“By Jove!” cried Grenits, who was thoroughly interested in the story. As a merchant, such a piece of business was quite in his line, and he pricked his ears as a young race-horse, impatient for the start, dilates his quivering nostrils. “By Jove, I am anxious to hear how they managed that.”
“They managed it very simply, indeed,” continued van Beneden, “though it cost them a mint of money. But when it is a question of gratifying his passions, or of pampering his vanity your Chinaman is by no means stingy.”
“No,” said Grenits, “nor yet when it comes to throwing out a sprat to catch a mackerel.”
“Agreed,” said van Beneden; “but now let me go on, or else we shall not get to the end of the story to-night.”
“Just so,” assented Edward van Rheijn. “Make what haste you can; for I have also my little opium tale to tell—and something else besides that.”
“Very good! August, drive ahead!” said Grenits.
“There were at that time a couple of opium districts which were contiguous to Bengawan, and which lay along the Java sea. Upon these the company Hok Bie at once flung itself, the monopoly not having as yet been granted for them.”
“Yes, of course,” remarked van Rheijn, “having lost the rich district of Bengawan, a couple of rather more meagre ones would form an agreeable compensation.”
“Upon these,” continued van Beneden, not heeding his friend’s interruption, “the company Hok Bie greedily flung itself, and for the opium privilege of those two districts, it paid the sum of 40,000 guilders a month; though it was clear as day that at such a price it must incur a heavy loss.”
“What then could it have been about to offer the money?” asked van Nerekool.