“Find out, Amber,” shrilled Whitey, “you are clever--find out, like we had to; we didn’t get our information by asking people,--we went and looked!” He groped round on the floor of the half darkened bungalow and found his hat. “We’re leavin’ to-morrow,” said Whitey, “an’ the first thing we shall do when we reach a civilized port is to put them wise to you--eh? It don’t do to have gaol birds wandering and gallivanting about British Possessions!” He nodded his head threateningly, and was rewarded by that smile which was Amber’s chief charm. “Mr. Whitey!” said Amber softly, “you will not leave to-morrow, the ship will sail without you.” “Eh!” “The ship will sail minus,” repeated Amber. “No Whitey, no Lambaire.” He shook his head. “What do you mean?” For answer Amber tapped the foolscap which he had taken back from the protesting hand of Whitey. “Somewhere here,” he pointed to a place marked with a cross, “near a dried river bed, a man died. I want evidence of his death, and of the manner in which he met it, before I let you go.” There was another pause. “What do you mean by that, Mr. Amber?” asked Whitey, and his voice was unsteady. “Exactly what I say,” said the other quietly. “Do you think we murdered him?” Amber shrugged his shoulders. “We shall know one way or the other before you leave us,” he said easily. There was something in his tone which chilled the two men before him. “I shall know, because I have sent a search party back to the place where you say you left Mr. Sutton,” he went on. “Your late interpreter will have no difficulty in finding the spot--he is already on his way.” Lambaire was as white as death. “We did nothing to Sutton,” he said doggedly. Amber inclined his head. “That we shall know,” he said. Walking from the bungalow to the hut which the Commissioner had placed at their disposal, Lambaire suddenly stopped and touched his companion’s arm. “Suppose,” he gasped, “suppose----” Whitey shook off the grip. “Don’t go mad,” he said roughly, “suppose what?” “Suppose--some wandering native--found him and speared him. We’d get the credit for that.” “My God, I never thought of that!” It gave them both something to think about in the weary days of waiting. They learnt that the word of Amber was law. They saw him once at a distance, but they sought no interview with him. Also they learnt of the presence, at headquarters, of Cynthia Sutton. For some reason this worried them, and they wondered how much she knew. She knew all, if the truth be told. Dry-eyed and pale she had listened whilst Amber, with all the tenderness of a woman, had broken the news the Commissioner had sent.