Only you’re a fool.
When you’re doing one thing you always want to do another.
That’s not the way to live.”
But all the same he raised himself slowly to his feet and began to put on his clothes.
They sauntered back to the village, drank a bowl of kava with the chief, and then, after a joyful farewell from all the lazy villagers, drove home.
After dinner, according to his habit, Walker, lighting his cigar, prepared to go for a stroll.
Mackintosh was suddenly seized with fear.
“Don’t you think it’s rather unwise to go out at night by yourself just now?”
Walker stared at him with his round blue eyes.
“What the devil do you mean?”
“Remember the knife the other night.
You’ve got those fellows’ backs up.”
“Pooh!
They wouldn’t dare.”
“Someone dared before.”
“That was only a bluff.
They wouldn’t hurt me.
They look upon me as a father.
They know that whatever I do is for their own good.”
Mackintosh watched him with contempt in his heart.
The man’s self-complacency outraged him, and yet something, he knew not what, made him insist.
“Remember what happened this morning.
It wouldn’t hurt you to stay at home just to-night.
I’ll play piquet with you.”
“I’ll play piquet with you when I come back.
The Kanaka isn’t born yet who can make me alter my plans.”
“You’d better let me come with you.”
“You stay where you are.”
Mackintosh shrugged his shoulders.
He had given the man full warning.
If he did not heed it that was his own lookout.
Walker put on his hat and went out.
Mackintosh began to read; but then he thought of something; perhaps it would be as well to have his own whereabouts quite clear.
He crossed over to the kitchen and, inventing some pretext, talked for a few minutes with the cook.
Then he got out the gramophone and put a record on it, but while it ground out its melancholy tune, some comic song of a London music-hall, his ear was strained for a sound away there in the night.
At his elbow the record reeled out its loudness, the words were raucous, but notwithstanding he seemed to be surrounded by an unearthly silence.
He heard the dull roar of the breakers against the reef. He heard the breeze sigh, far up, in the leaves of the coconut trees.
How long would it be?
It was awful.
He heard a hoarse laugh.
“Wonders will never cease.
It’s not often you play yourself a tune, Mac.”
Walker stood at the window, red-faced, bluff and jovial.
“Well, you see I’m alive and kicking.
What were you playing for?”
Walker came in.
“Nerves a bit dicky, eh?
Playing a tune to keep your pecker up?”
“I was playing your requiem.”
“What the devil’s that?”