The Argus Pheasant

"Not from you, mynheer," Van Slyck mocked. "I really do not remember who told me." (As a matter of fact it was Wang Fu, the Chinese merchant.)

Muller reflected that officers from the gun-boat which carried Van Schouten's mandate might have told more than they should have at the stockade. But Koyala had received his warning a full week before, so she must be safely hidden in the jungle by now, he reasoned. Pulling himself together, he replied urbanely:

"Well, kapitein, it is true that I have rather neglected that matter. I intended to speak to you to-day. His excellency orders Koyala Bintang Burung's arrest."

"The argus pheasant," Van Slyck observed, "is rarely shot. It must be trapped."

"Nu, kapitein, that is a chance for you to distinguish yourself," Muller replied heartily, confident that Van Slyck could never land Koyala.

Van Slyck flecked the ash from his cigar and looked at the glowing coal thoughtfully.

"It seems to me that you might be of material assistance, mynheer," he observed.

"In what way?"

"I have noticed that the witch-woman is not – er – " He glanced at Muller quizzically, wondering how far he might venture to go – "not altogether indifferent to you."

Muller drew a deep breath. His ruddy face became a grayish purple. His clenched hands gripped each other until the bones crunched and the veins stood in ridges. Drops of perspiration gathered on his forehead, he wiped them away mechanically.

"Kapitein!" he gasped.

Van Slyck looked at him increduously, for he had not dreamed Muller's feelings ran so deeply.

"You think – she – sometimes thinks of me?"

Van Slyck's nimble wits were calculating the value to him of this new weakness of the controlleur. He foresaw infinite possibilities, Muller in love would be clay in his hands.

"I am positive, mynheer," he assured with the utmost gravity.

"Kapitein, do not make a mistake," Muller entreated. His voice trembled and broke. "Are you absolutely sure?"

Van Slyck restrained a guffaw with difficulty. It was so ridiculous – this mountain of flesh, this sweaty, panting porpoise in his unwashed linen in love with the slender, graceful Koyala. He choked and coughed discreetly.

"I am certain, mynheer," he assured.

"Tell me, kapitein, what makes you think so?" Muller begged.

Van Slyck forced himself to calmness and a judicial attitude.

"You know I have seen something of women, mynheer," he replied gravely. "Both women here and in the best houses in Amsterdam, Paris, and London. Believe me, they are all the same – a fine figure of a man attracts them."

He ran his eye over Muller's form in assumed admiration.

"You have a figure any woman might admire, mynheer. I have seen Koyala's eyes rest on you, and I know what she was thinking. You have but to speak and she is yours."

"Say you so, kapitein!" Muller cried ecstatically.

"Absolutely," Van Slyck assured. His eyes narrowed. The devilish humor incarnate in him could not resist the temptation to harrow this tortured soul. Watching Muller closely, he inquired:

"Then I can expect you to spread the net, mynheer?"

The light died in Muller's eyes. A slow, volcanic fury succeeded it. He breathed deeply and exhaled the breath in an explosive gasp. His hands clenched and the veins in his forehead became almost black. Van Slyck and he leaped to their feet simultaneously.

"Kapitein Van Slyck," he cried hoarsely, "you are a scoundrel! You would sell your own mother. Get out of my sight, or God help you, I will break you in two."

The door of the controlleur's dwelling opened. Muller leaped back, and Van Slyck's hand leaped to his holster.

"I am here, Kapitein Van Slyck," a clear, silvery voice announced coolly.

Koyala stood in the doorway.

CHAPTER VIII

Koyala's Warning

For a moment no one spoke. Koyala, poised lightly on her feet, her slender, shapely young figure held rigidly and her chin uptilted, gazed steadily at Van Slyck. Her black eyes blazed a scornful defiance. Before her contempt even the proud Amsterdammer's arrogance succumbed. He reddened shamefacedly under his tan.

"I am here, Kapitein Van Slyck," Koyala repeated clearly. She stepped toward him and reached out a slender, shapely arm, bare to the shoulder. "Here is my arm, where are your manacles, kapitein?"

"Koyala!" Muller gasped huskily. His big body was trembling with such violence that the veranda shook.

"This is my affair, mynheer," Koyala declared coldly, without removing her eyes from Van Slyck. She placed herself directly in front of the captain and crossed her wrists.

"If you have no irons, use a cord, kapitein," she taunted. "But bind fast. The Argus Pheasant is not easily held captive."

Van Slyck thrust her roughly aside.

"Let's have done with this foolishness," he exclaimed bruskly.

"What folly, mynheer kapitein?" Koyala demanded frigidly.

"You had no business eavesdropping. If you heard something unpleasant you have only yourself to blame."

Koyala's eyes sparkled with anger.

"Eavesdropping, kapitein? I came here with a message of great importance to mynheer the controlleur. Even the birds cock their ears to listen when they hear the hunter approach, kapitein."

Turning her back with scornful indifference on Van Slyck, she crossed over to Muller and placed both her hands on his shoulder. Another fit of trembling seized the acting resident and his eyes swam.

"You will forgive me, will you not, mynheer, for taking such liberties in your house?"

"Of – of course," Muller stammered.

"I heard a little of what was said," Koyala said; "enough to show me that I have a good friend here, a friend on whom I can always rely."

Van Slyck caught the emphasis on the word "friend" and smiled sardonically.

"Well, Sister Koyala," he remarked mockingly, "if you and Brother Muller will be seated we will hear your important message."