“Of course I was, babah,” replied Singo quietly. “I was there,” he continued with a nasty smirk, “to catch old Setrosmito at opium-smuggling.”
“Aye, aye,” said Lim Ho, “that’s true, I know now.”
Lim Ho pronounced these words in a tone of voice which showed that to him the infamous plot whereby a victim had been removed out of his father’s way, was the most trifling incident in the world, a bagatelle which had wholly escaped his memory.
“And did you succeed in finding opium?”
“Of course I did,” replied Singomengolo, “you know well enough, babah, that I always succeed when it suits me to try.”
“Yes, yes,” said Lim Ho in a patronising way, “you are a clever fellow, there is no doubt about that. Dalima’s father has, I suppose, been got rid of at least for a few weeks?”
“Yes, for a longer time than a few weeks,” replied Singo very significantly.
“How so? Has anything else happened then?”
“Setrosmito has run amokh and has killed a countryman of yours outright, and severely wounded a policeman. It was precious nearly all up with me too; but I managed to slip away from him in the very nick of time.”
“Good! good!” said Lim Ho, gleefully rubbing his hands together. “So that?” he continued.