“Well,” said van Nerekool, “I daresay it is because he has no proofs against the man. In fact, I feel persuaded that it is a mere trumped up case, and knowing that it is so, he wishes to keep the man as long as possible in custody, so that when ultimately he is acquitted, he may have the satisfaction of saying: the fellow has been so many months locked up for my pleasure.”
Mr. Zuidhoorn cast a sharp look at his young colleague. “It may be so,” said he, after a pause, “however, that is not the view I take of the matter.”
“Indeed,” said the other, “what, then, is your opinion?”
“Well,” said Mr. Zuidhoorn, “you know, I suppose, that I have applied for leave of absence on account of my health, and that I am going to Holland?”
“I have heard so,” replied the young man; “but what of that?”
“What of that?” repeated the President. “Don’t you see! If the cases should be taken in the order van Gulpendam directs, why then, we have so many of them that Ardjan cannot possibly be tried before six or eight weeks.”
“Certainly, I see that,” said van Nerekool; “but—”
“You see,” continued the President, “by that time I shall be far enough away.”
“Quite so,” rejoined the other; “but what does that matter? I suppose some other judge will be appointed in your place to preside at Santjoemeh, while you are absent.”
A bitter smile curled the lip of Mr. Zuidhoorn. “Who knows?” said he, “where that substitute may have to come from. Travelling in India is a slow business. If, for instance, Mr. Raabtoon were called from Padang, or Mr. Nellens had to come from Makassar, why, there are two months gone before either of them can be properly installed, and meanwhile—”