At the name of Lim Ho, and at the mention of the word “ship,” the Resident pricked his ears. The captain of the Matamata, the guardship, had sent in a report in which he had said that the Kiem Ping Hin had been cruising about the coast. That schooner-brig belonged to the opium farmer, who was shrewdly suspected of being in close league with the opium smugglers. Hence the attention of the Resident was so suddenly arrested.
“What ship?” asked van Gulpendam, somewhat hastily.
“How should I know what ship?” replied his wife. “You had better ask that wretched girl.”
“Pardon, madam!” cried Dalima, as she was still cowering in great terror on the floor of the pandoppo.
“Come, Dalima,” said van Gulpendam, with some kindness in his voice, “come now, my girl, just tell us what has really happened to you.”
“Allah, master, they have caught Ardjan. Have pity!”
“They have caught Ardjan, you say,” interrupted van Gulpendam, “who have caught him?”
“Babah Than Khan and babah Liem King,” replied the girl, weeping bitterly.
“Oh ho,” muttered her master to himself, and then turning to the girl again, he said, aloud, “Where did they lay hands on him?”
“In the Moeara Tjatjing, toean,” was the reply.