“No, no, babah!” said van Gulpendam in an absent kind of way, as if his mind was on something else. “No, babah, I can do nothing for you.”
“I am very sorry to hear it,” said the Chinaman affecting to sigh though the stereotyped smile still hovered on his lips. Then, with ready tact dropping that topic of conversation altogether, he began to talk about indifferent matters, about the gossip of the day, the state of trade, about the ships that had just come in, and so on—when suddenly he said: “Yesterday, you know, the Wyberton of the Rotterdam Lloyd came into harbour. She has brought me a splendid consignment of Havanah cigars. I have had a few of them packed up as samples in cases of a dozen. They are very fine indeed. I happen to have one of these little cases about me. Will the Kandjeng toean do me the favour of having a look at it?”
With these words the wily Chinaman produced a cigar-case, which, as far as outward appearance went, was really very pretty indeed, it was very tastefully embroidered with bunches of red roses.
The Resident took the case, looked at it, admired it, and opened it. It contained twelve cigars, very fine looking Havanahs, which, by their fragrance, were undoubtedly of an excellent brand. But, as the Chinaman went on talking, the Resident looked at the case and its contents in a very abstracted mood, as if he hardly saw it at all, his thoughts were evidently elsewhere. At length, he handed the case back, and said, “Yes, a very pretty thing—it seems a very fine sample.”
“Would the Kandjeng toean condescend to accept them at my hands?” asked the Chinaman with his most winning smile.
“What? you wish me—?”
“Oh sir, it is but the merest trifle. The Kandjeng toean will have the pleasure of smoking a really excellent cigar—I will answer for it—and he will be conferring the greatest favour upon me if he will accept them as a little present.”
Without making any reply, without so much as a sign of consent, the Resident listlessly allowed the gift to drop on a little table that stood by his side, and, just as if nothing whatever had happened, he took up the conversation precisely where it had been broken off.
“When that opium came ashore,” said he, “did anyone happen to be present?”
“No one, Kandjeng toean, but my two spies, Liem King and Than Khan.”