"Yes," replied the Rajah; "but it is hard--very hard. It masters me, and I feel that I cannot bear it. You know what I have suffered, and how I fought it down. Mr Harley, Mr Perowne, did I not act like an English gentleman would have done?" "Yes, yes," said Mr Perowne, hastily. "I tried so hard that I might," he whispered. "I was born a Malay; but I am trying to become more like you. I thought I had mastered everything; but when I hear this news it is too much for me, and--Mr Harley--doctor--give me something to make me calm, or I shall go mad." He turned away and stood for a few moments with his back to them, while the party assembled whispered their thoughts till the young man turned once more, and they saw that his face was calm and impassive, as if no furious storm of rage had just been agitating its surface. "What are you going to do?" he said, in a low, deep voice, gazing from Mr Perowne to the Resident and back again. "Search, sir, until we have found the lady," said the latter, quietly. "I will help," said the Rajah; whose eyes emitted a flash that told of the rage in his heart. "Thank you," said the Resident, quietly. "You will pursue them?" continued the Rajah. "Tell me, by your laws do you kill this man for what he has done?" "We do not think there is any need of pursuit, sir," replied Mr Harley, quietly; "we fear that there has been an accident." "I have brought down two nagas, and two smaller boats," cried the Rajah, eagerly. "There are a hundred of my people waiting. Shall I send them to follow, or will you give them your commands? They are your slaves until this is done." The Resident stood thinking for a minute or two, and the Rajah turned from him impatiently. "We lose time!" he cried, angrily. "Mr Perowne, you do not speak. Tell me--you are her father--what shall I do?" Mr Perowne held out his hand, which the Rajah seized. "Thank you, Rajah," he said simply; "but we must be guided by wisdom in what we do. Mr Harley will speak directly. He is trying to help us. I cannot say more," he faltered. "I am crushed and helpless under this blow." "Tut, mon! don't give way!" whispered old Stuart, going to his side. "Keep a stout hairt and all will be well." A couple of hours of indecision passed away, for the coming of the Rajah had thrown them off the track. They had had one scent to follow, and, however blindly, they were about to attempt it, but were now thrown back upon two other lines--the one being the suggestion of an accident; the other of elopement. The hot day was wearing on, and the boatmen were returning boat by boat, but without the slightest information, not even a vague suggestion upon which hope could be hung. Still, nothing more had been done--nothing seemed possible under the circumstances; and a general feeling of despondency was gathering over the little community, when a new suspicion dawned in the Resident's mind, and he blamed himself for not having thought of it before.