“I am the most foolish of men. " "In what way, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, in astonishment. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. Knowing the South Seas from hearsay and by travel, he knew something of that inertia which blunted the fineness, innate and acquired, of white men and women, the eternal warfare against indifference and slovenliness. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon.
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