“What! do you expect to be paid simply for giving me a bit of information which cost you nothing, and cannot benefit you to keep?” I said, laughing. “However, as you value it so highly, I will give you the price of the brooch if you enable me in any way to trace where it came from.” The fellow, cunning as he was, was for a moment outwitted, and did not suspect the trembling anxiety with which I waited for his account.
“Well, then, you must know that two months ago I sailed from hence in a trading schooner to visit the island of Timor, where I wished to transact some mercantile business with the Portuguese. I can sometimes drive a bargain with them when I fail with the Dutch, who are very keen—too keen to please me. Have you ever been to Timor?”
“No,” I answered, with some little impatience; “no; but go on with your story.”
“I thought not,” he continued, with provoking slowness. “Timor is a large island, and a fine island, but not so large or so fine as Java. The Dutch have possessions in some part of it, as well as the Portuguese, and a good many of my countrymen are found there. It produces, too, a clever race of little horses—very clever little horses.”
“But what has that to do with the brooch?” I exclaimed, foolishly losing all my patience. “Go on with your story without further delay.” The fellow saw by the expression of my countenance that I was really anxious about the matter; and hoping, probably, to get better paid for his information another day, he pretended to remember that he had his goods to sell, and shouldering his bamboo, with his cases hanging at either end of it, off he marched, uttering aloud his cries to attract customers. I called him back; I felt inclined to rush after him—to seize him—to force the information from him; but he would not listen, and he was soon lost among the motley crowd I have described. I felt almost sure that he would come back the next day but in the meantime I was left in a state of the most cruel anxiety. Here was the best clue I had yet met with almost within my grasp, to guide me in my search for Eva and Mrs Clayton, and I was not allowed to reach it. The time had arrived for me to join Mr Scott, who had invited me to accompany him to his country house, about three miles from the town. The road led us past numerous kampongs and country houses, all the way being under lofty trees, which were made to arch overhead, and to afford a most grateful shade.
On our way, I mentioned my meeting with the pedlar.
“Should you know him again?” he asked.
“Among a hundred others,” I replied.
“Oh, then, there will be little difficulty in making him tell the truth,” he observed, with a smile. “If he does not do so of his own accord, I will get the resident to interfere, and he has wonderful methods of making a dumb Chinaman open his mouth. We will see about it the first thing to-morrow; for I agree with you, that the fellow’s information may be of great value.”
So it was arranged, and my mind was somewhat tranquillised. My new friend’s residence was like most country houses built by the Dutch in the island—long and low, and consisting only of one storey. In the centre was the chief room, of good size, opening both in front and behind, by two large door-ways, into spacious verandahs, as large as the room itself, and supported by pillars. In each of the wings were three good bedrooms. It stood in an enclosure of about an acre, with coach-house, stables, and servants’ houses and offices. The floors were formed of tiles, and in the principal room a cane matting was used. As it grew dusk, several people came in, some in carriages, and some on foot, and we had a good deal of amusing conversation, while cigars were smoked, and coffee, wine, and liqueurs were handed round. The Javanese were described as an excellent and faithful race of people, patient, good-tempered, faithful, and very handy and ingenious. A man who is a carpenter one day, will turn a blacksmith next, or from a farmer will speedily become a sailor; and a gentleman told me of a servant who, after having lived with him many years, begged to be allowed to go to sea, giving as his only reason, that he was tired of seeing the same faces every day. I partook of a curious fruit, of which the natives are very fond, called the Durinan. It required some resolution to overcome my repugnance to the scent, which is most powerful. The flavour is very peculiar; and I can best describe it as like rich custard and boiled onions mixed together.