Conscious of having said too much again, Muller made no reply. They sipped their drinks in silence, Peter Gross thinking deeply the while why Ah Sing should make a former waiter in his rumah makan Muller's servant. Presently he said:
"If it is not too much trouble, mynheer, could you show me my house?"
"Gladly, mynheer," Muller exclaimed, rising with alacrity. "It is only a few steps. We will go at once."
For the next half hour Peter Gross and he rambled through the dwelling. It was modeled closely after the controlleur's own, with a similar green and white façade facing the sea. The atmosphere within was damp and musty, vermin scurried at their approach, but Peter Gross saw that the building could be made tenable in a few days. At last they came to a sequestered room on the north side, facing the hills. An almost level expanse of garden lay back of it.
"This was Mynheer de Jonge's own apartment," Muller explained. "Here he did most of his work." He sighed heavily. "He was a fine old man. It is too bad the good God had to take him away from us."
Peter Gross's lips pressed together tightly.
"Mynheer de Jonge was careless of his health, I hear," he remarked. "One cannot be too careful in Bulungan. Therefore, mynheer, I must ask you to get me a crew of men busy at once erecting two long houses, after these plans." He took a drawing from his pocket and showed it to Muller. The controlleur blinked at it with a puzzled frown.
"These buildings will ruin the view, mynheer," he expostulated. "Such long huts—they are big enough for thirty men. What are they for?"
"Protection against the fevers, mynheer," Peter Gross said dryly. "The fevers that killed Mynheer de Jonge."