The Five Knots by Fred M. White

There was something almost pathetic in the way in which Uzali uttered the few words which passed his lips. His face was devoid of all trace of anger, his dark eyes had grown very sad.

"I am afraid you will hardly understand me," he said. "It is almost impossible for Western people to enter into the thoughts and ambitions of the East. You would hardly suppose to see me sitting here in the heart of London, surrounded by these evidences of civilization that I am a man who has set his heart upon the remaking of a nation. And yet, up to a few moments ago, that ambition was as strong and keen as ever. And now it has been dispelled like a dream. But perhaps I had better not talk in this poetic strain. Three or four years ago I came to England to see if I could come to terms with the Government. You see, both my brother and myself had been educated here, and we thought it was just possible that the British Government would take our province under their protection. We had talked it over scores of times, and, at last I came to England to see what I could do. It is about three years since the news of the catastrophe came to me, and even then I learnt it through the medium of one of the newspapers. I suppose the Press did not think it worth more than a paragraph, which merely told of the disaster of the lake and how the tribe to which it belonged had been swept out of existence. Mind you, I did not think there was anything wrong. It seemed not unnatural that some great storm might sweep the dam away, and then the rest would have been a mere matter of minutes. But I was not satisfied. I went to Borneo to make inquiries, and eventually I found two survivors of the disaster. Then it was I discovered what had taken place. I can assure you, from that time to this I have done nothing but investigate and investigate till, by slow degrees, I have hit upon the right track. But tell me, gentlemen, how did you find me out?"