"Tabek, Tuan," he said.
As about a third of the male population of the province have at one time or another been immigrant coolies in the Malay Peninsula, it was no uncommon thing to be greeted in that language.
I returned his salutation, and was passing on, when he stopped and said:—
"Does not the Tuan remember me?"
"No, I can't say I do," I answered. "Where did you know me?"
"In Sungei Ujong. Does not the Tuan recollect a gang robbery at Towkay Ah Sing's, when one of the Towkay's coolies was stabbed? The gang was caught, and each man got ten years in jail."
"Yes, of course I remember it," I told him; "but what do you know about it?"
"I was one of the robbers, Tuan. The Tuan saw me every day in the jail for four years. I was put to mat-making."
"Oh, you were, were you?" I said. "Well, I hope you have given up gang robbery now?"
He grinned.