slip a knife between your ribs as look at you.”
“How about poisoned darts?” Stark demanded, his voice sharp and intent.
“That, too. It’s these damned Bataks,” Hodges growled.
“Much trouble?” he casually asked.
“Trouble?” Hodges’ eyes seemed to dance again. “Of course there’s trouble. If it ain’t one thing it’s another—these damned gooks will knock us all off before they’re through.”
“Still, there’d have to be a reason . . .”
“Reason, hell. Anything serves as a reason in this country. I could tell you plenty—” Whatever he started to say was broken by Selinda’s sudden appearance.
“The guest of honor . . . I’m afraid we’re neglecting you.” She made a mock bow at Hodges. “Mike promised we wouldn’t talk business tonight, remember?”
“We were just gossiping,” Stark commented.
“And neglecting the girls,” she finished.
“Not by choice. Besides—” he smiled—“the prettiest ones are married.”
“You, too, Mr. Stark,” she demurred severely. “I seem to have heard that line before.”
He laughed, at the same time seeing Hodges sneer.
“I have no doubt of that, Mrs. Hawker,” he gallantly declared.
“For heaven’s sake, call me Selinda.”
“And I’m Joe.”
Hodges turned abruptly away, and her eyes followed him musingly before turning back.
“All right, Joe.” She slipped her arm through his and swung him toward a corner where Tombuk was mixing drinks. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Chatting for a while over a couple of gin slings, he idly asked how long she’d lived in Palembang, noting her hesitancy before answering.
“A little over a year,” she confessed.
“Oh?” He arched his eyes. “Then you haven’t been married long.” He made it a statement.
“The same length of time,” she admitted. “I met Mike in Singapore. Well . . .” She shrugged.
“And he swept you off your feet,” he interjected.
“Something like that.” A distant look clouded her face. “I miss it sometimes.”
“Singapore?”
“Of course.”
“But you’re not sorry?” This time she looked gravely at him while he waited, sensing she was considering her answer.
“I don’t know,” she said finally. “At times I think Palembang’s at the end of the world.”
“It pratically is,” he conceded.
She swung toward him and touched his hand. “Anyway, I’m glad you came.”
“Why?” he asked, sensing he already knew the answer.
“Because of this.” She gestured toward the room. “It’s not often we have an excuse for a party, even a quiet one like this.”
“Quiet?” he politely asked. Hodges was talking with Pete Holden, one of the field supervisors, and his voice had risen above the sound of the phonograph. She laughed as she caught his meaning.
“You’ll have to forgive Jasper,” she explained. “Everyone out here has to have an escape. His is drink.”
“And his wife’s?”
She didn’t answer immediately. The suggestion of amusement touched her lips, slowly breaking into a mischievous smile.
“Why don’t you ask her?” she challenged.
“I’d rather ask you,” Stark told her deliberately.
“About Martha?” Mockery filled her face.
“About you,” he pursued. The look left her face.
“I escape, too,” she answered simply.
“That sounds interesting.”
“Mmmmm . . .” She looked deliciously at him and he was surprised to find himself faintly disturbed and a bit puzzled over the turn the conversation had taken.
He regarded her with new insight; she returned his stare, open-faced, her dark eyes curiously somnolent. When two late guests arrived, a shade of disappointment flicked across her countenance.
She said tonelessly, “The Vandervoorts . . . from the Plaju plant. I’ll introduce you.”
Stark found himself shaking hands with a portly, middle-aged man who spoke with a thick Dutch accent. The fat woman with him was his wife. Releasing Stark’s hand he began apologizing to Selinda for their tardiness, explaining it was due to the preparations for demolishing the plant.
“Poof, the same old excuse,” Selinda facetiously exclaimed.
When the Dutchman stopped laughing, Stark asked how the work was progressing. He began explaining that all the plants on the lower Plaju were being mined for simultaneous destruction, but in the middle of the conversation Hawker broke in and called for drinks.
Stark noticed Selinda had withdrawn to talk with Mrs. Vandervoort and Texas Smith at the other side of the room. She glanced toward him and their eyes met briefly before she turned away. Hawker switched the conversation to tiger hunting, a favorite and necessary pastime. Stark listened a few minutes, then excused himself and wandered off, thinking he’d like to get drunk.
The evening had almost passed before he managed to corner Suzanne Ebell alone. Despite Hawker’s assertion of her coldness, she’d been the undisputed belle of the ball, seldom without a group of people around her.
He finally caught her between partners, saying, “I’m lonesome.”
A brief smile lit her face. “I’m afraid we haven’t been taking very good care of you, Mr. Stark.” Her eyes appraised him without seeming to.
“Joe’s the name,” he informed her.
“I like that better,” she replied. “I’m Suzanne.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t appear neglected,” she accused. So she had noticed! He knew she made reference to the fact that Selinda had kept him in tow for much of the evening.
“Our hostess is too gracious,” he murmured. “She felt sorry for me.”
“I can’t believe that.”
He
