The resident opened the tea-caddy and put his nose to it, but not before he had had a peep inside it. “Most delicious,” he exclaimed. “Why, babah, you must send me some of that tea, we cannot get anything worth drinking here, the njonja is always grumbling at her storekeeper.”
“Oh!” cried the Chinaman, “may I beg the Kandjeng toean to accept that little sample as an offering to the njonja?”
“Thank you very much, babah, I am pleased to accept it in her name. I am sure she will be delighted with it.”
The face of the Celestial glowed with satisfaction; he felt that now he had his foot fairly in the stirrup. “I may hope then,” said he, “that the Kandjeng toean will—”
“I can promise you nothing at all, babah,” said the Resident. “I shall see, however, what I can do.” He rose as he spoke—a sign that the interview was at an end; but suddenly a thought seemed to strike him. “Do you know who it is that has charged your son with ill-treating Ardjan?”
“Yes, I do, Kandjeng toean, it is Pak Ardjan, the father of the mate.”
“He is a notorious opium smuggler, is he not? Some day or other he will burn his fingers at it.”
The Chinaman looked up in surprise; but he saw through it.
“At least,” continued van Gulpendam, in the most off-hand way, “that is what I hear from the police, it is no business of mine. I shall see what I can do.”
Babah Lim Yang Bing stepped up to the great man and familiarly held out his hand; Jack was as good as his master now. But just at that moment a handsome big dog—one of Anna’s favourites—came bounding into the pandoppo, and wagging his tail, came jumping up at his master. Van Gulpendam took the animal’s paw and coolly placed it into the babah’s outstretched palm.