“Mr. Langeveld, do you pay cash down?” asked the auctioneer.
“Cash down?” asked the officer, quite surprised, “what do you mean? Your office always gives three months’ credit.”
“Only to those whose pay is above two hundred and fifty guilders,” said the man.
“Two hundred and fifty guilders? Whose order is that?”
“It is the order of the superintendent of sales at Santjoemeh,” replied the auctioneer.
“The Resident,” muttered van Nerekool, “a most infamous trick!”
“Do you pay ready money? No?” continued the auctioneer, “then you will have to find some security, or else the lot will have to be put up again.”
The officer, who was a man of unblemished name and character, turned fiery red at this wanton and unexpected insult.
“Lieutenant Langeveld, I will be your security!” cried van Nerekool.
The officer bowed his thanks. The second lot of flowers, however, which was much finer than the first, did not fetch a rix-dollar. The shameful dodge at headquarters evidently had its effect on the spirits of the buyers. Grenits saw the drift of all this in a moment. He held a hasty consultation with van Nerekool and a few landowners who were standing by him. Just as the third dozen of pots were being put up, a burly, broad-shouldered gentleman cried out: