“Well,” said the Resident in a mocking tone of voice, “if that be so, then there is an end of the matter, then there is nothing illegal at all in it.”
“Yes, yes,” replied the other, “but the inspector of police insists that it is opium.”
“The deuce he does!” said van Gulpendam.
“Yes,” said the Chinaman, “and he has consulted a couple of Chinese experts, and these, not knowing where the stuff came from, and judging by the smell and the taste have come to the conclusion, and have publicly declared, that it is first class tjandoe, very superior to that which the government supplies us farmers with.”
“You mean to tell me,” cried van Gulpendam in amazement, “that the inspector has told you all that?”
“Yes, Kandjeng toean, and he has done more than that He has placed a sample of it into the hands of a chemist.”
“Well,” said the other. “And what is the chemist’s opinion?”
“He has made an affidavit,” replied the Chinaman, “to the effect that it is real tjandoe containing thirty-two per cent. of morphine.”
“That settles the matter,” said the Resident. “I am sorry for it babah, I cannot help you at all, things must take their course.”
“But,” insinuated the other, “if the Kandjeng toean would—”