Here."
He uttered the last word with a passion of indignation.
"What`s Iwelei?" asked Mrs. Macphail.
He turned his gloomy eyes on her and his voice trembled with horror.
"The plague spot of Honolulu.
The Red Light district.
It was a blot on our civilisation."
Iwelei was on the edge of the city.
You went down side streets by the harbour, in the darkness, across a rickety bridge, till you came to a deserted road, all ruts and holes, and then suddenly you came out into the light.
There was parking room for motors on each side of the road, and there were saloons, tawdry and bright, each one noisy with its mechanical piano, and there were barbers` shops and tobacconists.
There was a stir in the air and a sense of expectant gaiety.
You turned down a narrow alley, either to the right or to the left, for the road divided Iwelei into two parts, and you found yourself in the district.
There were rows of little bungalows, trim and neatly painted in green, and the pathway between them was broad and straight.
It was laid out like a garden-city.
In its respectable regularity, its order and spruceness, it gave an impression of sardonic horror; for never can the search for love have been so systematised and ordered.
The pathways were lit by a rare lamp, but they would have been dark except for the lights that came from the open windows of the bungalows.
Men wandered about, looking at the women who sat at their windows, reading or sewing, for the most part taking no notice of the passers-by; and like the women they were of all nationalities.
There were Americans, sailors from the ships in port, enlisted men off the gunboats, sombrely drunk, and soldiers from the regiments, white and black, quartered on the island; there were Japanese, walking in twos and threes; Hawaiians, Chinese in long robes, and Filipinos in preposterous hats.
They were silent and as it were oppressed.
Desire is sad.
"It was the most crying scandal of the Pacific," exclaimed Davidson vehemently.
"The missionaries had been agitating against it for years, and at last the local press took it up.
The police refused to stir.
You know their argument.
They say that vice is inevitable and consequently the best thing is to localise and control it.
The truth is, they were paid.
Paid.
They were paid by the saloon-keepers, paid by the bullies, paid by the women themselves.
At last they were forced to move."
"I read about it in the papers that came on board in Honolulu," said Dr. Macphail.
"Iwelei, with its sin and shame, ceased to exist on the very day we arrived.
The whole population was brought before the justices.
I don`t know why I didn`t understand at once what that woman was."
"Now you come to speak of it," said Mrs. Macphail, "I remember seeing her come on board only a few minutes before the boat sailed.
I remember thinking at the time she was cutting it rather fine."
"How dare she come here!" cried Davidson indignantly.
"I`m not going to allow it."
He strode towards the door.
"What are you going to do?" asked Macphail.
"What do you expect me to do?
I`m going to stop it.
I`m not going to have this house turned into - into..."
He sought for a word that should not offend the ladies` ears.
His eyes were flashing and his pale face was paler still in his emotion.
"It sounds as though there were three or four men down there," said the doctor.
"Don`t you think it`s rather rash to go in just now?"
The missionary gave him a contemptuous look and without a word flung out of the room.
"You know Mr. Davidson very little if you think the fear of personal danger can stop him in the performance of his duty," said his wife.
She sat with her hands nervously clasped, a spot of colour on her high cheek bones, listening to what was about to happen below.
They all listened.