first came here.
. . . Look at Abdulla now. He lives here because--he says--here he is
away from white men. But he has hundreds of thousands. Has a house in
Penang. Ships. What did he not have when he stole my trade from me!
He knocked everything here into a cocked hat, drove father to
gold-hunting--then to Europe, where he disappeared. Fancy a man like
Captain Lingard disappearing as though he had been a common coolie.
Friends of mine wrote to London asking about him. Nobody ever heard of
him there! Fancy! Never heard of Captain Lingard!"

The learned gatherer of orchids lifted his head.

"He was a sen--sentimen--tal old buc--buccaneer," he stammered out, "I
like him. I'm sent--tal myself."

He winked slowly at Almayer, who laughed.

"Yes! I told you about that gravestone. Yes! Another hundred and twenty
dollars thrown away. Wish I had them now. He would do it. And the
inscription. Ha! ha! ha! 'Peter Willems, Delivered by the Mercy of God
from his Enemy.' What enemy--unless Captain Lingard himself? And then it
has no sense. He was a great man--father was--but strange in many ways.
. . . You haven't seen the grave? On the top of that hill, there, on the
other side of the river. I must show you. We will go there."

"Not I!" said the other. "No interest--in the sun--too tiring. . . .
Unless you carry me there."

As a matter of fact he was carried there a few months afterwards, and
his was the second white man's grave in Sambir; but at present he was
alive if rather drunk. He asked abruptly--

"And the woman?"

"Oh! Lingard, of course, kept her and her ugly brat in Macassar. Sinful
waste of money--that! Devil only knows what became of them since father
went home. I had my daughter to look after. I shall give you a word to
Mrs. Vinck in Singapore when you go back. You shall see my Nina there.
Lucky man. She is beautiful, and I hear so accomplished, so . . ."

"I have heard already twenty . . . a hundred times about your daughter.
What ab--about--that--that other one, Ai--ssa?"

"She! Oh! we kept her here. She was mad for a long time in a quiet sort
of way. Father thought a lot of her. He gave her a house to live in,
in my campong. She wandered about, speaking to nobody unless she caught
sight of Abdulla, when she would have a fit of fury, and shriek and
curse like anything. Very often she would disappear--and then we all had
to turn out and hunt for her, because father would worry till she was
brought back. Fou