“Oh, it was some case of coffee-stealing, sir, some old woman—”
“Oh yes, all right, go on!”
“Yes,” continued the deputy-recorder, “Mr. Zuidhoorn might well look—and he did open his eyes uncommonly wide, for the chief djaksa, who, a moment or two before, was sitting by his side close to him,—he too had vanished.”
“Vanished?” Mr. van Gulpendam burst out laughing. “I can picture to myself Mr. Zuidhoorn’s face!” he cried. “Mr. Thomasz, you are a capital story-teller. Do go on—run off the log-line.”
The deputy-recorder continued:
“They looked high and low for the djaksa; but he could not be found. So one of the vice-djaksas had to be summoned. It was a curious thing however, that, although a few minutes before two or three were present in the pandoppo, they now had the greatest trouble to lay hands on a single one.”
“Oh!” interrupted van Gulpendam, “they managed to get one in tow at last?”
“Yes, Resident.”
“What a pity!” The exclamation escaped from the Resident’s lips in spite of himself.
“There was no harm done, however,” continued Mr. Thomasz.