She only gave him one of her deep-gleaming smiles.
"It isn't me so it must be Wang. You ought to make him give it back to
you."
Heyst said nothing to that naive and practical suggestion, for the
object that he missed from the drawer was his revolver.
It was a heavy weapon which he had owned for many years and had never
used in his life. Ever since the London furniture had arrived in
Samburan, it had been reposing in the drawer of the table. The real
dangers of life, for him, were not those which could be repelled
by swords or bullets. On the other hand neither his manner nor his
appearance looked sufficiently inoffensive to expose him to light-minded
aggression.
He could not have explained what had induced him to go to the drawer
in the middle of the night. He had started up suddenly--which was very
unusual with him. He had found himself sitting up and extremely wide
awake all at once, with the girl reposing by his side, lying with her
face away from him, a vague, characteristically feminine form in the dim
light. She was perfectly still.
At that season of the year there were no mosquitoes in Samburan, and the
sides of the mosquito net were looped up. Heyst swung his feet to the
floor, and found himself standing there, almost before he had become
aware of his intention to get up.
Why he did this he did not know.
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