 from the house, and let me attend to my business in peace.«
    Dain Maroola came the next day and had a long conversation with Almayer.
This was the beginning of a close and friendly intercourse which, at first, was
much remarked in Sambir, till the population got used to the frequent sight of
many fires burning in Almayer's campong, where Maroola's men were warming
themselves during the cold nights of the northeast monsoon, while their master
had long conferences with the Tuan Putih - as they styled Almayer amongst
themselves. Great was the curiosity in Sambir on the subject of the new trader.
Had he seen the Sultan? What did the Sultan say? Had he given any presents? What
would he sell? What would he buy? Those were the questions broached eagerly by
the inhabitants of bamboo houses built over the river. Even in more substantial
buildings, in Abdulla's house, in the residences of principal traders, Arab,
Chinese, and Bugis, the excitement ran high, and lasted many days. With inborn
suspicion they would not believe the simple account of himself the young trader
was always ready to give. Yet it had all the appearance of truth. He said he was
a trader, and sold rice. He did not want to buy gutta-percha or beeswax, because
he intended to employ his numerous crew in collecting trepang on the coral reefs
outside the river, and also in seeking for birds' nests on the mainland. Those
two articles he professed himself ready to buy if there were any to be obtained
in that way. He said he was from Bali, and a Brahmin, which last statement he
made good by refusing all food during his often repeated visits to Lakamba's and
Almayer's houses. To Lakamba he went generally at night and had long audiences.
Babalatchi, who was always a third party at those meetings of potentate and
trader, knew how to resist all attempts on the part of the curious to ascertain
the subject of so many long talks. When questioned with languid courtesy by the
grave Abdulla he sought refuge in a vacant stare of his one eye, and in the
affectation of extreme simplicity.
    »I am only my master's slave,« murmured Babalatchi, in a hesitating manner.
Then as if making up his mind suddenly for a reckless confidence he would inform
Abdulla of some transaction in rice, repeating the words, »A hundred big bags
the Sultan bought; a hundred, Tuan!« in a tone of mysterious solemnity. Abdulla,
firmly persuaded of the existence of some more important dealings, received,
