The words were spoken in a mild, ingratiating manner. Peter Gross's voice had the friendly quality that so endeared him to all who made his acquaintance, and the harshness that had distinguished his curt dismissal of the supercilious Van Slyck was wholly absent.
Muller wiped away the drops of perspiration that had gathered on his forehead. A prey to conscience, Van Slyck's dismissal had seemed to him the beginning of the end.
"Ach, mynheer," he faltered, "it has been a heavy task. Too much for one man, altogether too much. Since Mynheer de Jonge left here two years ago I have been both resident and controlleur. I have worked night and day, and the heavy work, and the worry, have made me almost bald."
That a connection existed between baldness and overwork was a new theory to Peter Gross and rather amusing, since he knew the circumstances. But not the faintest flicker of a smile showed on his face.
"You have found it difficult, then, I presume, to keep up with all your work?" he suggested.
Muller instantly grasped at the straw. "Not only difficult, mynheer, but wholly impossible," he vehemently affirmed. "My reports are far behind. I suppose his excellency told you that?"
He scanned Peter Gross's face anxiously. The latter's serenity remained undisturbed.
"His excellency told me very little," he replied. "He suggested that I consult with you and Captain Van Slyck to get your ideas on what is needed for bettering conditions here. I trust I will have your coöperation, mynheer?"
Muller breathed a silent sigh of relief. "That you will, mynheer," he assured fervently. "I shall be glad to help you all I can. And so will Kapitein Van Slyck, I am sure of that. You will find him a good man—a little proud, perhaps, and headstrong, like all these soldiers, but an experienced officer." Muller nodded sagely.
"I am glad to hear that," Peter Gross replied. "The work is a little new to me—I presume you know that?"