“Ardjan,” continued Laurentia, again quite calmly, “is an arch-smuggler, he belongs to a family of smugglers. Just lately—a day or two ago—his father was caught in the act, and offered armed resistance to the police in the execution of their duties. Such scum as that must be severely dealt with—do you hear?”
“Yes, madam, I hear,” said van Nerekool, drily, “I know that he did offer resistance to the authorities; but—as far as opium-smuggling is concerned—”
“Smuggling!” cried the lady, vehemently, “is theft—is theft! you know that well enough, Mr. van Nerekool, it is stealing from the revenue, it is stealing from the public purse.”
“Most undoubtedly it is, madam; but what I wanted to ask is—Has this case of smuggling been properly brought home to them?”
“Oh, certainly it has,” cried Laurentia. “Ardjan is the guilty man—there is no one else to suspect. Of course, I know well enough that a conspiracy had been formed to cast suspicion upon Lim Ho, the son of the great opium farmer. Now what an absurdity!—the son of the farmer who, with his father, has the greatest interest in stopping all smuggling transactions!—it is simply absurd. I know also that in order further to prejudice Lim Ho, an accusation has been trumped up against him in the upper court, in which he is charged with having flogged Ardjan with Kamadoog leaves. But, of course, Mr. van Nerekool, you will know how to tear to pieces that web of deceit and perjury. You will know how to deal with that nest of smugglers, and make short work of all these perjurers!”
“Madam,” replied the young man, “you may be quite sure that, if I have the honour of being appointed to the temporary presidency of the lower court, I shall, to the best of my abilities, discharge my duties with the strictest impartiality. He who is in the right shall have justice; and he who is guilty, shall not evade the punishment he deserves. I happen to know something about that smuggling business, and also of the so-called resistance to the police of which Pak Ardjan stands accused, and I think I can assure you that neither father nor son is as culpable as he is supposed to be.”
“What a downright simpleton the booby is,” thought Mrs. van Gulpendam.
“Mr. van Nerekool,” she whispered in his ear, “the Resident is quite right—You are not a practical man.”
“But, madam—”
“But remember, it is only if you follow my directions, that Anna will be yours. You mind that!”