“What? Reijnaals—the son-in-law of the member of the Indian Council?”
“Yes, that is the man.”
“Why then he is your man. Come cheer up and let us now together sit down and draw up an accurate account of all that has taken place. That account you will send to Reijnaals. And I also have friends in Batavia who, I think, have some influence. I will write to them. Come let us set to work and begin our battle fearlessly—it is no good moping.” So the two friends sat down to their task and when, very late in the afternoon, Edward van Rheijn came home from his office, two letters almost as bulky as parcels, had been sent off by the mail. Van Rheijn looked weary and care-worn.
“You are very late,” said van Nerekool—“have you been very busy?”
“Yes, very busy,” was the brief reply. “I am tired out and am going to lie down a bit.”
“Anything particular?”
“No, nothing very particular; but plenty of work.”
“What about?” asked van Nerekool.
“Excuse me,” replied van Rheijn putting his fingers to his lips, “they are office-secrets which I am not at liberty to reveal.”
With these words he involuntarily cast a pitying look on William Verstork.