Poor Meidema fairly moaned with anguish and dismay.
“Is that true?” he asked again, with faltering tongue.
“I swear it!” was the quiet reply.
“Oh! I must go and get to the bottom of this!” cried the wretched man, as he frantically rushed from the room.
The Chinaman and the Resident watched him with a curious smile.
“Splendidly parried, babah!” cried van Gulpendam admiringly, and then muttering to himself, he said: “I wonder what port that obstinate fool will make for in this storm.”
“Perhaps the Kandjeng toean will now allow me to retire?” asked Lim Yang Bing, with much humility.
“Certainly, babah, certainly, let me not detain you.” And, after the usual compliments had been exchanged, the Chinaman took his leave.
“Deep fellow that Chinaman, devilish deep! Aye, aye, those who dabble in opium must have their wits about them, they must know how to trim their sails!”
Foaming with rage, Meidema got home. He could not wait until his carriage had reached the door; it had scarcely got into the grounds, before he jumped out crying to the coachman, “Wait for me!”