“Your son Lim Ho has treated Ardjan most barbarously.”
“One has nothing but sorrow from one’s children, Kandjeng toean,” said the Chinaman piteously.
“That is all very fine,” said the Resident, “but the chief medical officer has made an official report which is very serious, very serious indeed. I am afraid, I am afraid—”
“Ah, this is a world of suffering and woe, Kandjeng toean,” sighed Lim Yang Bing most dolefully. “Is there no possible means of squaring it with the doctor?”
“Who knows,” said van Gulpendam thoughtfully. “Now if I had the matter in hand, I might perhaps—”
“O pray, Kandjeng toean,” whined the Chinaman. “Do pray help me I beseech you.”
“I shall see,” said van Gulpendam. “A great deal depends upon yourself, babah. You know the penalty for ill-treatment is very severe.”
The Chinaman, in a moment, took the not too delicate hint. He felt in his pocket and drew forth a little silver tea-caddy of most exquisite workmanship. Said he; “That Wyberton I mentioned just now, has brought me some very fine silver ware from Paris. Just look at that fretwork. Do you think van Kempen in the Hague could turn out anything better than that?”
Van Gulpendam took the box. “Aye, aye,” said he, as he examined it, “it is marvellously pretty—very tasteful I must say.”
“I have had the box filled with the choicest Chousong, such tea never reaches Europe, it is reserved for the court at Pekin. Just smell it, Kandjeng toean, is it not delicious?”