Chapter 12 - Page 2

troubled, absent expression that occasionally came
into Sheldon's eyes. After coffee, she left them; and at midnight,
from across the compound, she could hear the low murmur of their
voices and see glowing the fiery ends of their cigars. Up early
herself, she found they had already departed on another tramp over
the plantation.

"What you think?" she asked Viaburi.

"Sheldon marster he go along finish short time little bit," was the
answer.

"What you think?" she asked Ornfiri.

"Sheldon marster big fella walk about along Sydney. Yes, me t'ink
so. He finish along Berande."

All day the examination of the plantation and the discussion went
on; and all day the skipper of the Malakula sent urgent messages
ashore for the two men to hasten. It was not until sunset that
they went down to the boat, and even then a final talk of nearly an
hour took place on the beach. Sheldon was combating something--
that she could plainly see; and that his two visitors were not
giving in she could also plainly see.

"What name?" she asked lightly, when Sheldon sat down to dinner.

He looked at her and smiled, but it was a very wan and wistful
smile.

"My word," she went on. "One big fella talk. Sun he go down--
talk-talk; sun he come up--talk-talk; all the time talk-talk. What
name that fella talk-talk?

"Oh, nothing much." He shrugged his shoulders. "They were trying
to buy Berande, that was all."

She looked at him challengingly.

"It must have been more than that. It was you who wanted to sell."

"Indeed, no, Miss Lackland; I assure you that I am far from
desiring to sell."

"Don't let us fence about it," she urged. "Let it be straight talk
between us. You're in trouble. I'm not a fool. Tell me.
Besides, I may be able to help, to--to suggest something."

In the pause that followed, he seemed to debate, not so much
whether he would tell her, as how to begin to tell her.

"I'm American, you see," she persisted, "and our American heritage
is a large parcel of business sense. I don't like it myself, but I
know I've got it--at least more than you have. Let us talk it over
and find a way out. How much do you owe?"

"A thousand pounds, and a few trifles over--small bills, you know.
Then, too, thirty of the boys finish their time next week, and
their balances will average ten pounds each. But what is the need
of bothering your head with it? Really, you know--"

"What is Berande worth?--right now?"

"Whatever Morgan and Raff are willing to pay for it." A glance at
her hurt expression decided him. "Hughie and I have sunk eight
thousand pounds in it, and our time. It is a good property, and
worth more than that. But it