“I daresay,” said Laurentia; “but—that horrid murderer—they are sure to find him guilty, are they not?”
“I am not so sure of that, madam.”
“You are not? Why not?”
“No, indeed, I am not. The head djaksa has indeed got up a splendid case for the prosecution, there is not a loop-hole in it; but ever since our Residents and Assistant-Residents have ceased to preside, and the duty has devolved upon professional lawyers, we seem to be be under the influence of a kind of morbid philanthropy—and, it would not at all surprise me if the scoundrel got clean off, especially—”
“Ah yes,” exclaimed Laurentia, “I know what you would say: especially since a European has undertaken the defence of that Javanese scoundrel. It is perfectly unheard-of—monstrous! But, tell me, who pays that counsel, do you know, Mr. Thomasz?”
“Hush! madam, that’s a secret.”
“A secret!” cried Laurentia, “you must keep no secrets from the wife of your Resident. You seem to know all about it. Come tell me what you know.”
“Let us go on the platform then,” said Thomasz with a faint smile, “no one will be able to overhear us up there.”
They walked up the steps, went to the table, and made a pretence of examining the objects displayed upon it. The policeman on guard, of course, took good care not to interfere with the njonja Resident and the assistant registrar of the court.
“Now then,” said Laurentia in an undertone, “you may speak out. Who pays that lawyer?”