“What may that be, Resident?” asked the other, calmly.
“It has led you to the discovery that the fines, which are to be divided among the finders of the smuggled opium, can more easily be recovered from the wealthy farmer than from the poor Javanese fellow out of which no one can screw anything at all.”
“Resident!” cried Meidema, “such language—”
“Mr. Meidema, pray be calm. My words merely express the impression which your report has made upon my mind.”
“But, Resident, I have nothing whatever to do with the fines. They are no business of mine. I am perfectly acquainted with the law on the subject, and I really do not know what meaning I must attach to your insinuations.”
“Oh, come,” said van Gulpendam scornfully, “do you think I am not up to all the dodges by which the law may be evaded?”
“Resident,” said Meidema, indignantly, “I must really request you to modify your opinion of me. I never have stooped to any of the dodges you think fit to allude to. Not a single penny of the fines, not a single grain of the opium has ever come into my hands. And, allow me to say, that if you do not feel thoroughly convinced that when I say so I speak the bare truth—why then the office you hold compels you to lodge an accusation against me at head quarters.”
“Mr. Meidema,” said van Gulpendam, coolly, “we are, I fear, wandering away from our subject. You tell me that you have been holding an inquiry—do you not? Now pray let me know, whose evidence may you have heard?”
“Whose evidence? Why, in the first place that of the prisoner Ardjan—”
“Of course, he has told you that he has nothing to do with the matter, that I can quite understand. Whom else did you examine?”