“You are hard, you are pitiless!” cried the young man in despair, as he rushed from the house. For a couple of days longer he stayed at Karang Anjer, at the house of the regent of that dessa who entertained him with the utmost hospitality.
He cross-examined his host. “Yes—he knew nonna Anna well. She had frequently, in company with the njonja, called upon his wife; but she had gone away without letting anyone know where she intended to go to. His wife and he thought that she had gone back to Santjoemeh.”
The unhappy lover kept wandering about the neighbourhood, making inquiries everywhere. He tried to obtain some clue from the loerahs, from the overseer, from the postmasters round about; but nowhere—nowhere—could he obtain the slightest information. Either these people really knew nothing, or else they were obeying orders and would tell him nothing. This seemed to van Nerekool most likely, as he heard at a certain posting station that no one could tell where the young lady had gone. During his wanderings he sat down at many a guard house, and again and again he put the same question: “Could anyone tell him where to look for the young European lady?” But it was only to receive the same answer over and over again, “No, sir.”
In his distress and perplexity, he at length left Karang Anjer and went to Tjilatjap, for he wanted to find out whether there was any truth in the report which van Gulpendam had so assiduously circulated, namely that his daughter had gone to Europe. Very luckily for him the regent of Karang Anjer possessed a travelling carriage which he placed at the disposal of his guest. This was a most fortunate thing for van Nerekool; for he would otherwise have had to travel the fifty-two miles to the harbour on horseback, and, in his desponding frame of mind, the fatigue of so long a journey might have had the most serious effect upon his health. The road from Karang Anjer to Tjilatjap lies on one continuous plain which is but very little above the sea-level, while the hills which rise close to the Indian Ocean run north and south, thus preventing the free circulation of land and sea breezes and rendering the atmosphere exceedingly oppressive and stifling.
When van Nerekool reached the harbour, he found that there also he could obtain no tidings. Neither the assistant resident of that place, nor the harbour-master nor any of the agents of the steam Navigation Company—nor, in fact any of the other shipping agents, knew anything about the departure of a young girl to Australia or to any other country. For months past no strange ship had sailed from that port; and the boats of the India Navigation Company which run to Australia, do not go along the South coast of Java but get into the Indian Ocean by the Bali straits. It was evident, therefore, that van Gulpendam’s tale of two ladies under whose escort Anna travelled to Europe, was a merely trumped-up story.
Weary and sick at heart, van Nerekool was forced to return to Wonosobo by way of Bandjar Negara. There he stayed for a little while longer, and when, in that magnificent climate, he had almost entirely regained his health and strength, he went back to Santjoemeh where he found his friends, August van Beneden, Leendert Grashuis, Theodoor Grenits and Edward van Rheijn anxiously waiting to welcome him home.
“Well?” was the question of all of them as soon as they had made inquiries after their friend’s health, “well?”
The question alluded of course to his inquiries, for the anxiety and the efforts of van Nerekool had remained no secret among them.
“Nothing!” replied van Nerekool fetching a deep sigh, “I have found out nothing, not even the faintest clue.”
“No more have I,” added Grenits.