The moon had not risen and thick mist drifted past the schooner before the hot land-breeze. Marston was talking to Wyndham in the cabin, but stopped when something bumped against the vessel's side.

"What's that?" he asked sharply.

"A canoe, I think," said Wyndham, and both listened.

Marston wanted to run up on deck, but did not. Since his adventure on the flat had rather shaken his nerve, he meant to use some control. For a few moments they heard nothing and then the sliding hatch rattled, as if somebody pulled it back. Marston thought it significant that none of the crew had challenged the stranger. The hatch opened and the old mulatto came down. He did not squat on the deck, as he had done before, but sat, like a white man, on the side locker.

"Give me a drink; you know my taste," he said, and Marston noticed that he spoke good English.

Wyndham gave him some old brandy and he drank with leisurely enjoyment. Although he wore ragged and dirty cotton and his legs were bare, it was obvious that Rupert Wyndham had now done with pretense."I'm your guest," he said to Wyndham. "Perhaps it's not good manners, but I'd sooner Mr. Marston left us alone."

"Bob's my partner; I think we'll let him stay," Wyndham replied. "All that interests me interests him."

Rupert shrugged. "It looks as if you had given him your confidence."

"He knows who you are."

"Oh, well!" said Rupert. "You sent for me. I don't know if I approve the form of the invitation you gave my servant."

"Something like lÈ MajestÉ?" Wyndham suggested.

"Something like that," said Rupert with a touch of dryness. "After all, I'm king de facto in the bush."

"Then I think you ought to be content," Wyndham rejoined. "The republic is forced to challenge a king de jure."

Rupert looked at him with half-closed, bloodshot eyes, and Marston thought his face was now like a negro's. After all, his civilized talk and manners were a mask; the fellow was a negro underneath.

"We'll talk about this again," he said in a careless voice. "You seem to have got scrupulous since you went home. Is it a prudish girl's influence or your partner's?"

"My wife's, for the most part. If you take it for granted that I agree, it will clear the ground."

"Ah,"—said Rupert, frowning, "it looks as if I were foolish when I helped you to marry. Perhaps I forgot—it's long since I studied things from the white man's point of view and women don't count in the bush. They are toys and don't make rules for their lovers."

"Unless human nature's different in the jungle, I expect some do so," Marston remarked.

"Their end is generally sudden," said Rupert, with grim humor. Then he turned to Wyndham. "I promised to make you rich. Have I cheated you?"

"No. In a sense, you have kept your promise; but, for all that, I was cheated. My reward vanished when I got it."

Rupert gave him a mocking smile. "Sometimes it happens so, but this is your affair and we will not philosophize. You made a bargain and got the goods, for which you must pay."

"I'm willing to pay. We have brought a load of stuff that has a standard value in the bush. If this won't satisfy you, I've paid a sum to your account at my bank. You can draw it when you like."

"Neither plan will do. I don't want trade rubbish and money is not much use. I need the goods I expected you to bring. If you refuse to supply me, you miss a chance you will not get again."

"I'm not sure that to seize the chance would be a very sound speculation," Wyndham rejoined in a thoughtful voice.

Marston looked hard at him. Harry's manner almost hinted that he was hesitating, but this was unthinkable. Rupert, however, smiled.

"You are a tactful fellow! You want me to state things plainly in order to persuade you? Well, I will be frank, and if I can banish your scruples, so much the better. We are relations and ought not to be enemies——"Rupert paused for a moment or two and then went on: "I sent you rare goods—that sell for high prices in England, but so far I have not sent you the best. There are plants in the swamps for which doctors and chemists would give very much. A few of my people know where they can be found, but I am perhaps the only man who knows how the essences can be distilled. After all, I am not a magician for nothing."

"There is not much modern chemists do not know," Marston interposed.

"Your manufacturing chemists have not got the plants," said Rupert dryly. "The finished product is scarce and valuable; I have the knowledge that can bring the raw material to the distilling retorts. Well, if I use this knowledge, I make my charge, and I have offered my nephew a generous share."

"On some conditions, to which I can't agree," Wyndham rejoined. "Your secret is worth money, but you can use it in one of two ways. You mean to smuggle the stuff into England in small quantities at a monopoly price; I think the other line would pay you better. Ship all you can, develop the trade openly, and although the price will drop and you may have rivals, the sums paid will be large and you will be first on the ground."

Rupert gave him an ironical smile. "You are rather obvious, Harry. You want me to come out of my seclusion and engage in conventional trade. I see drawbacks. In six months, English, American, and German buyers would overrun the country, touting for business. The country's mine and my people will not let white men get control. We are satisfied with the old rules and don't want tram-roads, clearings, and factories. In fact, we don't mean to be exploited for the advantage of Larrinaga's greedy politicians, who'd sell the foreigners trading privileges for bribes."

He stopped and drained his glass, and there was silence for a minute or two. Wyndham understood his uncle and rather sympathized. Independence and liberty to follow one's bent were worth much; one would not change them carelessly for the commercialism that gave a man no choice but to work by rule or starve. Marston, however, was puzzled and presently remarked:

"Clearings would let in some light, which the country needs."

"The light your industrial civilization gives is dim. I and the others would sooner have the dark. You hate the shadowy world because you do not know it; I have lived in it long."

"How have you lived?" Marston asked. "You are a white man and it's plain you have unusual gifts. Yet you're satisfied to skulk about the swamps in dirt and rags, cheating superstitious brutes by conjuring tricks! The thing's unthinkable."

Rupert looked at him with the smile Marston hated. It was malevolent and mocked his philosophy.

"Some of the tricks are clever; they have puzzled you. We will not argue whether all are tricks or not. Anyhow, the clever impostor is a common type. Men who claim magic power direct your company-floating and manipulate your politics; but perhaps it's among primitive people the fakir has most influence. In the bush, I'm high-priest, and something of a prophet."

"You claim to be king," said Wyndham, very dryly. "Prophecy's not difficult when you rather trust to knowledge your disciples haven't got than inspiration. No doubt, you make lucky shots, but royalty's another job. An unacknowledged king must fight for his crown. I want you to think if you hadn't better give it up."

Marston, looking from one to the other, felt the crisis had come. Both were calm, but he thought Harry was highly strung. Their glances were strangely keen; they looked like fencers about to engage. Marston reflected that Rupert did not know Harry's new plans; nor did he know Peters meant to meddle.

"Well," said Rupert, "suppose I agree? What have you to offer?"

"Much, I think. Your return to civilized life and the place where you properly belong. However, we'll be practical. You can resume the partnership in Wyndhams' that is really yours. I'll give you any just share to which Bob will consent, and we'll use your knowledge as far as we can do so lawfully. Our business could be extended and the house ought to prosper in our joint control."

Rupert laughed. "You offer money! In England, it would buy no power I have not got, and the things I like I have. We'll let this go. You are my nephew and perhaps you feel you must be generous; but don't you think you're rash? Have you forgotten the years I've lived in the dark? Habits stick. It would be embarrassing if your relation used the manners of a savage, and I have idiosyncrasies that would give fastidious people a nasty jolt. Then, since you have married, what about your wife? Women are rather strict about conventional niceties."

"My wife agrees," Wyndham replied, incautiously.

"To your plans for my reform? Then, you have some plans. You are, so to speak, missionaries. Well, I imagine Marston is fitter for the job. His confidence can't be shaken, and he doesn't bother about the other fellow's point of view. The successful missionary is a fanatic."

"Give the thing up," said Marston, with some sternness. "You're white, you're English! Come out of the mud!"

Rupert shrugged and turned to Wyndham. "Your partner's staunch, but does not use much tact. Can you see me ordering smart young clerks, talking at an old men's club, and amusing your wife's friends in a conventional drawing-room? If so, your imagination's vivid. I can't see myself." He laughed, a harsh laugh. "In the bush I rule with power that nobody challenges."

Wyndham made a sign of resignation, and Marston owned defeat. After all, he had not expected to persuade the Bat. Then the latter resumed:

"You refuse to supply the goods I need?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you stay and keep your agent at the village?"

"Moreau will not stay long," said Wyndham, and Marston, seeing where Rupert's question led, wondered how Harry would account for their haunting the lagoon.

"We came to trade," Wyndham went on. "Although I now see it won't pay to keep an agent, we must clear off our stock of goods."

"You can't do so without my leave."

"I doubt this," said Wyndham. "Anyhow, we're going to try. It's obvious you have some power, but a firm rule generally provokes opposition and we may do some business with the dissatisfied."

Rupert looked hard at him. "You may find the experiment dangerous. On the whole, my servants are staunch and know the advantage of keeping out foreigners. Well, this is your affair, and since it's plain we can't agree, I won't stay."

He got up and while Marston studied him with a touch of horror he seemed to change, as if he shook off the superficial civilization he had worn. His lips got thick and stuck out; they looked strangely red and sensual. His eyes got dull and the colored veins were plainer, and he rubbed one bare foot with the other's flexible toes. Marston felt he had reverted to the old mulatto.

"You go dash me them bottle?" he said with a grin.

They let him pick up the bottle of brandy, he climbed the ladder, and the hatch slid back. There was no noise on deck and they did not hear a paddle splash, but they knew he had gone. Marston drained his glass and looked at Wyndham, whose face was rather white. He saw Harry had got a jar, and said nothing.

After a few moments Wyndham broke out: "At the last, he looked a half-breed. A trick of pushing out his lips and stretching his nostrils, perhaps; but one feels he is a half-breed. I think he will never really be a white man again. He gave no hint of regret for all that he has lost; it was rather horrible to see he was content."

"He is content, he has done with civilization," said Marston quietly. "We must remember this."

Wyndham nodded. "From now, we have not to deal with Rupert Wyndham, but with the Bat. To some extent, it makes the job easier. All the same, we can't give him up to Larrinaga. It's unlucky we could not have kept him on board."

"That was impossible. Your asking him to come implied that he was safe. Besides, we were forced to try persuasion first. Well, we have tried. What's the next plan?"

"I have none. We must wait."

"Do you think he was satisfied with the grounds we gave for stopping? I mean, do you imagine he believes we merely want to trade?"

"I don't know," said Wyndham moodily. "Perhaps I made a lucky shot when I talked about our trading with the opposition. I imagine it touched him; looks as if there was an opposition. Then I don't suppose he knows Peters is on our track and his. Well, in the meantime we must use patience and trust our luck."

He went up on deck and Marston went to bed. For a time he heard Wyndham's restless tread on the planks above him, and then he went to sleep.