“What do I care,” shouted Grenits; “let go my arm, I will soon settle the matter with that confounded opium spy!”
Singomengolo stood there before him with an indescribable look of ferocious malice on his evil countenance. He had laid his hand on the hilt of his kris and, proud and impetuous as he naturally was, he would undoubtedly have answered any act of violence with a stab of his knife, if indeed the first blow had not laid him senseless.
For a moment he stood glaring at the European with bold and glittering eye. Then suddenly he seemed to change his mind. He released the girl’s arm, for, across the rice fields, he now saw another group advancing rapidly. In this group his quick sight had at once recognised not only the Controller of Banjoe Pahit but also the wedono of the district, and at the sight his sallow face grew pale.
“What’s all this about?” asked Verstork as he came up to the spot.
“That wretched woman has been smuggling opium, Kandjeng toean,” replied Singomengolo.
“That woman?”
“But—” cried van Nerekool, in amazement. “But, it is Dalima!”
“Dalima?”
“Yes Dalima, the baboe of the Resident.”
“Good,” said van Rheijn, with a laugh. “Our Resident keeps a baboe—a stock of feeding bottles also—no doubt!”