have made mistakes, or yielded to some unfortunate impulse; some—my own is a case in point—may be the victims of conspiracy on the one part and misunderstanding on another. But in any case, if ever we had to leave Faloo, where could we go? I know of no place from which we should not promptly be sent back to our native land, to be tried by some clumsy tribunal that on half the facts of the case judges a man’s isolated acts apart from his motives and his general character and his mode of life.”

“Hear, hear,” said Mr Bassett.

“Now comes my point. Our safety lies in the obscurity and insignificance of Faloo. Make it of importance—get it talked about—and we are lost. Now Smith’s great idea is to boom Faloo, to extend his own trade indefinitely, and he even has dreams of finally getting its independence formally acknowledged. This last he will probably never do, because the island would be annexed, but if he did, part of the price of independence would be an extradition treaty. He has been described as enterprising, and the description is true. He even now has a plan for blasting the reef and throwing open the harbour for his own trading ships. He speaks often of the loss and the danger occasioned by loading and unloading by canoes a vessel lying outside the reef. Well, there is only room for a canoe or a small boat to get through the reef now, and there will never be any more room, so long as we have the whip-hand of Mr Smith. His interests and ours are diametrically opposed. How can we admit such a man to terms of perfect equality as would be implied by membership of this club? Why should he ask it except as a means to push his schemes with injudicious members, lured by the prospect of a money advantage? What would it profit us, gentlemen, if we gained all the money in the world and lost—er—this quiet retreat from the malicious people who are anxious to interfere with us? Believe me, he has no love for the white man. If he permits the French Mission it is because the French Mission is a regular and lucrative customer and the priests help to educate him. He is genial and hospitable; but we also are regular and lucrative customers and much more than that. He has been of service to us; two or three times he has sent off, with almost needless brutality, low-class English and Americans, without a five-pound note to call their own, who have attempted to establish themselves here. He serves us, because we do not want that type. But he serves himself too, for they are no use to him either. I have known Smith longer than any white man on this island, and I know that extension of trade and the making of money is his first aim. He’d like a regular trading fleet instead of the ramshackle tramps he owns at present. When I came here he lived in a leaf-thatched shanty and had hardly anything. See how far he has got on already; he means to go twenty times as far as that. And when he’s got the money he’s on to something else—he doesn’t talk about it, and I don’t know much about it, but I do know that it will be something with King Smith in it and ourselves outside. Now at present we’ve got the whip-hand of that gentleman, and we’ve got to keep it. We’ve got the whip-hand, because the money on which his business is run is our money and under our own control. I have put seven hundred golden sovereigns into it, Dr Pryce has two hundred, Mr Bassett two hundred, and other members have smaller sums, making fifteen hundred in all. From the very beginning I took the line that (in the absence of ordinary legal safeguards) the borrower must trust the lender and the lender must trust nobody. We see such books as he keeps; we practically control the bank. We know what he’s doing. We can say ‘go on’ and we can say ‘stop.’ Smith controls the natives? He does. He can enforce the ‘taboo’? He can. And what on earth does it matter so long as we control Smith? It’s money that talks. And that reminds me that I’ve been doing a lot of talking myself, though I’ve still got one more point to raise. You don’t mind?”

“I want to hear everything you’ve got against Smith; it’ll help me to show the other side,” said Mr Bassett.

“My own mind is still open,” said Dr Soames Pryce. “Let me hear you both by all means. At present it doesn’t seem to me to matter a curse whether we elect him or not. But might I suggest an interlude?”

“Certainly,” said Sir John. “The same idea had just occurred to me.” He struck the bell repeatedly, until Thomas appeared on the verandah. A sign gave the order, and fresh drinks were brought out.

“Now for my last point,” said Sir John. “England has not treated me well, and it would probably treat me worse if it could get me, but I can never forget that I am an Englishman. We white men here”—his voice vibrated—“are the representatives of the conquering races.”

Dr Soames Pryce concealed a smile.

“We have a certain amount of prestige among the natives, and we cannot give away prestige and keep it. Our action in electing Mr Smith would be read by the natives as a concession made from fear. He would be exalted, and we should be debased. A rule of the club prohibits the introduction of any native as a guest; I have not the least doubt that the election of a native would also have been prohibited, had it ever been supposed that such an event was possible. Let us treat Mr Smith with kindness and civility. He likes to exercise hospitality, and I sometimes look in at his place and take a drink with him. But we must not elect him as an equal. If you two gentlemen are divided in your opinions my casting vote goes against Mr Smith.”

Sir John leaned back in his chair, removed his hat and mopped his bald head with his handkerchief. He was convinced that the election of Smith would be disastrous, and he had done his best to prevent it. Bassett, he knew, would support Smith, but Sir John counted on opposition from the doctor.

“Well, now, Mr Bassett,” said Sir John.

But Mr Bassett suddenly adopted a conciliatory and even flattering attitude towards Dr Soames Pryce.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Better take things in their order of importance. Dr Pryce—most popular and representative—better hear him first.”

“My mind’s still open,” said Dr Pryce. “Sir John’s been talking rather as if the Exiles’ Club were the Athenæum and King Smith were a doubtful archdeacon. We aren’t the Athenæum. We represent the dead-beat section of the conquering races. As we have referred to the past I may mention that we comprise men who have had to skip and can’t go back.”

“A little too strongly put,” said Sir John.

“I’m only saying what you’ve been thinking,” said Dr Pryce. “Poor old Thomas messed his accounts at the Cabinet Club and he had to skip, and it’s supposed to be the same all the way up through the members. All we ask about a white candidate is how much he brought with him or can have sent out to him. If he can afford it he’s a member. Our rules are easy, but we don’t change members’ cheques, and it’s a recognised principle with us that we believe in the money we see and in no other money. If the cash isn’t on the table there’s no bet. That being so, ought we to put on side? Can we carry it?”

“Certainly not. Hear hear!” said Mr Bassett with enthusiasm.

“Sir John says we’ve got the whip-hand of King Smith now. True. So we have. So we shall still have if he’s made a member. Sir John thinks that if Smith opens the harbour and widens the trade the island will be grabbed and we shall be grabbed too. I should