Wang did not tarry long on his mission. Very soon from the distant
recesses of obscurity appeared the swinging lantern he carried. It cast
a fugitive ray on the arrested trolley with the uncouth figure of the
wild Pedro drooping over the load; then it moved towards the bungalow
and ascended the stairs. After working at the stiff lock, Wang applied
his shoulder to the door. It came open with explosive suddenness, as if
in a passion at being thus disturbed after two years' repose. From the
dark slope of a tall stand-up writing-desk a forgotten, solitary sheet
of paper flew up and settled gracefully on the floor.
Wang and Pedro came and went through the offended door, bringing the
things off the trolley, one flitting swiftly in and out, the other
staggering heavily. Later, directed by a few quiet words from Number
One, Wang made several journeys with the lantern to the store-rooms,
bringing in blankets, provisions in tins, coffee, sugar, and a packet of
candles. He lighted one, and stuck it on the ledge of the stand-up desk.
Meantime Pedro, being introduced to some kindling-wood and a bundle of
dry sticks, had busied himself outside in lighting a fire, on which he
placed a ready-filled kettle handed to him by Wang impassively, at arm's
length, as if across a chasm. Having received the thanks of his guests,
Heyst wished them goodnight and withdrew, leaving them to their repose.
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