That was too much for Grenits. “There! there!” he shouted livid with rage, “there, there! take that.” And at the words he dealt the infamous scoundrel two swinging blows in the face.
“Mr. Grenits! Mr. Grenits,” cried Verstork in a dignified manner, “Do pray control yourself, do not make my official duty more difficult to perform than it already is.”
CHAPTER XX.
A DINNER-PARTY.
A few hours later our sportsmen were seated at table in the pandoppo of the Controller’s house at Banjoe Pahit. Fritz Mokesuep, however, we need hardly say, was not of the party. William Verstork was a man who, as a rule, could put up with a good deal; but on this occasion he had not cared to conceal the aversion with which that individual inspired him.
As soon as poor Dalima had been properly attended to, and under escort of a policeman, had been sent off in a tandoe as a prisoner to Santjoemeh, the Controller had told Mokesuep, in pretty plain language, that, after what had taken place between him and Grenits, his company could very well be dispensed with.
“It seems to me,” had been Mokesuep’s reply, “that the person who inflicted the insult is the one that ought to stand aside.”
“Such, no doubt would, under ordinary circumstances, have been my opinion also,” returned Verstork, with icy coolness; “but before I can consent to receive you as my guest, you will have to explain to me, in a satisfactory way, how you came to be in this hut, so far from the hunting-ground, and just at the time when the young girl was so shamefully ill-used.”
“She has not been—” interrupted Mokesuep.