Dain bent his head slowly.
"Yes, I am going there," he said.
"Before the day comes ?" asked Babalatchi.
"I am going there now," answered Dain, decisively.

"The Orang Blanda will not be here before to-morrow night, perhaps, and I must tell Almayer of our arrangements." "No, Tuan.

No; say nothing," protested Babalatchi.

"I will go over myself at sunrise and let him know." "I will see," said Dain, preparing to go.
The thunderstorm was recommencing outside, the heavy clouds hanging low overhead now.
There was a constant rumble of distant thunder punctuated by the nearer sharp crashes, and in the continuous play of blue lightning the woods and the river showed fitfully, with all the elusive distinctness of detail characteristic of such a scene.

Outside the door of the Rajah's house Dain and Babalatchi stood on the shaking verandah as if dazed and stunned by the violence of the storm.