successful and the least troublesome colonial empire in the world.
"What if you could? By Godd, we would take ze man who did it and break
him in liddle pieces! Can you prove it? Speak now and let me hear your
proof. By Godd, I tell you zis is my gountry--our gountry, our people!
Not dirt, but men and women. Not chattels, not slaves; not--not--"

There broke a sharp click and rattle of steel links. They turned at the
sound. Under the big palm the red-haired ape had started into vehement
life, bouncing at his leash....

Nivin had fallen back into his chair again, silenced, baffled, for he
had no proof to give. De Haan still held the pose of challenge, glancing
over his shoulder. Both of them watched the ungainly creature reeling in
the shadows; both of them observed the gestures by which he seemed to
solicit their attention.

He had taken a leaf of the raw tobacco and adding a pinch for