He looked up to find Naroina, Lady Tittle, the Sisters Lovett and Miss Jepps, all mother-naked, standing by his side. Behind them were some native girls bearing towels, and-joy of joys-bottles and glasses.
'So white sharer of my bed, you were not content with the mother, you must have the daughter also,' said Naroina laughingly.
Billy Neale mumbled something about he hoped he hadn't, etc., but Naroina cut him short.
'I am not jealous, my ivory-fleshed devil,' she said, "you are the first white man my little Lona has laid with. Was it nice, fruit of my womb?'
'Divine, bearer of me,' answered the girl simply, 'and-must I go to the doctor this time?'
'No, picture-of thy father, this time thou shalt bear a child to the white man.'
Both Neale and the girl were standing now, and Naroina, coming between them, joined their hands.
'May thy fruit, white man, be blessed by the sun,' she said.
The girl dropped on one knee and kissed Neale's hand. The actor was a little abashed, and the giggles of the Sisters Lovett made him feel momentarily silly. Still it had been lovely: he had done some fucking in his time, for he had not been the idol of a Broadway theatre without having the longing persons of all classes of women laid at his feet, but he had never had anything quite so idyllic as this.
'Well, Billy,' said the eldest of the Sisters Lovett,' Ve're all going swimming; join us?'
But Lady Tittle knew her man.
'I dare say that our hostess will see that you are refreshed first,' she said-she wanted a drink badly herself.
They gave Neale champagne of the best, and his vitality and his lust bubbled anew within him. He meant to go through those other two little darlings before he was finished. Lady Tittle did not join the others in the sea. She opened her parasol and sat by the actor on the sand.
'Well?' she queried smilingly, 'which was the best, the mother or the daughter?'
'They were both divine,' answered Neale. 'I tell you, my dear Lady Tittle, I never want to quit this island.'
'Nor I, I think. I suppose none of you men have managed to find out definitely who the charming young man who brought us here really is?'
'My dear Lady Tittle,' answered Neale, 'we haven't exactly, but we have our suspicions. Certain it is that he is a nobleman, certain also it is that he bears upon his body tattoo marks which correspond in a marked degree to those supposed to have been borne by that young Duke of St Eden who disappeared so-er-mysteriously. I think Lord Reggie knows for certain, but his mouth is sealed.'
'I suppose this island is immensely rich?' said Lady Tittle pensively.
'Rich, my dear madam! Rich beyond the dreams of avarice!'
CHAPTER FOUR. The Doctor, or Medical Customs in Fleur de La Chair
Dr Southfields sat in his consulting-room in a bad temper. He had had rather an unfortunate morning. Called away in a hurry from the young man's, where he had been drinking much more than was good for him, he had had to operate hurriedly on a workman who had had his leg crushed in an accident at the mine. Unfortunately in his hurry he had cut off the wrong leg. Of course it had been necessary to amputate the damaged one as well, and the man had died of shock. It was a nuisance, because the man was one of the best workmen, and John Tucker had been quite rude about it. It had come rather quickly after the unfortunate leaving of an operating knife in the stomach of a lady patient That was also a nuisance, as it was his best knife, and he had had the lady buried without a post-mortem, to save a possible expose. Then, too, he was painfully conscious that he had given one of the young man's favourite wives a deadly poison instead of cod liver oil, and he had not heard the result yet. Altogether he was vexed with life in general.
He had an irritation in his penis, and had a nasty suspicion of clap; he had had a blow-through with one of the Sisters Lovett. He was examining his prick nervously when the door opened and John Tucker came into the room without having knocked.
'Sorry to disturb you,' he said. 'Anything wrong with the old man, raise tooth under the foreskin, or anything jolly?'
'No, a nasty irritation, that's all.'
'Look here, young man,' said John Tucker sharply, 'if there's any clap about it's your job to localise it and stop it; or into the bay you go for the sharks to play with, not that they'd get much of a meal out of you. Now see here, there's something wrong with Herr Kunst's arsehole, and you've got to cure it He's going to be a valuable man to me, and I must have his health kept right.'
'Been buggering him?'
'No thanks; I wasn't at Eton. He's been using the place as a sort of privy purse, and he can't shit regular and complains of pains in the bowels. I've left him to you. You know more about arseholes than I do. Here he comes.'
Dr Southfields examined Herr Kunst's arsehole with the air of a connoisseur. It wasn't exactly a pretty sight, and he put four fingers up it with ease.
'I have some diamonds in him keep,' explained Herr Kunst, 'und I have the most fearful suspicionings that I have lose one up him, ain't it?'
'I'll give you something that'll shift all that,' said the doctor.
After Herr Kunst had taken the draught, he was shown the way to the WC, and Dr Southfields returned to his consulting-room to gargle his throat. He had sucked off one of the chaps from the New Decameron overnight, and if there was any clap about he didn't want a bad throat.
He had finished that, and carefully washed his prick when Hony was announced.
'I haven't seen anything this month,' she said.
'Hadn't you better see an oculist?' said the doctor, unable to resist cracking a hospital joke.
'Don't be funny,' snapped Hony. 'I think I'm caught, and you've got to get me out of it, the young man says so.'
The doctor took a bottle from a cupboard.
'There, my dear,' he said, 'I don't think you'll have to worry much after you've taken that. Still,' he added, as an afterthought, as he noticed once more how really delightfully pretty the girl was, 'it would be better for me to examine you. Do you mind undressing?'
Hony did not, and the young doctor soon had a ravishing view of dainty drawers and chemise.
It was a pretty room, and Hony made a fittingly pretty ornament for it. Her sea-green stockings and green morocco shoes went well with the artistic green distemper of the walls. The pictures were nearly all daring nudes.
The doctor laid Hony on a green couch, and examined her carefully and at length.
'You are, I'm afraid, my dear,' he said; 'but the drug won't hurt you. Only take care of yourself, and, whatever the temptation of our free and easy life, don't get wandering about with too little on and catch cold.'
He kissed her lightly, and she wriggled softly against him.
Dr Southfields didn't go in much for fucking: he looked on it as a much over-rated pastime, and preferred drink. In feet, he held the theory that in a correct state of intoxication he could imagine really beautiful lust-scenes which were quite impossible if attempted in reality.
Hony, however, was so out of the way pretty that he determined to favour her. He had no scruples about professional etiquette on this island, not that he had had many when practising in London.
Dr Southfields was an epicure in fornication; he maintained that if the thing had to be done it should be accompanied by every possible comfort, and in no hurry. He knew that Herr Kunst would probably be busy in the WC for some time.
He beckoned Hony to follow him into a pleasant bathroom. It was not elaborate like Helena's, but very delightful. The floor was covered with thick green coconut matting and the sunk bath itself was lined with green tiles, decorated with Japanese pictures of fish. There was a shower-bath, a large array of art-coloured bath towels, and an imposing battery of toilet utensils. On one side the room was open to a little grass plot surrounded by a high palisade. Some little Japanese spaniels were playing there, and gaily coloured tropical birds aired their plumage.