“How so? Go on with your tale.”
“Well, sir, when Mr. Zuidhoorn told the vice-djaksa that he called upon him to fill the place of the absent official, the poor fellow most suddenly was seized with a violent fit of colic!”
“A fit of colic!” laughed van Gulpendam. “What fun, what fun!”
“Yes, and so severe was the poor fellow’s attack that he made the most extraordinary grimaces—in fact it literally doubled him up.”
“Oh how rich—how very rich!” cried van Gulpendam still laughing immoderately.
“And, at length—with both hands to his stomach—was compelled to rush out of the room.”
“With both hands!” shouted van Gulpendam, “come anchor, anchor! Thomasz, you will be the death of me.”
The deputy-recorder looked around with much gravity—never before in all his official career had he had such success as a low comedian, and, thinking he might venture further, he resumed:
“Aye—but—Resident, that was not the funniest part of it.”
“Not? well give way—full speed ahead!”