“That will do, Kobus,” the burgomaster interrupted his subordinate; “but that’s not the point.... So the pears have not all been removed? I mean, by this, that the thief has not unlawfully possessed himself of the whole?”
“Why, no, your worship.”
“Now, Kobus, look here.”
Kobus listened respectfully, understanding that the critical moment had now arrived.
“My father, Kobus, was a man of sense, and when he had enjoyed anything, he always used to say, ‘This peach tastes of more.’”
“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Kobus, as though suddenly enlightened,—whereas, in truth, he was more puzzled than ever.
“And, look you, Kobus, the apple can never fall far from the tree. My father was a sensible man; and I, too, say, ‘This peach tastes of more,’ and....”
Here the burgomaster looked through his half-closed eyelids with an air of infinite sagacity, and added, slowly dragging out his words, one by one,—
“... And—that—I suspect—the thief—will—say—too.”
“O-o-oh!” bellowed the veldwachter; “I understand—the thief will want more pears. He will come back, and then we’ll catch him?”