“Twenty-five what?” asked Murowski, again with a puzzled look.
“Twenty-five matas,” repeated van Rheijn.
“Matas!” exclaimed the doctor. “What? eyes?”
The general burst of merriment which followed the question served only to augment the doctor’s surprise.
“Eyes!” laughed van Rheijn, “no, no, nothing of the kind. The Government table of opium weights runs thus: 1 pikoe = 100 katties, 1 kattie = 16 taëls, 1 taël = 10 tji, and 1 tji = 10 matas, and therefore—”
“All right, all right!” cried Murowski, as he joined in the laugh, “now I see it.”
“But, gentlemen,” he continued, “we must look sharp, the sun has set.”
It was nearly a quarter past six and, in the month of August, the sun in Java sets some time before that hour.
Murowski requested Grenits to have the lamps lighted, and when the servant had brought in the lights, the Pole continued:
“Now then, Grenits, get your clothes off!”