He quickly dropped the mood of suspicion, however, for that evening we had another long talk about the island. The next forenoon he took a notion to go aloft; spent a number of hours perched on the main royal yard. There we could see him steadily searching the horizon. We seized the opportunity to talk over his case at length in the cabin, but could come to no decision except to let affairs run their course. "Good Lord, Nichols, suppose he really sights an island, up there!" I suddenly exclaimed. We bent over the chart, pricking off our exact position that morning; and breathed a sigh of relief to discover that, as we were going, we shouldn’t sight any land till the following day. It was in Macassar that we saw the first evidence of violent abberration in Devereux. The three of us had gone ashore for the day; after an early dinner, we were taking a short drive in the cool of the evening through a region of small rice and coffee plantations. Somewhere beyond the outskirts of the town, a native woman stepped from the road in front of us to make way for our horses. She drew back against a fringe of bamboo trees by the roadside, stretched out her arms to part the branches behind her, and stood there motionless, in sharp relief against the sunset, watching us pass by. Beside us, Devereux uttered a wild cry, some unintelligible name, and leaped from the moving vehicle. We found him prostrate at the feet of the woman, babbling in a musical, strange tongue. The light on his face was the very madness of joy. The woman shrieked, drawing back among the bamboo stems. Nichols reassured her in the Bugis dialect. "Devereux, come away!" he commanded sharply "You don’t know her. For God’s sake, come away!" Devereux got up slowly, gazing at us in wild alarm; then held out his arms to the woman. She struggled farther back into the bamboo thicket. Again he turned to us, drew himself together, and spoke with authority and defiance. "She is my wife!" said he. It was pathetic and terrible—the very devil of a scene. He fought and struggled; we had to take him to the carriage by main strength. A crowd had gathered. At last Devereux grew quiet. Nichols explained as best he could to the woman, while half a hundred ears listened eagerly to the astonishing tale. A rapid colloquy ensued; though I couldn’t understand the words, I heard the woman’s voice melt with pity. "She wants to know whether your wife had a birthmark on her bosom" Nichols interpreted, turning to the carriage. Devereux shook his head; he was still dazed with the struggle. The woman left cover, and came close to the carriage without fear. The upper part of her sarong slipped down, disclosing a broad red blotch on the dusky skin above her right breast. Leaning forward, she spoke a few words in a soothing voice. "She says that you must be mistaken" repeated Nichols "She says she is sorry—but now you have seen that it cannot be"