It was the Princess Immada who cried
out in distress and wrung her hands. A deep silence fell.
Indeed, before the fatal magnitude of the fact it seemed even to those
Malays that there was nothing to say and Jaffir, lowering his head,
respected his Prince's consternation. Then, before that feeling could
pass away from that small group of people seated round a few smouldering
sticks, the noisy approach of a large party of men made them all leap
to their feet. Before they could make another movement they perceived
themselves discovered. The men were armed as if bound on some warlike
expedition. Amongst them Sentot, in his loin cloth and with unbound wild
locks, capered and swung his arms about like the lunatic he was. The
others' astonishment made them halt, but their attitude was obviously
hostile. In the rear a portly figure flanked by two attendants carrying
swords was approaching prudently. Rajah Hassim resumed quietly his seat
on the trunk of a fallen tree, Immada rested her hand lightly on her
brother's shoulder, and Jaffir, squatting down again, looked at the
ground with all his faculties and every muscle of his body tensely on
the alert.
"Tengga's fighters," he murmured, scornfully.
In the group somebody shouted, and was answered by shouts from afar.
There could be no thought of resistance.
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