And even Heyst could hardly keep incredulity out of his politely
modulated voice as he asked if it was a fact that Morrison had not that
amount in hand.
Morrison hadn't. He had only a little English gold, a few sovereigns, on
board. He had left all his spare cash with the Tesmans, in Samarang, to
meet certain bills which would fall due while he was away on his cruise.
Anyhow, that money would not have been any more good to him than if it
had been in the innermost depths of the infernal regions. He said all
this brusquely. He looked with sudden disfavour at that noble forehead,
at those great martial moustaches, at the tired eyes of the man sitting
opposite him. Who the devil was he? What was he, Morrison, doing there,
talking like this? Morrison knew no more of Heyst than the rest of us
trading in the Archipelago did. Had the Swede suddenly risen and hit
him on the nose, he could not have been taken more aback than when this
stranger, this nondescript wanderer, said with a little bow across the
table:
"Oh! If that's the case I would be very happy if you'd allow me to be of
use!"
Morrison didn't understand. This was one of those things that don't
happen--unheard of things. He had no real inkling of what it meant, till
Heyst said definitely:
"I can lend you the amount."
"You have the money?" whispered Morrison.
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