Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 145: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE THRALDOM OF SINGAN who you are,” said he, “you may depend upon it, you can trust me. If I can do anything to help you, I will.” She ignored the suggestion. Opening a handbag that lay upon the seat beside her, she took out a small gold cigaret case and lit a cigaret. Cartwright remained stand- ing, interested, almost fascinated, and yet, for some reason or other, nervous. “It does one good to talk,” she re- marked. ‘Tell me about yourself. You ought not to be out of work. You are a young man; you are very strong; and you are well educated.” “J daresay,” said he. “That’s why I ought to be ashamed of myself. And I suppose I am.’ “You have some business?” she asked. “A planter. At least, I’ve done more of that than anything else. I lost my last job because I was under a manager who was a scoundrel; and I was indiscreet enough to tell him so, before I knocked him out. So I can’t exactly ask that firm for a letter of recommendation.” She sat thinking a moment, smoking her cigaret, gazing at the passing rick- shaws under the street lamps beyond the cricket ground. Her next remark was surprising. “That would make no difference,” she said, as if speaking to herself. “My hus- band does not want references. He has come to Singapore to find the right man, and I think you may be he.” He stared at her in astonishment. *“You don’t mean.to tell me you’ve got a job for an out-of-work planter?’ he asked. “I’ve had ten years of it, off and on. I ought to know something about it. I’ve worked in Perak, Selangor and Johore. Which state have’ you come from? I’ve never seen you before. I'm dead sure of that.” “I do not live in the Malay States at all,” she answered. “I come from the island of Singan.” “Never heard of it,” said he. “That is possible,” she _ replied. “Singan is between Borneo and Celebes, in the Macassar Straits.” “Dutch?” he asked. 139 “It belongs to the Sultan of Singan,” she answered: “Listen. I think I can ar- range this, provided you understand that it will be no ordinary work. You may be asked to do many things that I do not think you will like doing. Still, that is better than starving. I give you one word of warning. There are no police courts in Singan; there is no mercy there, no justice, no law but jungle law, which means the strongest wins.” Charles Cartwright never thought twice about it. If this little, powdered woman who would have looked more at home in a limousine on the Champs Elysées had re- turned to civilization from some unheard of, savage island, then he was going there too, if he got the chance. In his heart, he knew he was a fool; he was asking for trouble. It was a blind bargain, but never in his life had he seen such an appealing look in the eyes of any woman. “T would give a lot,” said he, “to get out of the Malay States.” “Then do as I say,” she told him. “You know the Café Riche?) My husband will be there for an apértif at eleven to- morrow morning. He is very tall—taller than you—he has a black moustache and wears a large emerald ring. Get into conversation with him, tell him who you are; and he will engage you. Naturally, you will not say that you have talked to me. Au revoir.” With that she was off, across the wet grass in her satin shoes. And from that moment Charles Cartwright went out of the world for fourteen months, and when he turned up at the Nolak Estate on the Yalai River, he looked like a man who had just come out of hell. CHAPTER I ON THE YALAI RIVER HE LITTLE, flat bottomed, tin kettle of a paddle-boat was called La Chauve-Souris, and there were only three passengers on board, because there was no accommodation for more, comicloooks.com