She paused, as if expecting one of those she addressed to speak; but save for acknowledging her salutation, they remained silent. "Have you heard the last news?" "No," replied Mrs Bolter, quickly. "Quick! what is it?" "A couple of boatmen have come in just now with some more relics of our missing party." "What relics?" cried Mrs Bolter, as Grey turned deadly pale. "They have found some scraps of clothing, I believe, and a hat," said the lady. "Where? Where are they?" cried Dr Bolter, coming in hurriedly, for he had been waiting by the door in the not very creditable position of an eavesdropper. "Oh, doctor, how you startled me! I wanted to see you?" exclaimed Mrs Barlow. "I fear I am going to have a bad attack of illness!" Dr Bolter was saved from a bad attack of Mrs Barlow's symptoms, described to him at full length, by the opportune arrival of Harley. "Here, Bolter, I want you," he said, hastily; and making his excuses for having to leave, the doctor hurried out and joined Mr Harley in the garden. "You have had something brought in," said the doctor, hastily. "Where is it?" "Down by the landing-stage. Perowne has got up from his bed to come and see, and Stuart, Murad, and others are down there inspecting them." The doctor accompanied the Resident to the landing-stage, where, in the midst of a little group, lay some wet and torn rags and a sodden hat, muddied and out of shape; while, squatting hard by the foul garments, were a couple of Malay fishermen, who had found the scraps and other articles amongst the mangrove-roots miles away. Dr Bolter threw off his coat and rolled up his sleeves to go down on one knee by the muddy bank, while with contracted eyes and puckered brow the young Rajah looked on. "What do you make of them, doctor?" said the Resident, hoarsely. "Lady's silk dress that has not been taken off, but dragged from its hooks, and ripped and torn away. It seems to have been rolled over and over in the tide till it became fastened on to some snag." A shudder ran through the little party, and the doctor continued his examination. "Hat," he said, turning it over. "Dreadfully battered and soaked; but it is Chumbley's, I think." "What is that?" said Mr Harley, in a low voice. "Coat," said the doctor. "Gentleman's; and this is a small white tie." "Here is a handkerchief," said old Stuart, picking up what looked to be a mere wisp. This the doctor took and rinsed in the clear river, starting back on the instant, and only just in time for, attracted by the motion of the white handkerchief in the water, a small crocodile of some six feet long partially threw itself out of the stream; but falling short of its prey, the reptile shuffled back and was gone. No one spoke; but the presence of these creatures in such abundance, combined with their daring, whispered plainly enough to the party assembled what must be the fate of one who was thrown out into the stream.