“Mr. Zuidhoorn, after leave of absence has been granted you, you have no right whatever to occupy the chair. I enter my protest against the course of action you have seen fit to adopt; and I call upon you now to resign your place to the Resident who intends this day to preside in person.”
“Mr. Secretary,” replied Mr. Zuidhoorn with the utmost calmness, “it is not my intention to enter into any argument with you about my rights. You will inform the Resident that I shall not resign my seat; and that I intend, to the last moment, to carry out conscientiously the duties of my office. Again I request you to withdraw, in order that the court may proceed with the business it has before it.”
“Mr. Zuidhoorn!” cried the secretary, in a threatening tone of voice, “mind what you are about!”
“The entire responsibility rests upon my shoulders, Mr. Secretary. Usher, clear the court, and see that it be not further disturbed!”
Mr. van Gulpendam flew into a foaming rage when he received the message. In a towering passion he strode up and down the front-gallery of the Residence, the secretary striving like a dog to keep up with him, which his corpulence however would hardly allow him to do.
“What insolence!” shouted the great man, “what insolence! He shall pay for it! But—what to do now? Meanwhile the trials are going on, and we shall have an acquittal no doubt. Those law chaps are capable of anything! I know what I shall do—a company of soldiers! I shall have them driven out of the place at the point of the bayonet like so many sea-mews!”
He rushed into his office—forgetting, in his anger, that such Napoleonic measures are not exactly suited to the taste of the Dutch people—to send a note to the officer in command of the troops requesting him to come to him at once. As soon as he had written his precious epistle he bellowed out “Oppas! Oppas!!” in tones so stentorian that all the policemen and the whole staff of servants on the premises came flying to the spot, thinking that some dreadful accident had happened. Even the sentries, who were on duty, heroically brought their muskets to the charge against some imaginary foe; and, in this martial attitude, resolutely stood awaiting the things which might happen. Fair Laurentia was at the time very busy in the pandoppo discussing with her kokkie the mysteries of a fricasseed chicken. She also started up and came flying into the office while, with trembling hand, she sought to adjust her kabaja.
“What is the matter? What is the matter?” she cried.
But, before the Resident had time to reply, and before he had despatched his note to the officer in command of the garrison, the deputy-recorder walked up the steps of the gallery.
The moment he saw him, van Gulpendam knew that he was the bearer of some tidings, and, not able to restrain his impatience, he ran to meet him, impetuously crying out, “What is the matter, Mr. Thomasz?”