Singomengolo stood scratching his ear. He was, indeed, in a most awkward predicament.
“What a rage the Kandjeng toean Resident will be in,” muttered he. But he did not mind him much. He would bluster no doubt a good deal and bark; but he would take good care not to bite.
But, what would Babah Lim Yang Bing think of it? might he not look with suspicion upon all this fruitless zeal.
And then the newspapers! What if they began to talk—and talk those confounded papers would there could be no doubt about it.
And the judges! What if they should take it up? They must take it up of course. Pak Ardjan had violently, and with arms in his hand, resisted the police—the opium police. And that was a crime which could not be hushed up. That was one of the offences which the Dutchmen always punished with the greatest severity. Yes, but then the fact would come out that there had been a visitation, a pretty severe visitation, and that nothing had been found. And then other matters might, and would probably, leak out. Aye, they had handled the little girls a little too brutally. And those judges were such an inquisitive lot, they were sure to get to the bottom of it all. He was in an awkward plight. Oh! had he but found the opium! Or better still, had he but taken his usual precautions!
“And yet,” muttered he, as his hawk-like eye darted round the little hut, “I had such very precise instructions. I was to wait until Pak Ardjan had returned from the ravine, then—But would it not have been much wiser to surprise him in the ravine?—No, no—that would never have done—he might have sworn that he had found the opium there by chance, and those judges are so lenient, they will believe anything, and they never convict if there is the possibility of a doubt. No, no, the opium must—it shall—be found in Pak Ardjan’s own possession, that only will be conclusive evidence of guilt. But—I cannot find it—Eh! eh!” he exclaimed, “what have we here?” With one bound Singomengolo reached the corner where a slight bulge in the roof seemed to look as if it had quite lately been disturbed. The edges of the nipah-leaves did not look quite so dark in that spot as the others which had been exposed to the smoke. The bandoelan thrust his hand into the roof, he felt about for a few moments, and then, he drew forth two small parcels. These he hastily unwrapped and uttered a cry of triumph. It was the opium which Pak Ardjan had tried to hide just before his house was searched. “You lie, you scoundrel!” roared he, to the wretched Javanese, as he dealt him a blow in the face with the back of his hand, which made the blood to spurt from his lips.
But the latter replied not a word.
When the captured opium had been duly examined by the witnesses, the detected criminal was flung into a filthy sedan-chair carried by some natives who had been pressed for that service. Thus under proper escort and guard, Pak Ardjan was conveyed to Santjoemeh, and lodged in the jail.
A few days later Resident van Gulpendam laid a formal charge against Pak Ardjan before the court at Santjoemeh. He was accused of opium-smuggling, and of having violently, and with arms in his hands, resisted the police in the execution of their duty; one of the officers having received serious wounds in the affray.
Mr. Zuidhoorn, the President, read over the charge, and as he read he could not conceal a bitter smile. “It is disgusting,” muttered he, “disgusting!”