August van Beneden did not reply; but the deepest indignation was visible in his countenance.
“Come,” said Verstork, as he tried to calm his friend, “let us not remain standing here, men, women and children are beginning to crowd round.”
“Those people,” cried Grenits, “were just now looking on at those filthy scenes through the chinks of the bamboo walls.”
“And,” said van Beneden, “the opium farmers did not try to prevent them, but seemed on the contrary to encourage them. I could see it all plainly enough.”
“Come,” said Verstork again, “let us be off. Let us go and sit down again under the Wariengien tree. Oppas,” continued he to one of the policemen who always kept near him, “you go and tell these dessa people that they are to go home—it is time for all to go to sleep.”
CHAPTER XVI.
THE OPIUM-MONOPOLY. A QUIET CHAT.
The people of Kaligaweh were quiet folk, and did as they were told. Very soon the dessa had resumed its ordinary peaceful appearance, and the little group of European gentlemen were once again seated under the widely-spreading crown of the gigantic wild-fig tree. But if, a short time ago, they had paid but very little attention to the wondrous beauties of the tropical night, their visit to the opium-den made them still more indifferent to its attractions. As soon as they were again seated, the conversation, naturally enough, turned upon the terrible scenes which they had witnessed.
“In that passage,” said Grashuis, who, as surveyor, was accustomed to take in local details at a glance, “there were twenty-four doors and therefore there must be twenty-four such hideous pens. If all of them—What a pity it is that we allowed ourselves to be scared and that we did not carry out our investigation to the end.”