“Oh, you may have been mistaken, Dalima,” said her young mistress.
“Mistaken, Nana! Oh no,” replied the girl. “I could see him clench his fist in anger when he caught sight of me. I feel sure, indeed, he would have put back had he dared; and the few words Ardjan could speak have made me certain it was he.”
“But,” asked Anna, “what could have induced him to torture the poor fellow so unmercifully with the kamadoog?”
“I am sure I don’t know,” said Dalima, colouring; “perhaps it was because Ardjan is my sweetheart; it may be because he rescued me from the Kiem Ping Hin. Oh, dearest Nana,” continued the poor girl, with a flood of tears, “poor dear Ardjan has gone mad, he does nothing but rave.”
“And where is he now?” asked Anna, striving to quiet the sobbing girl.
“He is in the hospital; the police took him there after they had gone to fetch the inspector.”
“The inspector?” cried Anna. “What had he to do with it?”
“The men took some small casks and some tins which they had found, to his house,” was Dalima’s reply.
“Opium!” exclaimed Anna, now really frightened. “Where did they find the horrid stuff?”
“They found it close to the hut where Ardjan was tortured.”