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I. AT MOEARA TJATJING

It was a terrible night in February 188-.

A violent storm from the north-west was raging along the northern coast of Java. The wind howled and roared as though a legion of fiends were holding Sabbath in the black mass of clouds which were driving along.

The waves of the Java sea were running mountain high, and came curling into the beach in monstrous billows topped with mighty crests of dazzling foam. These crests were brightly phosphorescent, and each breaker, as it came rolling in, for an instant shed a pale fantastic shower of sparks upon the black seething waters, leaving, the next instant, the blackness darker than before. The sea-coast on which our story opens formed here, as in so many other places in Java, an extensive marsh, the slimy clay of which the influence of the tropical sun had clothed with a most curious kind of vegetation.

Had it been day, the eye, as far as it could reach, would have rested upon thousands upon thousands of tree-tops, closely packed together, and rising about thirty feet from the soil. The stems of these trees did not reach the ground, but rested on knotty roots, which, like arches, grew out of the earth. These roots were divided, branching out in all directions, so that the trees might be likened to many-footed creatures, the supports or legs of each of which crossed and recrossed with those of its neighbour. Thus looking along the ground might be seen a kind of tangled network under a thick canopy of green, and that network again was entwined with gigantic creepers, hanging in festoons from the singular archways and climbing upwards into the tops of the trees.

By daylight, between those myriads of twisted roots forming, as it were, a gigantic labyrinth, there might have been seen a swarming mass of living things, unsightly and loathsome, which would have filled the beholder with wonder and disgust.

There, among thousands of other living beings, lay the sluggish alligator glaring at its prey with fixed and stony eye. There countless tortoises and "Mimis" were crawling and darting about in quest of food. There swarmed monstrous crabs and shrimps of all kinds, varying in size from that of the largest lobster to the almost microscopical sea-spider. All these in millions were wriggling in the filthy ooze which was formed of the detritus of this singular mangrove forest. In the mud which clung about the roots, these hideous creatures lived and teemed, not perhaps in a state of perfect concord, yet maintaining an armed kind of peace which did not prevent them from becoming allies whenever some unhappy victim, whose luckless star had cast upon that shore, had to be overpowered.

Close by the narrow strip of land, where, not only in storms but in all weathers, land and water seemed to strive for the mastery, there stood a small hut hidden away completely among a clump of "Saoe" trees. These trees grew there, the only ones of their kind amidst the gloomy forest of mangrove.

Surrounded by the dense foliage as by an impenetrable wall, the hut was completely invisible from the land. On the other side it commanded a wide view of the sea; but even there it was screened from observation by its position among the leaves.

We called it a hut,--it was, indeed, little more than a large sentry box, and it, most appropriately, bore the name of "djaga monjet" or monkey-perch. It was put together in a very primitive fashion, and was covered with "Kadjang" mats and "attaps," both of these rough building materials obtained from the Nipah palm.

The "djaga monjet" was built in the morass on piles which raised it some considerable distance from the ground. Thus the waves which now and then threatened to swallow up the fore-shore altogether, could freely wash about under it, and break and divide against the firmly driven stakes. The trunk of a tree, with some rough steps clumsily cut into it, served as a ladder and gave access to the hut which, at the time this tale begins, was wrapped in the deepest darkness, but which yet was not tenantless.

Two voices might have been heard issuing from the doorway. The speakers fancied they were talking in a confidential whisper; but the blustering of the storm had gradually led them on to raise their voices, so that now they were yelling at each other rather than conversing.

That, however, was of very little consequence. At such an hour, and in such fearful weather, no human being would have dreamed of prowling about there. The most zealous coastguard's man would have declined that duty.

The men in the hut were talking in Malay, but they might, without difficulty, have been recognised for Chinamen. Their guttural pronunciation, the difficulty with which they sounded the letter "r," which with them indeed was spoken as "l," and a certain lisping, weakly, altogether most unpleasant accent, put the matter beyond doubt.

Yes, they were two Chinamen who, sitting in that little watch-house, were eagerly, in the pitch dark night, scanning the angry sea before them.

"No," said one of them, after a considerable interval of silence--"No, there is nothing whatever to be seen. In such weather, it would be simply tempting fate. You may be quite sure that the Kiem Ping Hin is snugly lying at anchor at Poeloe Karabab. She would never think of starting in such a storm."

"You may be right," replied the other, "but the master's orders were most positive. We are posted here on purpose to help the men of the Kiem Ping Hin to get their cargo safe ashore."

"That is true enough, Than Khan, and we shall get our pay, I daresay; but, for all that, you cannot deny that she cannot possibly come in to-night. Just hark how the wind howls, hear how the breakers roar--our perch is shaking like a reed. How would you like to be out on such a night as this?"

"I," cried Than Khan, "not for all the money in the world. But still we know the old Arab Awal Boep Said--he is a tough old sea-dog, and no weather will--"

"Look out!" cried the other; "there, just there! You see that big curling wave yonder! Look, you can just see it by the light of the foam. Yes, by Kong! A 'djoekoeng!'"

"You are right, Liem King," replied Than Khan, "it is a 'djoekoeng'" (a boat made of a hollowed tree-stem). "There were two persons in her, both Javanese--I fancied a man and a woman."

"Yes," said Liem King; "the man was rowing hard, the woman seemed frightened, she had her hands up to her face."

"The 'djoekoeng,'" shouted Than Khan, "was heading for the shore; but she can never get through the breakers."

"I am not so sure of that," replied Liem King. "She was making straight for Moeara Tjatjing, if she can only keep that course, she may pull through."

"Why," said Than Khan, "in such a sea as this, no boat can live, she must be swamped. A rare feast for the boajas, eh?"

"That 'djoekoeng,'" said Liem King, "will get through safe enough. I made her out to be a surf boat, and you know it takes a good deal to upset them."

"No doubt," said Than Khan, "for all that, I am glad enough I am not in her."

"Look out," shouted the other. "Look, there she is again, yes, she is making for the Moeara. If she can get behind the 'bow-nets' she is safe enough."

"If she can get under the lee of the bow-nets, perhaps, but, but--"

"Another boat," exclaimed Liem King. "There are white men in her."

The words were no sooner uttered than two, three, four sharp reports were heard. They were rifle-shots fired from the boat, upon the occupants of the "djoekoeng." With what result who could tell? For a single instant only, the faint gleam of some gigantic breaker had revealed the two boats to the pair of spies. The next moment all was deep darkness again, and, gaze as intently as they would, not even their sharp eyes could discover anything further.

Thus a quarter of an hour passed away, when suddenly Than Khan exclaimed, "A steamer!"

Sure enough, far out at sea, shone the well-known green and red lights, and, high above them, the white light at the mast-head.

"The guard-ship!" cried Liem King.

"No doubt of it," said the other, "it must be the Matamata. Well, all I can say is that if the Kiem Ping Hin has left her anchorage she is not showing any lights; she has got away safe enough by this time."

"Come, I think we may be off home to the Kampong; no smugglers will come ashore to-night, you may be sure."

For a while longer did the two Celestials keep watching the steamer's movements. First she showed her three lights plainly enough, she was therefore making straight for the land. After a time, however, all of a sudden, her green light disappeared, leaving for a while the red light only visible. Presently that also went out and only the white top-mast light remained visible, and, as it seemed stationary, our Chinamen concluded that the steamer had anchored or was perhaps moving with her head to the wind.

Said Than Khan at length, "It is no use staying here; while that cursed Matamata is about they will not be able to get anything ashore. Come, let us be going."

"All right," replied Liem King; "but I vote we first go and have a look at the Tjatjing, we may just possibly get to know something about the 'djoekoeng.'"

So our two worthies clambered down the rough log which, as we have shown, stood as a ladder against the hut; the wind howling, meanwhile, as furiously as ever.

In a few steps they came upon a kind of pathway for which they had to grope with their feet in the deep darkness. They found it; and as every now and then a wave would come washing over it, the two Chinamen had to splash on in the brine. That, however, did not greatly interfere with their progress. They knew the road well, and even had the weather been rougher, they would have got along without much hesitation. They had, in fact, not very far to go. In a few minutes they reached the small river Tjatjing which close by emptied itself into the Java Sea.

At the spot where the Chinamen came upon the stream it made a kind of bend or elbow as if, just before losing itself in the ocean, it had thought better of it and was trying to retrace its course. At that bend the mangrove roots retired a little from the shore, leaving a pretty wide open space from which the prospect over the river would have been quite clear; but the darkness was so intense that even Than Khan's ferret eyes could make out nothing.

"If the 'djoekoeng' has reached the Moeara at all," roared Than Khan in the ear of his companion, "she must have come ashore here. They cannot possibly have got her further up the Tjatjing, there is not water enough and the marsh-weed completely chokes it up."

"Hush," said Liem King; "I hear something."

He was right. In spite of the awful noise of the tempest a low moaning sound could just be heard.

Both pricked their ears, took their bearings; and softly, with stealthy tread they sneaked forward in the direction of the sound. Presently, they almost stumbled over a boat which lay on the beach with its stern half under water.

"The 'djoekoeng,'" muttered Than Khan.

Directed by the moaning sound they groped along the boat which was but a hollowed tree. Its bamboo sail-wings were lying close by smashed all to pieces by the wind and water; and a few steps further on they discovered two human beings lying prostrate in the rank grass.

"Who is there?" called Liem King as he cautiously drew nearer.

"It is I," replied a very feeble voice in answer to the challenge.

"I? who is I?" asked the Chinaman.

"I, Ardjan," was the answer.

"What?" cried Liem King, "Ardjan of the Kiem Ping Hin."

A faint cry at these words issued from the lips of one of the castaways.

"Silence," whispered the other Chinaman.

Both then bent forward over the figure which had given the name of Ardjan; but in that thick darkness it was impossible to distinguish anything.

One of them pulled a dark lantern out of his pocket, struck a match and, with some trouble, managed to procure a light. As soon as he had recognised the features he cried out:

"By ----! it is Ardjan! What in the world are you doing here?"

"I have fallen overboard," was the reply.

"Indeed you have? with that 'djoekoeng?'" sneered Liem King.

"I found her in the water as I was swimming about," was the reply.

"And that woman?" continued Liem King; "how about her? Did you pick her up also floating about? Who is she?"

"She is Moenah, my sister," faintly said Ardjan.

"Ah! your sister," exclaimed Than Khan with a low, dirty laugh. "I daresay she also managed to tumble overboard?"

With these words he threw the light of the lantern full on the face of the so-called sister. The uncertain gleam revealed the well-shaped form of a beautiful Javanese maiden of sixteen who, in her confusion, strove to conceal her face under a veil, which, like all the rest of her clothing, was dripping wet.

"Hallo!" cried Than Khan as he roughly tore the veil from the girl's face, "what have we here? Dalima! the little 'baboe' of His Excellency the Resident."

At these words the maiden cowered down in the most abject terror. The two Chinamen exchanged a few hasty words in whispers in which the name Lim Ho could be distinguished. That name seemed to have an extraordinary effect upon the poor girl. When she heard it her face became the very picture of terror.

This Lim Ho was one of the sons of the great opium farmer at Santjoemeh and the man was madly in love with the poor little Javanese girl. He had offered her large sums of money, he had tempted her with costly gifts, but all in vain. He had addressed himself to her father, a poor peasant in the "dessa" of Kaligaweh close by the principal township, again without success. Then the wretch had sworn that, at any price, the girl should be his, even if to possess her he might have to commit a crime. He was a kind of scoundrel who would stick at nothing.

At the mention of that hateful name the girl recoiled and shrunk together in terror. She knew the man, and now she also knew the two rascals into whose power she had thus been thrown.

The two Chinamen kept on whispering to each other; they spoke in Chinese of which language neither Ardjan nor Dalima knew a single word.

Before, however, the former had time to collect his thoughts or his energies, the scoundrels were upon him. They tied up his hands and feet with a thin rope which Liem King drew out of the capacious pocket of his baggy trousers. Before he had time to defend himself Ardjan found himself helpless, tied up in the shape of a hoop. But even had there been time to resist, the poor fellow could have done nothing. He was quite unarmed, he had not had time even to snatch up his dagger-knife, and the frightful exertion of rowing the "djoekoeng" through the breakers had so completely fagged him out, that, when the men came upon him, he was lying panting for breath on the beach and quite incapable of further exertion. The low moaning sound which had guided the Chinamen to him was the sound of his gasping and panting for breath as he lay on the shore.

Having firmly secured Ardjan, the Chinamen took hold of Dalima and pinioned her also, ordering her to keep perfectly quiet and threatening to kill her should she disobey.

It was a good thing for Dalima that her captors could not see the expression on her face as they uttered their threatening warning. There passed over the girl's features an expression of contempt which would have given them food for reflection; and might have induced them to make quite sure of their fair prisoner. But of this they saw nothing, and, thinking the girl safe enough, they turned to her companion. His arms were tied behind him and fastened to his feet which had also been tightly bound. Liem King now took up a stout bamboo stick which had formed part of the rigging of the surf boat, and having passed it under Ardjan's arms they each took hold of one end of the bamboo, and put it on their shoulders, and then, with their living burden thus helplessly dangling between them they ran at a slow trot up the path, along which, a few minutes before, they had groped their way. At every jolt the poor Javanese uttered a cry of anguish. It was torture indeed that they made Ardjan endure. The whole weight of his body, bent in the most constrained attitude, was bearing upon his arms, and the whippy motion of the pliable stick made every movement almost unendurable as the Chinamen jogged slowly along. The bones of the arms upon which, as a sack, the entire body was hanging seemed at every moment about to snap, and the limbs felt as if every jog must wrench them from their sockets.

But neither Liem King nor Than Khan paid the slightest heed to Ardjan's shrieks, they kept quietly trotting along. In vain did the wretched man entreat them to kill him and so put him out of the misery he was enduring. In vain, seeing his prayers unheeded, did he hurl the most offensive epithets at the heads of his tormentors, hoping thus to provoke them to rage and goad them on to take summary vengeance. To all Ardjan's entreaties and insults, the Chinamen replied only with derisive laughter, and the "Aso tjina" (Chinese dog) repeated again and again, Than Khan, who had one hand free, repaid with a tremendous blow with his fist, the effect of which was only to increase the agony of the sufferer.

In a few minutes, however, which to Ardjan seemed an age of torture, the "djaga monjet" was reached. The ropes which tied Ardjan's feet were then untied, leaving his arms only closely pinioned. The Chinamen then ordered him to climb up the rough steps and enforced their command by pricking him with the points of their daggers. The Javanese knew well that the faintest show of resistance might cost him his life, and now that the torture of dangling on the bamboo was no longer felt, he began to take a more cheerful view of life. So he passively did as he was told, and in a few moments he was at the top and inside the hut. There the two brutes once again tied him up securely, and, in order to make even an effort of flight impossible, they fastened his hands tightly on his chest and forced the bamboo cane through the bend of the elbows which were sticking out behind his back. Thus trussed up, as it were, the least movement on the part of Ardjan occasioned the most unbearable pain to his bruised and swollen limbs. Then, they laid him down on his back on the floor of the hut, and to make assurance doubly sure, they lashed him to one of the principal posts of the small building.

Having made all safe, the Chinamen went off to fetch Dalima. What they intended to do with the girl was a matter of dispute between them. Liem King proposed that they should settle by a cast of the dice which of them should possess her; but Than Khan, who was of a more practical and covetous turn of mind, explained to his companion that a good round sum of money might be got out of the son of the rich opium farmer if they delivered her into his hands. They were still debating the question when they reached the Tjatjing, where they had left their victim lying on the grass. There they soon found out that they need not have argued the matter at all; for though they searched the whole place with the utmost minuteness, they could find no trace of Dalima. Yes, they did find a trace; for behind a clump of undergrowth close to the spot where they had left the girl, they discovered the coil of rope with which they had bound her. She had, evidently, somehow or other found means to get her wrists to her mouth, and had succeeded in gnawing through the cords. Once her hands were free it was mere child's play to untie her feet and legs.

"Devil take her!" exclaimed Liem King, "that tit-bit is lost to us."

"Indeed she is," sighed Than Khan; "we have allowed a nice little sum to slip through our fingers. Lim Ho would have paid well for her."

"Now, I think," said Liem King, "the best thing will be not to breathe a word about her to the Company."

"Oh, of course, not a single word," assented Than Khan; "now that she has got away that would be most dangerous."

"But what," asked the other, "had we better do now with Ardjan? I think we had better let him go, too. He is sure to let out all about Dalima."

"No fear," rejoined Than Khan, "he won't dare to do that. Should he utter a single word about the girl Lim Ho would have him clubbed to death."

"Well," said Liem King, pensively, "for all that I think the safest plan is to let him go."

"H'm," said the other, "why so? You know as well as I do that he ought to be on board the Kiem Ping Hin. Now, how on earth did he manage to get here in that 'djoekoeng?' Take my word for it, there is some mystery about that. Very likely it may be important to the Company to get to the bottom of that. Ah," added he, with a deep sigh of disappointment, "I only wish we had tied up that wretched girl a little more securely."

"Oh, no, don't say so!" cried Liem King, "you would have bruised those darling little wrists and dainty ankles."

"Bah!" cried Than Khan. "What nonsense, I wish we had her here; now she is off. Where can she have got to?"

"Yes," replied Liem King, "that is the question, where to look for her. But come along, let us hurry back or else we may find the other bird flown too. There is something, you know, that tells me we have made a good catch in him."

So the two rascals got back to the hut, and found Ardjan lying there quietly enough, just as they left him. He had not been able to stir hand or foot. As soon as he saw that the Chinamen came back alone his eye brightened.

"Where is Dalima?" he exclaimed, most anxiously.

The Chinamen made no answer.

"Has she got away?" he asked again.

Than Khan shook his head. It was enough, there was something so doleful in that gesture that Ardjan did not, for a moment, doubt. Dalima had escaped. Now he could breathe more freely. If only he had been equally fortunate. He had tried all he could to get rid of these accursed ropes; but, alas! his arms hurt him so frightfully he thought they were broken, and he had to give up the attempt in despair. Where might the dear girl be now? He felt but little anxiety on that score. She had managed, perhaps, to run to Kaligaweh, where her parents lived--the distance was not great--she must, by this time, be close to the dessa. Perhaps, she had taken the way to Santjoemeh, where lived the family of the Resident, as she was in his service as nurse. In that case, she would have a long journey before her, and she could not reach it before daybreak. If only then she could at once tell her whole story--then, yes, who knows, then he might even yet be rescued.

But all such reflections were roughly interrupted by Liem King, who asked him, "Where did you come from on so wild a night as this?"

"I?" said Ardjan, "why, I have come from Santjoemeh, to be sure. I intended to take Dalima to her father at Kaligaweh. The nor'-wester drove us out to sea, I rowed with might and main to get to the Moeara Tjatjing."

"What do you mean?" grinned Than Khan. "What business had you at the Moeara? Oh, now I see, you wanted, no doubt, to pay us a visit here! That is it--is it not?"

Ardjan trembled inwardly; but he replied calmly enough:

"I could not get as far as Sepoetran, and found myself drifting out to sea, so I was compelled to make for the nearest land."

"But they have been after you," exclaimed Than Khan. "You have been fired at."

"So I have," said Ardjan. "It must have been a boat of that wretched Matamata, they must have taken me for a smuggler."

"Have you any stuff with you?" asked Than Khan. There was no reply to that question. Had these Chinamen known in what position he really was, they never would have asked him such a question as that.

"But," continued Liem King, "you are mate of the Kiem Ping Hin. How is it you are not on board of her?"

For a moment the Javanese did not know what to answer, then he said:

"Captain Awal Boep Said has given me leave to spend two days on shore."

"You go and tell your grandmother that tale, it won't do for us. What! just at this time, when there is so much work on hand?" cried Than Khan.

"Well," said Ardjan, "it is true, nevertheless."

"Very good," replied Than Khan, "the Company will soon get to know all about that."

After these words there was silence.

The Chinamen wrapped themselves up in a kind of rug or mat, and sat down cross-legged on the floor, with their heads bent forwards on their breast, and thus they seemed to be falling into a doze. Ardjan, still fastened up in the most painful way to the bamboo stick, had to lie on his back. It was pitch dark in the hut; the door and the shutters were closed to exclude, as much as possible, the cold morning air. But, when every now and then the Javanese turned his head to the right or left, he could, through the chinks of the lath floor, see that day was breaking. A greyish light began to appear under the hut, and thus Ardjan could see the filthy mud in which a number of crawling things, such as sea-eels, marsh-snakes, iguanas, and water-lizards were swarming. They were in quest of the miscellaneous offal which they were wont to find under the "djaga monjet."

For a while all was quiet, when suddenly the report of a gun shook the hut. The sound startled both the Chinamen to their feet. It was evidently a signal. Than Khan rushed to the door, and threw it open. It was then broad daylight, the sun was just about to rise, and was bathing the eastern horizon in a flood of the richest purple.

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II. IN THE DJAGA MONJET

For a moment or two, Than Khan stood rubbing his eyes, the sudden glare of light almost blinded him after the darkness of the hut. As soon as he became somewhat accustomed to the morning light, he perceived that a great change had taken place in nature. The wind which had been howling so dismally all night long had now fallen considerably, and the thick black clouds were breaking up, while patches of clear blue sky were becoming visible on all sides. The eastern horizon was perfectly cloudless, and the sun rising in full glory was bathing all he touched in the purest gold. It was a magnificent spectacle, certainly, that morning of calm after the night of storm; but neither Than Khan nor his companion seemed to pay the slightest heed to these beauties of nature. The two Celestials were not troubling their minds about the sun; they were eagerly scanning the surface of the sea, and that not for the purpose of admiring the stately roll of the long breakers; they were looking out for something quite different.

Yonder, at a considerable distance from the shore, they could just see a ship dancing on the waves. They could make her out with the naked eye to be a schooner-brig, which, under shortened sail, was lying close to the wind, and was evidently purposely keeping away from the land. She had some kind of signal flying; but what it was they could not make out. Liem King then produced a ship's telescope, which was kept stowed away under the "attaps" in a corner of the roof, and which had long since lost its original colour, being thickly covered with a coating of dirt and dust.

The Chinaman handled the glass as one who was familiar with its use, and, after looking for awhile, he turned to his mate, and said: "The letters T.F.N.W. on a red ground. That must be the Kiem Ping Hin. She ought to have come in last night, and--"

"She is trying to anchor, I suppose," said Than Khan.

"No, she is not," replied Liem King; "she is only trying to keep out of the smuggling radius."

"Well," cried Than Khan, "that's cool enough anyhow. Why! only last night we had the Matamata here."

"Why," said the other, "she is safe enough. Where she is now lying the steamer could not get at her, and, what's more, she is flying the British ensign. Under those colours no one will dare to meddle with her. The Dutch are frightened to death of the English."

After looking through his glass at the schooner for a few moments longer Liem King exclaimed: "They are lowering the boat!"

"Then one of us," said Than Khan, "will have to run to the landing place at the Tjatjing."

"Very well, you go," said Liem King.

"No, you," said the other.

"Why should we not both go together?" asked Liem King.

"Certainly not," rejoined Than Khan. "Would you," he asked as he pointed to Ardjan, "leave this fellow here alone and unwatched?"

"Perhaps you are right," assented the other, "let us toss up for it."

"All right," replied Than Khan, "I don't mind."

One of them then produced some white pebbles about the size of beans among which there were a few black ones. With a certain amount of dexterity he flung them upon a wooden board which seemed made for the purpose. Liem King counted the throw to see how many black ones were lying together.

It was Than Khan's turn next.

"I have won," he exclaimed. "You see I have seven black together. You had but five."

"Very good," said Liem King. "I shall go."

"But mind," said the other, "not a word about Dalima!"

"You trust me," was the answer.

A strange scornful smile passed over Ardjan's features.

Than Khan sat down cross-legged in the doorway of the hut, placing himself in such a manner that while he had a clear view of the bay before him, he could at the same time watch every movement Ardjan might attempt to make.

Not a single action on board the schooner escaped the Chinaman's watchful eye.

He saw the smuggler lower her boat, he then saw five or six Chinese get into her. The little craft, rowed by a Javanese crew, then put off and got under weigh. It soon got into the seething breakers and as Than Khan watched the tremendous exertions of the rowers, he could not help admiring the cool steady way in which the helmsman kept her head firmly to the waves.

"That must be Lim Ho himself," he muttered.

Ardjan shuddered at the mention of that name. "Lim Ho!" he exclaimed, his voice betraying his terror.

"Yes," said Than Khan, "in a few minutes they will all be here."

Just then the boat was getting into the Moeara. He was right, the light craft manned by eight stout rowers was flying through the water and had got clear of the dangerous surf.

Once under the lee of the bow-nets and fairly in the bay, the boat was in comparatively smooth water and darted into the mouth of the Tjatjing.

Liem King stood at the landing place waiting to receive his countrymen and he began at once to lead the way to the little watch-house.

The five Chinamen had no sooner stepped ashore than the Javanese crew began to make all possible haste to unload the boat.

A number of small tins and barrels lay piled up in the bottom and these they brought to land and most carefully stowed away, hiding them in the sand under the bushes which grew hard by.

"Jolly stuff that black butter," said one of the fellows, as he pointed to the barrels.

The small casks looked as if they had just come out of some Dutch farmhouse. They were all sealed with green wax and bore the well-known stamp of Van der Leeuw.

"I wish I could get hold of a couple of taël of that butter," said another of the crew with a laugh.

"Well," said another, "you can be off presently to the opium den of Babah Tjoa Tjong Ling and there you can get as much as you like of it. You will find it easy enough to get rid of your hardly earned wages."

In a few minutes all the tins and barrels were safely stowed away and then the Javanese crew followed the steps of their Chinese masters to the "djaga monjet."

When the five Chinamen had entered the little hut, the examination of Ardjan, who was still lying on the floor in the same painful position, was commenced at once.

On the way to the hut Liem King had told his master as much as he deemed prudent about Ardjan's capture; but not a word did he breathe about Dalima.

Lim Ho listened with attention to his report. This Lim Ho was a tall, powerfully-built Chinaman. He was the chief of that band of smugglers, about five-and-twenty years of age. He had a wan yellow complexion, and a false, evil look in his slanting eyes.

When he heard it was Ardjan, the mate, who had been caught, he could not repress a smile of satisfaction.

As soon as Liem King had made his report, he asked in a tone of assumed indifference:

"Was the fellow alone when you came upon him?"

"Oh yes, quite alone," readily replied Liem King.

Lim Ho showed that he was greatly disappointed at the news.

"He came ashore in a 'djoekoeng,' I think you told me?" he asked.

"He did, sir," replied Liem King.

"Could the 'djoekoeng' have turned over at sea?" continued Lim Ho.

"Very likely," replied the wily Chinaman.

"When Than Khan and myself found the 'djoekoeng,'" he continued, "Ardjan was lying exhausted and wet through on the beach--he looked as if he had been washing about in the water, and the bamboos of the rigging were smashed to pieces."

"All right," said Lim Ho superciliously, "we shall hear all about that presently."

As he entered the hut, he did not deign so much as to cast a look at Ardjan; but abruptly asked him:

"What made you run away?"

"I was homesick," was the reply, "I was heartily sick of the ship and wanted to get back to the 'dessa.'"

"Indeed!" sneered Lim Ho. "And that was the reason, I suppose, why you took Dalima with you?"

Ardjan kept silence; Liem King and Than Khan were growing as pale as death.

"Where was the girl drowned?" suddenly asked Lim Ho.

"Drowned," shouted Ardjan, "you say drowned. Have they drowned her, then?"

"Have they drowned her?" said Lim Ho in a mocking tone of voice. "Was not the 'djoekoeng' upset when the pair of you tried to run away in her? Where did that take place? perhaps Dalima may somehow have been able to get out."

"Able to get out," repeated Ardjan. "But the 'djoekoeng' did not turn over at all," he exclaimed. "We both of us got ashore. She was terribly frightened at the storm to be sure, but quite unhurt, and I was completely exhausted with rowing."

"But," roared Lim Ho, "what has become of her, then?"

"That, I cannot tell you," replied Ardjan, "you must ask Liem King and Than Khan."

These two worthies stood trembling with apprehension.

"Did you fellows hear that?" shouted Lim Ho in a towering passion. "Did you hear that? I am waiting for you--what is your answer?"

"I do not know what has become of the girl," stammered Than Khan.

"She has, very likely, been devoured by a crocodile, for all I know," added Liem King.

"Did she get to land? Yes or no?" roared Lim Ho, while in his impatience he stamped about the little hut, shaking it to its foundations.

"She did," replied Ardjan. "Those two scoundrels first tied me up, and then they bound Dalima's arms and legs. They brought me in here, and after that they went out in quest of Dalima. But all I know is they came back without her."

Lim Ho's piercing eyes were watching the two Chinamen as Ardjan was speaking.

"I have no doubt," Liem King again ventured to say, "that some crocodile has carried her off."

"Or maybe," said Than Khan, "a tiger has got hold of her."

Lim Ho applied a small whistle to his lips. He blew a shrill piercing note, and at the summons one of the Javanese crew at once presented himself at the door of the hut.

"Call your mates," ordered Lim Ho. In an instant the whole boat's crew was present.

"Tie me up those scoundrels," cried Lim Ho, "make them fast," he said, as he pointed to Liem King and Than Khan. "Tie them up, and securely too, do you hear me!"

The men readily obeyed, it was the work of an instant. Nothing in this world gave these fellows greater delight than to be allowed to lay their hands upon a Chinaman. They set to work as roughly, as brutally as they could. The knots were tied and they hauled upon the ropes with a will. The wretched victims groaned with the pain.

Oh! if ever it should come to an outbreak, then woe to the Celestials in Java, they would find but little mercy. Who knows--were such a catastrophe to take place they might not be the only race to suffer. There are others who might get into trouble too!

When both the Chinese spies were firmly secured, Lim Ho called to his men.

"Now, my lads, now for a hunt! A girl--little Dalima--has escaped from us and we must get her back. Five hundred 'ringgiets' six dollars to the man who finds her and brings her in!"

With a ringing cheer the boat's crew dashed from the hut.

When they had left, Lim Ho ordered one of his followers to hand him his pipe. He filled the small bowl with the slender bamboo stem with extremely fine-cut tobacco, then he lit the pipe and began to blow the smoke from his nostrils. Thereupon he took a seat on the only chair the hut contained. It was a rough and clumsy piece of furniture, cut out of the wood with a clasp-knife. The other Chinamen sat down cross-legged on the floor, while their captain once again turned to Ardjan.

"Come now," said he, "just you tell us how you managed to get Dalima out of the Kiem Ping Hin. You knew well enough, did you not, that I wanted the girl? But, look you, no lies! No lies, mind you! Your life is in my hands; you are aware of that, I hope."

Ardjan could but utter a deep sigh. He begged that his hands might be slackened if but a little. "To be trussed up like this," said he, "is unbearable torture."

"No, no," laughed Lim Ho. "First let us hear what you have to say, then we shall see what we can do for you."

Nevertheless he gave the order to remove the bamboo cane which had so long tortured the poor Javanese, and as soon as that was removed the Chinaman said:

"Now, speak up, I am listening to you!"

"You are aware," began Ardjan, "that I am mate on board the Kiem Ping Hin. Yesterday afternoon we were lying at anchor behind Poeloe Kalajan which is not far from Santjoemeh, when a 'djoekoeng' rowed up to us in which a couple of your countrymen were seated. At first I thought that they came alongside to take off some of the smuggled opium with which the schooner is partly loaded. I, therefore, threw them a rope and helped them up the ship's side. But, instead of coming to fetch anything off, they brought something aboard with them. It was a heavy sack which they carefully hoisted on deck, and which had something of the appearance of a human form. However, that was no business of mine, it was not the first time that I had seen that kind of thing going on. I even lent a hand at carrying the load into the captain's cabin, and I laughed and joked with the Chinamen at the fun Awal Boep Said was going to have.

"When, shortly after, the captain came on board, I told him of the bit of good luck that had befallen him, and I fancied he would be mightily pleased. Not a bit of it, instead of at once rushing down into his cabin, he quietly remained on deck, simply ordering me to keep a sharp look out as he was expecting some friends. And, true enough, a few hours later you, Lim Ho, came on board with two of your followers. You reached the schooner just in time. Night was rapidly falling, and a north-westerly storm was blowing up. No sooner were you aboard than it began to blow furiously. The moment I saw you, an unpleasant feeling came over me, and quite involuntarily my thoughts at once flew to the sack which I had helped to get aboard, and which then was lying on the bed in the cabin. I longed to get away down below to have a look; but the captain, who was watching the storm that was brewing, ordered the men to the braces and had a second anchor brought out. I had, of course, to take my share of duty and could not leave the deck.

"When, an hour or so after, I got to the cabin, I found you there stretched out on a couch. You were hard at it smoking opium, your pipe was in your hand, and with evident satisfaction you were swallowing down the smoke.--

"I knew well enough what all this meant. A man whose senses are dulled and deadened by habitual excess, must find something to rouse him. I knew that you had some little pigeon in your clutches, and that you were seeking to recruit by opium your exhausted powers. Your object was to get the greatest possible amount of enjoyment out of your victim--You know the properties of opium, and how to make use of it.

"Now all this did not concern me, I merely chuckled--I thought, that's a common thing enough! I remember a hadji telling me that opium is a gift of Ngahebi Mohammed, and the ever-blessed in Paradise use it to renew their strength and thus are for ever beloved by the houris.

"But yet, I could not get rid of that strange feeling that told me all was not well. I could not get rid of my anxious curiosity. Dalima has long ago been promised to me by her parents. She is to be my wife as soon as I can get together a few more 'ringgiets' which will enable me to purchase a yoke of oxen. The day on which I can get them together, is to be my wedding-day.

"But Lim Ho," and at these words the voice of the Javanese began to hiss and assume an almost threatening tone, "but Lim Ho, I know also that you covet the maiden,--I know what treasures you have offered her--I know what sums you have offered her parents as the price of her virtue, and of her innocence.

"I made up my mind--I must see who was there in the cabin.--Oh! I had not, at that time, the least suspicion that it was Dalima! She had rejected all your advances with the utmost contempt. Her father had even threatened to kreese you. How could the 'baboe' of the Ioean Resident have come into your power?--You see it was impossible!"

"Yes, yes, as you say it was quite impossible," said Lim Ho with a grin, excited by the story of Ardjan. "I say, Ong Kwat, just tell us how the girl came into your hands!"

"No need of that," resumed Ardjan, "I know all about it. Dalima told me the whole story in the 'djoekoeng.' Yesterday she was out for a walk with her master's youngest child in the lane behind the Residence. The boy in his play, flung his ball into a ditch by the side of the road. A Chinaman happened to be passing at the time and Dalima requested him to fetch the toy out of the water. He did so at her request; but instead of returning the ball to the child he pitched it as far as he could into the garden. The boy ran off eagerly to fetch it, and Dalima was looking after the child, when suddenly the Chinaman flung himself upon her, gagged her, and before she could utter a single cry threw a sack over her head. Thus muffled he dragged her to the end of the lane, and put her into a 'djoekoeng' which was lying in the ditch. The boat at once put off, and in an hour's time was alongside the Kiem Ping Hin."

"Just so!" exclaimed Lim Ho. "Now, Ong Kwat, is not that just about how you managed it?"

The man thus addressed grinned, nodded his head and added, "Yes, master, for four whole days I had been on the prowl for that catch."

"Now, Ardjan," resumed Lim Ho, "you may go on again; but mind you, no lies."

The Javanese continued: "As I entered the cabin I gave a hasty look round. You, Lim Ho, were partially unconscious, still smoking opium. You had not got to that stage when the drug excites the passions to madness. Your attendant was intent upon kneading the 'mandat' balls. There was no one in the cabin but you two, so I ventured to creep in, and, by the light of the lamp that was burning there, I saw--Dalima.

"With one bound I was at her side, in an instant I had severed the ropes which tied her, and in another moment I had dragged her out of the cabin. Thereupon I flew forward, got some clothes which I happened to have by me, and in a few seconds was back again with them. Dalima slipped them on, and thus partially disguised I hid her under a heap of sails which happened to be lying in the stern.

"Meanwhile the storm was raging in all its fury, and I have no doubt that it was chiefly owing to the noise of the wind that we had been able to get clear of the cabin unperceived. Captain Awal Boep Said, like a good Mussulman, was telling his beads, and from time to time uttered an 'Allah achbar' (God is great), or a 'Bismillah' (God be praised). The other men were all taking shelter in the forecastle, and your servants were lying sea-sick in their bunks.

"Of these favourable circumstances I made the best use I could. The 'djoekoeng,' in which Dalima had come alongside, was still lying there dancing on the waves. I took hold of the painter and drew the boat up to the side. The girl slid down into her along a rope which was hanging over the ship's side. I followed her, seized upon a paddle and then I cast her adrift, and the storm soon drove us far from the Kiem Ping Hin.

"I was in hopes that I might succeed in reaching that part of the beach which lies nearest to the Resident's house; but when the 'djoekoeng' got under the Poeloe Kalajan the wind got hold of her and we had to drift at the mercy of the waves.

"Then I managed to set the wings which were lying in the bottom of the boat. Without them we must certainly have capsized and been drowned. I kept on rowing with all my might; for I knew that once we were driven past the cape there would be an end of us. At length--at length--I managed to struggle through the breakers. One more effort and we were safe at the Moeara Tjatjing! The moment danger was over I fell down utterly exhausted, and, before I had time to recover Than Khan and Liem King had discovered us. They pinioned us both, Dalima and me. Me they carried off to this hut; what has become of the girl I don't know. I have not seen or heard of her since. Now then, Lim Ho," said he in conclusion, "that is the whole truth."

For a short time silence was preserved, Lim Ho seemed to reflect on what he had heard, and no one in the hut ventured to disturb his reflections.

At length he spoke, turning to Than Khan and Liem King, and said:

"Well, what have you to say to all that?" Neither of them answered a word.

"Do you intend to answer, yes or no?" roared Lim Ho in a furious passion, as he dealt Than Khan, who lay bound on the floor, a heavy kick in the side.

"The Javanese lies," cried the Chinaman, writhing with pain. "We have seen nothing of the girl!"

"He probably got her off into the woods," added Liem King, "before we came up."

"I would gladly have given my life for Dalima," cried Ardjan, "but I was lying on the beach utterly prostrate; I could not defend her, sir, I could not defend myself. I am telling you the truth. These two scoundrels must know what they have done with her!"

Lim Ho muttered a few words to himself and appeared to be thinking what he would do next, when voices were heard outside the hut, the voices of the boat's crew who had been hunting for Dalima, and were now returning with the tidings that their search had been fruitless, and that they had nowhere been able to find the girl.

Ardjan's face gleamed with satisfaction as he heard it, and he at once grew calmer.

"Unless," said one of the Javanese boatmen, holding up a coil of rope, "you call this a trace of her. I found this close by the spot where we landed."

Lim Ho fixed his eye upon the two wretched spies. They held their peace, that silent proof effectually closed their mouths.

"These are," said Ardjan, in a much quieter tone of voice than that in which he had spoken before, "these are the cords with which they bound Dalima's wrists and ankles. I recognise them perfectly."

Lim Ho hereupon uttered but two words; but they were words which caused Ardjan and Liem King and Than Khan to shudder with terror. In most abject terms they prayed for mercy. But Lim Ho remained deaf to all their entreaties, he scarcely deigned to cast a look at them; but now and then in his cold rage he would deal a savage kick at the body of one or the other of the prostrate Chinamen.

In a few abrupt words he gave his orders to the Javanese crew. Whatever his commands might be, his men were but too ready to carry them out. A couple of them at once left the hut while the others set Ardjan and the two Chinamen upon their legs and prepared to take them out of the cabin.

"Oh, sir, have pity, have mercy upon us!" Than Khan exclaimed in truly piteous accents.

"Where is Dalima?" was the furious rejoinder.

"We don't know where she is!" cried both the Chinamen.

"And you!" shouted Lim Ho turning to Ardjan; "do you know what has become of her?"

"I know nothing about it," was the reply. "I think that most probably she may have got back to the Residence."

"Have mercy, have mercy!" shrieked Liem King.

"What? mercy on such brutes as you?" scornfully said Lim Ho.

"But," they asked; "what harm have we done?"

"I will tell you what you have done," sneered Lim Ho. "You have had Dalima in your power and you have been pleased to let her go. That's what you have done and you shall suffer for it. And you!" he hissed out in fury, as he turned to Ardjan, "you have dared to carry the girl away. Oh, you shall pay for it!"

"But she is my bride," pleaded the wretched man.

"Your bride, indeed," said Lim Ho with concentrated rage. "Your bride? Do you think a pretty girl like Dalima is destined to be the bride of a Javanese dog like you? But it was last night that you carried her off from the Kiem Ping Hin. Might you perhaps in that 'djoekoeng'--"

A disgusting leer of disappointed passion passed over the features of Lim Ho as he uttered the half finished question.

"No, no, by Allah!" fiercely exclaimed the Javanese. "Dalima is as pure as the white flower of which she bears the name. But," added he in a calmer mood, "you know better than that. You know that in such weather as we had last night I had very little time for trifling and love-making."

"That's lucky for you," cried Lim Ho; "had you so much as touched her too freely I would this very moment drive my kreese into you. As it is, I will simply punish you for having run away. I will consent to forget that Dalima is anything to you. But," he added with an odious smile, "you seem to forget that the matter is somewhat serious for you. You ran away, remember, to give the coastguard notice of the arrival and of the movements of the Kiem Ping Hin--"

"That is not true," hastily interrupted Ardjan.

"That, you see, amounts to treachery--treachery to the Company," continued Lim Ho without taking the slightest notice of Ardjan's indignant denial. "It's a serious matter as you know."

"I tell you it is all a lie," cried the wretched Javanese, driven to despair by the other's manner. "It is all a lie. I ran away to save Dalima from your filthy clutches; you may drive your dagger into me for that, but I am no traitor."

"I tell you again," replied Lim Ho with perfect calmness, "that your intention was to betray the secrets of the Company. You know the laws of the Company, do you not? I will therefore give you the same punishment as to those two scoundrels. I will then have you put on board the Kiem Ping Hin; not as her mate; oh, no, but simply as a slave; and you will be put ashore at Poeloe Bali and there you will have to remain on pain of death. You will remain there, I say, as long as ever the Company shall see fit."

"Oh no!" wildly cried Ardjan, "not that, anything but that; rather kill me at once. I have not played the spy; I am no traitor. I will not, I cannot live away from Dalima!"

The face of Lim Ho plainly showed the bitter hatred he felt towards his rival--a hatred the more intense because he knew that Ardjan possessed the fair young girl's heart.

He did not, however, vouchsafe any further reply; but gave a sign to the boatmen.

With blows and kicks they drove the prisoners before them down the rough steps. They revelled in the brutality which they were allowed to show to these unhappy wretches.

With their hands tightly bound behind their backs the three were half driven, half pushed down, and being quite unable to steady themselves they tumbled down into the filthy mud beneath and grovelled there amidst the shouts of laughter of their tormentors until they were again roughly put on their feet.

Lim Ho and his pig-tailed companions heartily joined in the merriment and thus encouraged the rough sailors in their unmerciful handling of the miserable captives.

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III. HOEKOEM KAMADOOG--THE VAN GULPENDAM FAMILY

Nothing could be more strange, and indeed awful, than the contrast between the fair face of nature and the hideous cruelty which man was about to perpetrate on that little sequestered spot on the north coast of Java.

The storm which had been raging furiously during the night had now fallen to a fresh yet warm breeze. The leaves of the singular forest of mangrove were softly rustling in the wind, and the waves, which a few hours ago were madly dashing on the shore, now were quietly running up the beach with pleasant and melodious murmurs. Indeed, the prospect from the hut over the little bay of the Moeara Tjatjing, enclosed by its two headlands, was picturesque in the extreme. Under the bright beams of the early morning sun, the intense blue of the sea was glittering with indescribable purity and brilliancy, the surface of the ocean was still heaving, the waves still were following each other as in pursuit, here and there a breaker might still be seen topped by a snow-white cap of foam; but there was nothing angry in the scene. The bosom of Amphitrite still heaved, but all fierce and angry passions seemed to have died away. At some little distance from the land the schooner Kiem Ping Hin was dancing on the water, rising and falling gracefully, while the British ensign floated at the peak.

Just in front of the hut, in which took place the stormy scenes we have described in the former chapters, and close by the small group of "Saoe" trees we have mentioned, there stood a clump of "Niboeng" palms. Straight and smooth as candles were their stems, and high up in the air their feathery tops were waving to the breeze. On all sides, excepting on that of the sea, the mangrove wood, with its maze of tangled roots, surrounded the hut as with an impenetrable wall.

The bay to which Lim Ho and his attendants had dragged their unhappy prisoners was thus perfectly lonely, closely screened from every human eye.

As soon as they had arrived at the spot, Lim Ho made a signal to his men. In an instant the prisoners had their clothes torn from their bodies, and stark naked they were firmly lashed to the smooth stems of three palm trees. The ropes, which had already served to confine the limbs of Dalima, now were used to tie Ardjan and the two Chinese spies to the trunks of these trees, which, to them, were to become stakes at which they were destined to endure the most excruciating agony. The victims knew well what was in store for them, and kept anxiously looking round to see what would happen; their eyes, however, glaring around with wild terror, could not, at once, discover what they sought, and what they were every moment dreading to see. Although the tropical sun was burning down on their backs, yet they were trembling in every limb, as if shivering with cold; their hands were fastened high up above their heads, and the ropes were passed round their loins and knee-joints. Thus they could not make the slightest movement without extreme pain, for the ropes being plaited of "Iemoetoe" were hard, rough, and prickly.

Suddenly Than Khan uttered a startled cry, he had been anxiously looking round, and he now saw a couple of sailors coming up from the wood, each carefully bearing a bundle of leaves. The wretched man knew at a glance that the hour of torture was at hand. The leaves which the sailors bore well deserve description. They were broad and heart-shaped, and were attached to twigs resembling brushwood. The edges of the leaves were roughly jagged like the teeth of a saw, and their upper and under surfaces were covered with white hairy down. They were leaves of the "Kamadoog," the devil thistle, the most terrible plant perhaps which the earth produces. With infinite precaution--a precaution which needs no explanation--the Javanese sailors made, of these leafy twigs, three broom-like scourges, around the handles of which they carefully wrapped some grass and bits of rag. When he saw his men thus armed, Lim Ho gave the signal to begin. Three sailors stepped up to the victims, and with the twigs began to strike their backs, their loins, their thighs, and the calves of their legs. Then was enacted a hideous, but most curious scene. It was not, properly speaking, any scourging at all, the blows which they inflicted were as light as possible; they rather flipped or stroked the flesh of their victims, and it looked as if they were engaged in simply driving away insects or troublesome flies from the naked bodies. Now and then, one or other of them would give a somewhat harder flip, as if some obstinate fly refused to be dislodged from the spot. But the features of the unfortunate wretches, who were suffering this apparently playful scourging, were in horrible contrast with the seeming gentleness of the treatment. The faces of Ardjan and of his companions in misfortune were actually distorted with terror, their eyes were starting from the sockets. Wherever those dreadful leaves lightly fell on the skin, the body at once shrunk away in pain, the limbs began to quiver, the muscles began to work up and to stiffen in knots, as if drawn together by violent cramp. But still that gentle flicking and stroking went on. The sufferers began to writhe and twist about their bodies in intolerable anguish. Still the heartless executioners went on with their hideous task. The miserable victims panted for breath, a low, most pitiful moaning escaped from their lips; they gnashed their teeth with agony, they bit their lips until the blood came; but all to no purpose--nothing could bring them relief.

"Have mercy, sir," they moaned with the piteous wail of a dying child.

But Lim Ho had no mercy to show his wretched victims, he waved his hand to the executioners, who, at that sign, entirely changed their mode of operation, and now the gentle fanning was replaced by a severe downright flogging. The blows, laid on with the full strength of the sailors, rained down upon the bare bodies of the tortured wretches, their skin resounded under the pattering of the leaves, which, less barbarous than the men who wielded them, began to tear and fly from their stems.

As soon as that flogging commenced, the prisoners no longer moaned, they roared, they yelled, they howled with anguish. It was the cry of a wild beast wounded to death, which gathers up its remaining strength for one dying roar.

The limbs of the miserable men now not only shrank and writhed; but with the convulsive energy which only such extremity of torture could lend, they clasped with their legs the smooth trunks of the trees, they seemed to try and sink into them and bury themselves in the wood. It was an awful spectacle, and yet, strange to say, no wounds could be seen, no contusions, no livid spots even; nothing at all in fact to account for such unheard-of suffering. The skin only looked somewhat puffy, somewhat red and inflamed, and covered with very small blisters. The wounds which the bodies of the victims bore were serious enough, it is true; but they had nothing to do with the leaves of the terrible nettle. In their almost superhuman efforts to burst their bonds, and in their frantic contortions, the sufferers had forced the ropes into the flesh, and here and there the strands had cut their way to the bone, so that streams of blood were pouring along their arms, along their thighs and loins, and were forming broad red spots on the soft slippery soil. That anguish must have been acute enough in itself; but it was nothing compared to the torture occasioned by the leaves of the devil-thistle.

At length the instruments of torture had become well nigh stripped, there was left in fact only the bare twigs, on which here and there a few tattered leaves were still dangling, the poisonous leaves lay scattered in all directions, faded, torn, and shapeless about the feet of the sufferers. But, even then, Lim Ho did not think of causing the torture to cease, he seemed to be bent on utterly destroying his victims. He ordered the men to stop for a few moments. It was not because he felt any pity. Not at all, he merely caused the half dead bodies to be sprinkled with salt water, which, if possible, augmented the torments they endured. The monster was, in fact, on the point of resuming his inhuman flogging, when suddenly a cry was raised, "The police, the police!"

In furious haste Lim Ho and his assistants flew up to the tortured Chinamen. In a moment they had severed the cords which bound them to the trees, and the next instant they were dragging the wretches who were curling and twisting in their agony along the rough path which led to the landing-place where their boat lay moored. Two of Lim Ho's men would have performed the same office for Ardjan, but the shouts of the rescuing party became louder every instant, the men were stricken with panic, took to their heels, and with all speed rejoined their retreating comrades.

They got to the boat just in time, for they had no sooner got into her, before five or six policemen led on by Dalima and closely followed by a crowd of people came to the spot.

"Allah," exclaimed the young girl as she caught sight of Ardjan, who was still tied up to the tree, moaning with pain, and whose almost lifeless body was hanging like a sack in the somewhat slackened ropes; "Allah, what in the world have they done to him!"

In a moment the unfortunate man was surrounded, his bonds were severed, and he was laid down gently on a mat which somebody had run to fetch from the little watch-house. But he could not utter a word. He yelled with pain, and rolled about on the ground writhing like a crushed worm.

"Oh, my God!" he moaned most piteously, "I am in pain! in pain!"

"Where is the pain?" cried Dalima, as she sat crouching down beside him.

"It is the kamadoog," the sufferer managed to say between his sobs of anguish.

"The kamadoog!" cried the bystanders in horror.

It was plain enough now. One of the spectators had taken up a few torn leaves, and at once recognised the terrible nettle. Every man in the crowd turned pale with horror. And truly the kamadoog is a dreadful plant. The slightest contact with its formidable leaves occasions a violent itching, painful as a severe burn; and, when used as an instrument of torture, it causes the most intolerable suffering, for at least seven days; it makes the limbs stiffen, and produces a burning fever, which not unfrequently ends in the most painful death.

"Has anyone here any 'sirihkalk?'" (chalk made of sea-shells) cried Dalima.

Some few of the bystanders had with them the "sirih," which they are fond of chewing. They unwrapped the sirih-leaf in which were the pinang-nut, the chalk, and the tobacco, which form this highly-prized chew, and gave the chalk to the girl, who hastened to anoint the sufferer with the paste-like alkali. But, unfortunately, so great was the surface which had been exposed to the stroke of the hairy leaves, that the supply of "sirih-chalk" was altogether inadequate, and only a very small portion of the blisters could be treated with the remedy. Dalima was in despair. There was nothing else for it but to carry Ardjan into the hut, which afforded a shelter from the burning sun. Then some of the men hurried away to fetch a supply of oil and chalk, which they hoped would mitigate the pain, and check the fever. By evening, if all were well, Ardjan might perhaps have so far recovered as to bear the fatigue of being moved to more convenient quarters.

While these remedies were being applied to poor Ardjan, the boat in which Lim Ho had put off, was being rowed past the djaga monjet, and was getting out of the little bay. The policemen stood on the shore calling to the crew to come back; but no one took the slightest notice of their summons, and, as they had no firearms with them to enforce obedience, the only reply they got was a derisive cheer, and a shout of defiance.

As he rowed by the djaga monjet, Lim Ho had plainly recognised Dalima, who, actively employed in assisting her tortured lover, was running about, in and out, here and there.

The sight of her literally maddened the brutal Chinaman; he was on the point of ordering his boat's crew to return and row to land. But, in another instant, he came to himself, and recovered his reason. It would indeed have been the act of a madman to try and carry off the girl just then. He knew that he could place great dependence upon the power of his gold; but yet, in full daylight, in the very face of all those people, he felt he could hardly try its influence upon the native police. So he could only shake his fist in impotent rage, and the word to return remained unspoken.

The boat swiftly glided out of the Moeara Tjatjing, and at once made for the Kiem Ping Hin, which was already loosening her sails, and waiting impatiently for the return of her boat's crew. As they mounted the deck, Captain Awal Boep Said came up to report to Lim Ho that the smoke of a steamer could just be seen on the horizon. "Probably," he added, "it is the Matamata, she was here yesterday."

"Those white blockheads," muttered Lim Ho, with a scornful laugh. "At night they have their coloured lights up, and we can tell them miles away. By day they take care to send up a cloud of smoke which no one can mistake. I will bet they have not discovered us yet, while we have had our eye on her ever so long ago."

"It is the guard-ship, sir, likely enough. What are your orders?" said the captain.

"The wind has risen somewhat with the sun," replied Lim Ho. "Set sail at once, and steer for Bali."

A quarter of an hour later, the Kiem Ping Hin was gracefully heeling over to the freshening breeze, and, under full sail, was flying to the eastward. When, much later on, the Matamata came to the Moeara Tjatjing, the smuggler, an excellent sailing craft, was on the horizon; she was nothing more than a faint white speck on the deep blue sea. The clumsy old guard-ship, which, under favourable circumstances, could not make more than six knots, and might perhaps do eight knots under extra pressure, had not the smallest chance of overtaking the rakish schooner, running eleven knots before the breeze. In less than an hour, the vessels were out of sight of one another altogether.

Meanwhile, what had befallen Dalima that she thus managed to come up at the right moment of time to rescue Ardjan from compulsory exile? As soon as she had succeeded in gnawing through the rope which tied her wrists, no very difficult task for her sharp white teeth--she plucked asunder the knots by which her feet were confined. That did not take long, and with a gesture of contempt she flung the cords aside and was hastening from the spot. For a moment or two, however, she stood still, considering whether she ought not to go straight to the djaga monjet, perhaps she might be of some service to Ardjan. At that moment, however, she caught the voices of the two Chinamen who were coming down the pathway in quest of her. This at once brought her to a decision and thoroughly terrified she ran off at the top of her speed in the opposite direction. As she was speeding along she made up her mind to go straight to her mistress and implore her aid. But, the question was, would she listen to her story, would she help her? Well, if she would not, then she would go to the Resident, he surely could not refuse to hear her.

Thus, like a hunted roe she flew along, the thick forest had no terrors for her, she was a true child of Nature and knew her road well, and so, in a few seconds, she had disappeared among the tangled roots of the mangrove.

It was in the early morning that she reached the grounds of the house. The first thing she saw under the half open verandah or "pandoppo" was the Resident's daughter. Her young mistress was quite alone, she was lying back in a comfortable rocking-chair and was reading a book in which she seemed wholly absorbed.

So Dalima glided very softly into the pandoppo and, without making the least sound, with a graceful motion seated herself cross-legged on the floor close to the maiden who continued gently rocking herself as she read. "Nana," said Dalima in the softest whisper which sounded like a gentle sigh, "Nana!"

At the sound the young girl gave a sudden start, she dropped her book and springing up from her seat, "Siapa ada?" (who is there) she cried half in terror, half in surprise.

The daughter of the Resident stood there for a few moments in the rays of the early sun, a perfect picture of loveliness. Her forehead of the purest ivory-white was surrounded by a rich mass of glossy dark-brown curls, her nose and chin might have served as models to a sculptor. But, though the features were faultlessly regular, the whole face was full of animation and of life. The lips of the rosiest red and of exquisite form resembled a freshly opened rosebud, the cheeks were tinged with the glow of health and the large deep-brown eyes were full of tenderness and plainly spoke of a gentle and loving disposition within. The neck and bust of the young girl were modestly veiled under the folds of a tastefully arranged "Kabaja" which, however, could not hide the well-filled and perfectly rounded form it strove to conceal.

"Who is there?" she had cried as startled she had sprung up from her chair.

"It is I, Nana," whispered Dalima in a scarcely audible voice.

The fair young girl, whom we have tried faintly to depict to the reader, was called Anna. In ordinary conversation the servants usually addressed her as "Nonna" (Miss). But Dalima, either by reason of her youth or it may be because she was shy and gentle of nature, was Anna's special favourite and enjoyed certain privileges with her young mistress over the other servants; she was indeed looked upon in the light of a companion, and so she always used to call her "Nonna Anna" which was first contracted into "Nonanna," and then became simply "Nana." Thus the reader will perceive that the name "Nana" has nothing whatever in common with Zola's disgusting production, nor yet with the inhuman monster who made himself so sadly notorious at Cawnpore.

At the words "It is I, Nana," Anna looked down and no sooner saw Dalima seated at her feet than she recovered from her scare. She offered to raise the maiden who, however, maintained her position on the floor of the verandah. "You here, Dalima," cried she; "where in the world have you been? Mamma is dreadfully angry with you. Where have you come from?"

"Nana," she replied, "I have been carried off!"

"By whom?" asked Anna.

"By some of Lim Ho's men," said Dalima.

"Lim Ho?" cried Anna now really frightened, "Lim Ho? What, have you been in his power?"

"Yes I have," said the young girl.

"What, all night?"

"No," replied Dalima, "No, not all night; Allah has been my protection and--"

"So, so! That gadabout has come home at last, has she?" cried a voice which caused both the girls to start with terror.

It was Anna's mother, who just then came into the pandoppo without having been noticed either by her daughter or by Dalima.

She came straight from her bathroom as was evident from the rich black hair which flowed waving down her back, and had completely wetted the kabaja she wore, while she had covered her neck and shoulders with a bathing-towel of the finest material.

Bending her head backwards she drew the towel from under her hair and handed it to the nènèh (old Javanese woman) who followed her, with the order to go and dry it immediately.

Madam Laurentia van Gulpendam, whose maiden name was Termolen, was a stately matron, fully thirty-five years of age, and was still extremely beautiful. Years and maternity had not made much impression upon her charms. She had but one child, Anna, and fearing that the natural duties of a mother might impair her beauty, she had confided her daughter to the care of a nurse. In spite, however, of all precautions, the influence of time was now beginning to make itself felt, and though it could not be denied that Laurentia carried the load of years proudly enough, yet lately she had found the necessity of bringing certain powders and certain mysterious toilette-confections into requisition, to help out the somewhat fading complexion and (to use an elegant expression of her husband who had had something to do with the sea, and was always interlarding his conversation with nautical terms) to caulk here and there an indiscreet, and too obtrusive wrinkle. Here and there also a silver thread might have been detected among the wealth of jet-black hair, had not the Nènèh Wong Toewâ, been anxiously watchful, and at its very first appearance plucked out the traitor. The finely formed lips also had begun to lose somewhat of their bright carnation; and the corners of the mouth were beginning to droop. But for these tokens of advancing age also, the nènèh was on the watch. For preserving the mouth she had a sourish kind of fluid prepared from the red ant which she used as "vinaigre de toilette," and for the wrinkles she had an ointment made of the fat of lizards, in which when boiling hot sundry scorpions and centipedes had met a painful death. But Nènèh Wong Toewâ was moreover an old, experienced doctoress, and she had many other wonderful secrets in her possession which she placed at the disposal of her mistress; and if the stately Laurentia still kept her lawful lord and master enthralled by her charms,--if the world around was still bound to confess that she was a fine woman,--if her waist, her shoulders, her bosom did still, in a ball-room, attract the greedy, admiring eyes of the men, and awakened envy among the ladies--then to Wong Toewâ a great share of these much coveted honours was due, and often from behind a screen the old crone would stand unobserved and enjoy the triumph of her mistress, and delight in the homage which followed her wherever she went.

Laurentia Termolen was the daughter of a former resident, and was an exceedingly handsome and agreeable girl when, at the tender age of sixteen, she became the wife of Mr. van Gulpendam who, at that time, was controller of the Home Department, and her father's right hand. Though born in India she was of European parents, both on the mother's and father's side: and she had had the advantage of an excellent education, that is to say, large sums of money had been lavishly spent upon her. She had had the very best masters in language, in music, in dancing, &c., she had even been sent to Holland to receive the finishing touches. Now, under ordinary circumstances, she might--nay she would have developed into an excellent woman; but unfortunately for her, these ordinary and favourable circumstances were wanting. For both papa and mamma were people of inordinate ambition, and had, moreover, or perhaps in consequence of that ambition, one ruling passion, the love of display. They wanted to make a great figure in their little world, and to keep up an immense amount of outward show. But all this cost money, much money, very much money, and the means whereby they sought to obtain the necessary dross, were not always such as would bear honest scrutiny. From her earliest childhood, Laurentia had heard snatches of conversation, later on she had been present at incidents, and had witnessed family quarrels, in which dishonesty and prodigality strove for the mastery. Thus her young mind had, of necessity, been poisoned, and germs of corruption had been planted within her which were sure to bring forth the most lamentable results.

If now, in Holland, she had but fallen into good hands, all this might, to a great extent at least, have been remedied, and the poisonous germs within her might perhaps have been stifled or their growth might have been checked. But hers had been the case of so many Indian-born children. She had always been looked upon as an object of financial speculation, she had always been considered as a kind of gold mine which her parents intended thoroughly to work and make the most of. Thus a mere outward veneer of good manners and a mare "jargon de bon ton" were thought amply sufficient; and of true education and moral development there had, with her, never been any question at all.

Now, had but van Gulpendam been the right man for it, he might even at the time of their marriage have made a total change in the disposition of the young girl entrusted to his care. But van Gulpendam was a man who had gone to India merely to make his fortune, and had but one object, namely, to return as soon as possible, and especially as rich as possible, to his own country. He was therefore the very last man to set an example of honesty and purity, and his intimacy with the Termolens had done nothing to counteract the evil that was in him. Money-making was his only passion, and his union with fair Laurentia had only served to make that sordid principle strike deeper roots into his heart.

After her marriage Laurentia's duty was to follow her husband, who took good care to obtain from his father-in-law none but places in the interior and most remote parts of the island. Thus he had become controller at Brandowo; after that, Assistant Resident at Bandjar Oetara; both of these places where hardly a single European could be found, and where consequently no one could watch the dodges and tricks of the official household.

How he had managed to be on the most excellent terms with the Regent who exacted taxes in kind, and at the same time also had the most cordial relations with the representatives of the opium farmers, who found it necessary to throw dust into the eyes of the Dutch authorities; and how she had lent out money to the natives on the most exorbitant interest for which she did not scruple to take, as securities, valuable articles such as jewels and heirlooms, all these dirty transactions had remained a profound secret and had not prevented van Gulpendam from rising to the position of full Resident.

This long isolation had, moreover, the most pernicious effect upon his grasping character, and upon the no less ambitious disposition of his young wife. By continual contact with none but inferiors who bowed down to them to the very ground, the bearing of Laurentia had grown to be intolerably arrogant. She had become imperious woman personified, and this grave blemish in her character was so entirely in harmony with her outward appearance, that when she had to appear in public on official occasions in the full dignity of "Resident's wife" she might have served as model for a Juno.

Such then was the mother of Anna van Gulpendam, as she suddenly stalked into the pandoppo and at the sight of Dalima straightway fired up and cried out: "So! has that slut come in again?"

"Now then," she continued in her wrath, "tell me, you young monkey, where have you been? You have been out, I'll be bound, dragging about with that lover of yours!"

"Pardon, madam!" cried the young girl. "I did not run away. I did not indeed!"

"And you did not leave master Leo running about by himself in the garden?"

"I was carried off, madam," said the young girl.

"Carried off!" cried Mrs. van Gulpendam scornfully, "by whom, pray?"

"By two strange Chinamen," replied Dalima.

"How did that come to pass?" asked her mistress.

Thereupon Dalima gave her mistress a detailed account of her forcible abduction by Ong Kwat, of which we have made mention above. We ought here to add that "sienjo Leo" just mentioned was the son of the Resident's brother, and that the boy had been staying for a considerable time at the residence, his father at that time having his home at Billiton.

"And where did they take you to?" enquired Mrs. van Gulpendam. There was in her voice some little emotion, called forth no doubt by the young girl's graphic description.

"They took me on board a big ship," said Dalima.

"Whose ship was that?"

"I don't know," replied Dalima. "I had not, however, been on board long before Lim Ho came--"

"Lim Ho," cried Mrs. van Gulpendam now thoroughly roused!--"Lim Ho, the son of the rich opium farmer!"

"That is the man," replied Dalima trembling as in utter confusion she still was crouching at the feet of her Nonna Anna.

A very peculiar smile began to play upon Mrs. van Gulpendam's lips, and a very peculiar fire began to sparkle in her eyes. "Anna," said she to her daughter, "I wish you would just go and ask your father if he would like a cup of coffee, and, if he does, get it him; will you?"

The young girl at once took the hint and disappeared.

As soon as she was gone Laurentia in feverish haste and with heaving bosom turned to Dalima and said:

"Well, what then?"

Oh! poor Dalima understood that look so well, and little as she knew of the world she knew so well why the "nonna" had been sent away. She repressed her emotion however, and calmly enough she said:

"Lim Ho went to smoke opium."

"Of course, of course," said Laurentia, huskily, "of course he went to smoke opium, before--" It is utterly impossible to convey in words any idea of the expression on the face of Laurentia van Gulpendam as she allowed the word "before" to slip from her lips. Those wildly gleaming eyes, that projecting slightly quivering jaw, those half-open lips which allowed the breath to pass with a slightly hissing sound, and that full bosom heaving convulsively under the wet kabaja--all these were the visible signs of passion raging unrestrained within. That face betrayed the whole story, aye and even betrayed her regret that van Gulpendam did not smoke opium.

"Well," she said at length, after having for a few moments stared at Dalima; "well, and what happened then?"

"Nothing happened at all," was Dalima's quiet reply.

"Nothing," cried Laurentia; "that's a lie! Lim Ho would have had you carried to his ship merely to--"

"Before he had done smoking," hastily interposed Dalima, "I was rescued."

"Rescued! rescued! By whom?"

"By Ardjan," replied the girl, trembling more violently than before.

"By Ardjan? by Ardjan?" shouted her mistress. "Oh! you filthy creature. Now I see it all. Of course you ran away from 'master Leo' to go and have a game with your Ardjan, and now you want to put it all upon Lim Ho. Wait a bit, I will--

"Gulpendam!" she shouted, "Gulpenda-a-m!" So shrill and so sharp sounded her voice as she thus called for her husband, that a couple of servants came rushing in thinking something terrible must have happened.

"Call your master!" she cried to them.

"Pardon, madam, pardon!" cried poor Dalima in wailing tones.

"No, no," said her mistress, "no pardon for a creature like you."

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IV. THE PLOT THICKENS

Mr. van Gulpendam came rushing in.

Stately and dignified as was the "Kandjeng toean Residèn" (High and mighty Lord Resident), yet when fair Laurentia called in that tone of voice he became briskness personified. A wicked world, indeed, whispered that on such occasions he dared not for his life be one whit less nimble.

The resident was, like his fair spouse, in undress; he had on only a pair of pyjamas and a "Kabaja," and in this airy costume was seated in the outer fore-gallery of the spacious residence, engaged in leisurely sipping his coffee and enjoying his morning cigar, when the voice of his wife was heard re-echoing through the house: "Gulpendam, Gulpenda-am!"

As if electrified, at the last long drawn-out syllable, van Gulpendam flew up out of his rocking-chair, and that with such violence and speed, that he drove the thing flying away several feet behind him.

"Man, the umbrella, quickly!" he roared.

Besides the habitual and constant use of nautical terms to which we have already alluded, van Gulpendam had another weakness; he would always insist upon having the emblem of his authority, the pajoeng, (umbrella) close by his side. In the very entrance of the official mansion four of these umbrellas were placed in a stand by the chair which the Lord Resident was wont to occupy. In his private office another pajoeng stood close by his writing desk; in his bedroom yet another was conspicuous at the head of the residential bed-stead. Thieves might break in during the night, such was his argument, and at the majesty of the mighty pajoeng would recoil in horror. To that argument Laurentia, imperious though she was, had had to bow, and had been forced to suffer the emblem of her lord's supremacy in the inmost sanctuary of her bed-chamber; but in the pandoppo where, in her capacity of mistress of the house, she was determined to rule supreme--no pajoeng was ever allowed to intrude. If the Resident wished to go out for a walk then it was always "Man, the umbrella!" and the umbrella and the cigar-case and the lighted slow match obediently followed his footsteps. Sometimes when the great man would cool his forehead in the breeze, the servant obsequiously carried the official gold-laced cap--reverently it was carried behind him as a priest might bear some holy relic.

As van Gulpendam made his appearance in the pandoppo he was greeted with the words, somewhat sternly uttered: "What business has that pajoeng here? You know I won't have the thing in this place." And turning very sharply upon the unhappy attendant, Laurentia cried: "Back with you, away, quick!" and a single look from the master caused the man to disappear with his umbrella faster, indeed, than he had entered.

"I say," said Mrs. van Gulpendam, addressing her husband, "Dalima has come back. I want you just to guess where that good-for-nothing creature has been to."

"What is the use of my trying to guess?" replied the husband. "She has no doubt dropped anchor somewhere in the dessa."

"In the dessa," scornfully exclaimed the lady, "oh, no doubt. Not a bit of it--she has been on the tramp with that Ardjan of her's."

"Pardon, madam!" cried the poor girl, who understood Dutch quite well enough not to lose a syllable of her mistress's words.

"And now," Laurentia went on, all in a breath, "now she has came home with quite a romantic tale. She pretends that she has been carried off, forsooth, by Lim Ho, and that she has passed the night in a ship. Just fancy that."

At the name of Lim Ho, and at the mention of the word "ship," the Resident pricked his ears. The captain of the Matamata, the guardship, had sent in a report in which he had said that the Kiem Ping Hin had been cruising about the coast. That schooner-brig belonged to the opium farmer, who was shrewdly suspected of being in close league with the opium smugglers. Hence the attention of the Resident was so suddenly arrested.

"What ship?" asked van Gulpendam, somewhat hastily.

"How should I know what ship?" replied his wife. "You had better ask that wretched girl."

"Pardon, madam!" cried Dalima, as she was still cowering in great terror on the floor of the pandoppo.

"Come, Dalima," said van Gulpendam, with some kindness in his voice, "come now, my girl, just tell us what has really happened to you."

"Allah, master, they have caught Ardjan. Have pity!"

"They have caught Ardjan, you say," interrupted van Gulpendam, "who have caught him?"

"Babah Than Khan and babah Liem King," replied the girl, weeping bitterly.

"Oh ho," muttered her master to himself, and then turning to the girl again, he said, aloud, "Where did they lay hands on him?"

"In the Moeara Tjatjing, toean," was the reply.

"In the Moeara Tjatjing," said van Gulpendam, musingly; "what brought him there, I wonder?"

"He had just escaped with me," sobbed Dalima.

"That's it, now what did I tell you!" almost shrieked Laurentia.

"From the ship," added poor Dalima, between her sobs.

"Aye, no doubt!" cried her mistress. "Run away from this house. That is nearer the truth!"

"For goodness sake," said the Resident, apart to his wife, "let the girl get under weigh, or else we shall never get to land," and turning to Dalima, he said: "Now come, first of all, let us hear how you got on board the ship."

Thereupon, the poor girl, still seated cross-legged on the floor, began to tell her master all that had befallen her from the time of her forcible abduction out of his garden, to the moment that she had succeeded in gnawing through the ropes which bound her, and had taken to headlong flight.

Just as the girl was beginning her tale, Anna had quietly re-entered the pandoppo, and thus heard the whole story.

"Well," said the Resident, when Dalima had ended the story of her woes. "Well, that is a curious tale certainly; and now what about Ardjan--did you leave him behind you at the Moeara Tjatjing?"

"Why, sir," replied Dalima, "he could not move, he was tied hand and foot when the two Chinamen carried him off on the pole. They could not, however, have taken him very far; for scarcely had I got my feet free, before I saw their lanterns shining between the trees, and heard their voices approaching. Had it been light enough they must have seen me running away, and most probably I should never have got clear of them at all."

"Then you suppose Ardjan is still there?" asked her master, somewhat eagerly.

"That I cannot say, toean," replied Dalima. "I overheard them saying to each other that they intended first to take Ardjan to the djaga monjet, and then come back and fetch me."

"To the djaga monjet," hastily cried van Gulpendam. "Man! man!"

"If I were you," said his wife, as bitterly as she could, "I would this time leave the pajoeng behind."

But without taking the slightest notice of the amiable remark, the Resident turned to the servant, who had appeared at his call, and said: "Man, you will go at once with a couple of your mates to the Moeara Tjatjing. As you go you are to rouse the people of the neighbouring dessas, and take as many of them with you as you think you will require to help you, and then you will try and arrest Ardjan the Javanese. Baboe Dalima there will show you the way."

"Oh, you believe the girl's story then?" contemptuously asked Laurentia.

"Well, not all of it perhaps," replied her husband, "but anyhow it is of the utmost importance that the matter should be cleared up." And turning to his servant, he went on: "You carry out my orders to the letter; do you hear? And now go, and take Dalima with you."

When both had disappeared, van Gulpendam said in a whisper to his wife: "At the bottom of all this mystery, depend upon it, there is some opium-scandal. Whenever Lim Ho's name is mixed up in anything, there is something going on that must not see the light; and--if my soundings are correct--then--the rich papa will have to pay the piper."

These words the Resident accompanied with a most expressive gesture, moving his thumb and fore-finger as a man who is counting down money. Mrs. van Gulpendam tried to stop him by looking significantly at her daughter Anna.

"Oh, come, come," laughed the husband, "she is no longer a baby. When you were her age you had seen a good deal more than that at your parents'. She must by degrees get to understand where all the housekeeping-money comes from." And drawing his daughter to him, he said to her, as he patted her smooth cheek, "I am right, Anna, am I not? When by-and-bye you are married, you will like to live in a fine house like this, you will like to have your jewels like your mother, you will want fine dresses, elegant carriages, the best and most thorough-bred horses, eh?"

"Well, my dear father," replied the fair girl with a blush and a most bewitching smile, "I suppose every girl would; however, I am not particularly fond of all these things."

"Oh, no," interrupted the Resident with a laugh, "we know all about that. All girls talk just as you do when they are your age. It is always the same thing, 'Beauty when unadorned &c., &c.' But," he continued, "all that sentiment does not last very long; in time women begin to see that the vital question is to appear as beautiful as possible. And now, my girl, you run away, and go and have a look to my breakfast; I have ordered it to be laid in the verandah and I have asked my secretary van Nes to come and have it with me. You know he is a man who knows what is good--so mind you look to the honour of the galley."

When his daughter had left the pandoppo to do her father's bidding, he turned to his wife and said: "Now, my dear Laurentia, just you listen to me. In a day or two I have to pay our bill to John Pryce of Batavia, it comes to 20,000 guilders, as you know, and of that sum I haven't got the first thousand together yet. Now, if I am right about this Lim Ho business, why then you will see, we shall have fair weather enough for our money-question; oh yes, and we shall log a good bit more than that--we shall have a nice little sum in the locker after the bill is paid--that may come in handy--what do you say, eh?"

"Of course," replied his wife thoughtfully, "but then that running away of Dalima, I don't like--"

"Now, now," cried her husband, "just you wait a bit, don't be in a hurry, don't go running off the stocks too fast! If the girl's yarn be true, then--yes--I am afraid that Lim Ho has been fishing behind the net. And yet, when I come to look at it that is not so bad for us either. It will only make him clap on more sail and--if we can only keep our helm steady, then that little job may turn out a very nice little breeze for us. A Chinaman, you know, will go far--aye he will go very far to gratify his passions. So you just let me brace up, and mind don't you go taking the wind out of my sails."

It was growing rather late in the evening--about half past seven--when the Oppas, who had been sent out, returned and reported to his master that, with Dalima's help, he had found Ardjan. The news came to Mr. van Gulpendam just after he had risen from table, and was sitting with his wife and daughter in the cool front gallery of the sumptuous Residential mansion. They were awaiting the arrival of some friends and acquaintances who were, on that evening, to partake of the family's friendly and sociable hospitality. Yes--we use the words friendly and sociable hospitality; for the van Gulpendams, with all their faults, were very hospitable, and could be most friendly and sociable. Of course their intense worldliness and love of display had a great deal to do with their hospitality; but it was so tempered by the bon-ton of both host and hostess that, on such evenings as this, their ostentation was hardly, if at all, perceptible. This was to be a friendly and sociable evening. On such evenings not every one had the entrée of the Residence; they were, in fact, quite different from the grand official receptions.

These formal receptions took place regularly, once a week, on Wednesday. Then lower officials, subaltern officers, leading men of commerce, planters, strangers, in one word mere official visitors were received. On these grand occasions the Lord Resident would appear in state, clad in light-blue cloth coat with silver buttons, in white cashmere trousers, in all the splendour, in short, which his high office could shed upon poor mortal man. Then also his handsome wife decked out in all her jewellery would flaunt about like a gorgeous peacock. But at such receptions not a gleam, not a vestige of friendliness or sociability could be discovered within the walls of the house. Then on the one side, there was nothing but pride, conceit and arrogance, and, on the other, all was humility and obsequious cringing with here and there a little touch of half-concealed mockery. But the ordinary evening gatherings were for intimate friends and highly-placed officials who, by reason of their position or wealth, could venture familiarly to approach the Residential throne. Invitations there were none; but certain dignitaries were sure to put in an appearance, such as the Commandant of the garrison who was a Colonel at least, the President of the High Court of Justice, the Chief of the Medical Staff, the President of the Local Board of Trade, and such like. All these good people came without ceremony, without compliment, stood and chatted for a moment or two with Mrs. van Gulpendam or said a few pretty things to her fair daughter, shook hands with the Resident in a friendly way, talked over the bits of news of the day and then settled down at the little card-tables for a quiet game. As a rule Mrs. van Gulpendam would take a hand, and, it must be said, that she was by no means amongst the least lucky of the players, especially when, towards the end of the evening, the play began to run rather high. Of this love of play dear little Anna used to make excellent use. As soon as she had seen the guests properly attended to, she would slip away indoors, take her seat at her piano, and there would give herself up to the full enjoyment of Chopin or Beethoven or Mozart, whose masterpieces the young girl revelled in and would study with the enthusiasm of a born musician.

Such was to be this evening's programme, though as the sequel will show, the music was to serve quite another purpose.

When the "Oppas" had, in minute detail, reported all he had learnt to know about poor Ardjan, and how he had conveyed the Javanese who was in a burning fever, to the hospital to be there further taken care of--the countenance of his chief brightened up wonderfully.

"The deuce, the deuce," he muttered between his teeth, "that bit of a joke with the devil-nettle may come to cost Lim Ho's worthy papa a pretty penny!"

From a distance Mrs. van Gulpendam was eagerly watching the emotions which were pretty clearly reflected on her husband's countenance. But the good humour of the Resident rose to absolute satisfaction when the man went on reporting to him that his people, with the assistance of the inhabitants of the dessa, had discovered certain small casks and tins carefully stowed away in the dense underwood, and which, in all probability, contained opium.

"Who, do you say, found these things?" asked the Resident.

"Oh!" said the Oppas, "all of us."

"What," fell in van Gulpendam, somewhat taken aback, "did the dessa folk see them as well as you?"

"Engèh (yes), Kandjeng toean," replied the man, who was seated cross-legged in front of his master.

The reply evidently did not please his excellency at all, and his displeasure was plainly reflected in his face.

"And where did you make this haul?" he continued. "Have you brought it along with you?"

"Pardon me, Kandjeng toean," replied the Oppas, "I had the things taken to the chief inspector of police."

"Stupid ass!" muttered van Gulpendam almost inaudibly.

"Engèh, Kandjeng toean," was the stolid reply--the man did not understand the epithet.

The word "Engèh" is always in the mouth of a Javanese whenever he addresses a European. He will give that answer even when he has not understood a word of what has been said to him, and it must not be taken to express any opinion of his own, but it is simply a meaningless and polite kind of consent to whatever his superior may choose to say to him. Van Gulpendam thoroughly knew the Javanese character, and was therefore not the least surprised at his man's answer.

"Go," said he, "to the inspector and tell him that I want him to come to me at once." The servant still retaining his posture, pushed himself backward for a few paces, then sprang up and hurried off to carry out his master's order. A few moments later, after the usual greetings and compliments had been exchanged, the conversation became general.

Anna seized this opportunity, and quietly slipped away, scarcely noticed by any one present. Dalima, she knew, had returned, and she was full of curiosity to hear what had become of Ardjan. She had managed to overhear a few scraps of her father's conversation with the "Oppas," but had not been able to get at the truth of the story. When she reached the pandoppo she found Dalima there, seated, cross-legged as usual, but with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"What in the world has happened to you, Dalima?" cried she. "Do tell us all about it."

"O Nana," cried the poor girl, "they have abused my Ardjan so shamefully!"

And thereupon she told her mistress in what a pitiable state she had found her lover. "Oh," she sobbed, "if I could have got there a little sooner!"

"But, who has treated him so dreadfully?" cried Anna full of sympathy.

"Lim Ho," replied Dalima.

"Lim Ho?" said Anna. "Why, what was he doing there?"

"That I can't tell you," replied the girl. "All I can say is that I recognised him quite plainly as he was rowed past the djaga monjet 'out of the Moeara Tjatjing.'"

"Oh, you may have been mistaken, Dalima," said her young mistress.

"Mistaken, Nana! Oh no," replied the girl. "I could see him clench his fist in anger when he caught sight of me. I feel sure, indeed, he would have put back had he dared; and the few words Ardjan could speak have made me certain it was he."

"But," asked Anna, "what could have induced him to torture the poor fellow so unmercifully with the kamadoog?"

"I am sure I don't know," said Dalima, colouring; "perhaps it was because Ardjan is my sweetheart; it may be because he rescued me from the Kiem Ping Hin. Oh, dearest Nana," continued the poor girl, with a flood of tears, "poor dear Ardjan has gone mad, he does nothing but rave."

"And where is he now?" asked Anna, striving to quiet the sobbing girl.

"He is in the hospital; the police took him there after they had gone to fetch the inspector."

"The inspector?" cried Anna. "What had he to do with it?"

"The men took some small casks and some tins which they had found, to his house," was Dalima's reply.

"Opium!" exclaimed Anna, now really frightened. "Where did they find the horrid stuff?"

"They found it close to the hut where Ardjan was tortured."

"Close to the hut, you say," cried Anna. "They found it at the same time that they discovered Ardjan?"

"Yes, Na," faltered Dalima, scarcely audibly.

For a moment the fair girl stood as if lost in thought. "I hope it will not compromise poor Ardjan," said she, musingly, and then, having collected her thoughts, she again turned to Dalima, and said:

"Were you quite alone with Ardjan when you left the ship in the djoekoeng?"

"Quite alone, Nana."

"You are sure, there was nothing in the djoekoeng when you got into her? Now think well."

"Quite sure, Nana, nothing whatever," replied Dalima. "How could there be? We slid along a bit of rope into the boat, while the storm was howling all round us, and glad enough we were to get out of the ship and away from her as soon as possible."

Nonna Anna reflected for a few moments. Then she started as if a sudden thought had struck her, ran into her own room, which adjoined the pandoppo, and soon returned carrying with her a writing case. She put it down before one of the lamps which were burning there, and hurriedly scribbled a little note. When she had sealed it, she handed it to the maid, and said:

"Now, Dalima, listen to me. Do you really love Ardjan, and are you anxious to save him?"

"Oh, Nana," cried the poor girl, ready again to burst into tears; "how can you ask that?"

"Very well," said Anna, quietly, "then take this note to Mr. van Nerekool, you understand?"

"Oh yes, I know," cried the girl; "he lives in Aboe Street close by the Catholic Church. But it is so far away, and it is now so late."

"Then you had better tell Sodikromo, the gardener's boy, to go with you," said Anna. "You can take a 'sâdos' (dos-à-dos) and you will soon be there and back--So now quick--make haste."

It did not take Sodikromo long to get the vehicle ready, and soon he and Dalima were on their way with the nonna's message.

While this was going on in the pandoppo, Mr. and Mrs. van Gulpendam were receiving their guests, who kept on gradually arriving, with the courtesy and suavity they could so well put on.

"Well, that is kind of you, colonel, I call it really very kind of you to remain faithful to our little party," said Laurentia to a gentleman who had just come in. He was in plain clothes; but his bearing and his white hair closely clipped and his bristling moustache plainly proclaimed him a soldier.

"And why, madam," replied he, "what may have led you to suppose that I would have denied myself the pleasure of presenting myself here to-night?"

"Van Gulpendam has told me," replied the hostess, "that there has been very ugly news from Atjeh, and that a considerable part of our garrison would have to leave. So I took it for granted that you would be much too busy to--"

"Do what, madam?" said the colonel, smiling.

"To come and take my hand here as usual?"

"By no means, I can assure you that a good deal would have to happen before I would forego the pleasure of your charming society. Oh, no," he continued, "I have given my orders--the rest, the chief of my staff will see to."

"And you," said Laurentia, turning to another of her newly-arrived guests, "have not these sad tidings given you a great deal to do? A very large medical staff will have to accompany the expedition--at least, as member of the Red Cross I have received some such intimation from Batavia."

"No, madam," replied the gentleman thus addressed, who was chief medical officer at Santjoemeh. "I have not to complain of overwork. Every provision for our expedition to Atjeh has been made and I need not trouble my head about it any more. But, for all that, I can assure you that I was in real danger of being obliged to miss your pleasant party this evening."

"Indeed," said Laurentia, with much assumed interest, "I hope there is no case of serious illness among our friends, doctor?"

"I am glad to say there is not, madam," replied the doctor. "But, as I was at my dinner this afternoon, the young surgeon on duty at the hospital came running in to tell me that I was urgently wanted. A young native, he said, had been brought in by the police, who was in a most dreadful condition, suffering from something which completely puzzled him. His diagnostica was altogether at fault."

"His--what was at fault, did you say, doctor?" enquired Mrs van Gulpendam.

"His diagnostica, madam," replied the surgeon. "That is the name, you know, we give to the science by which we recognize a special form of disease. Well, as the young fellow assured me that the patient was in an extremely critical state--in fact in extremis--I had no choice but to go and see him. You know, dear madam," proceeded the surgeon, sententiously, "a physician's devotion must be that of a priest."

"Oh, I know, of course," replied Laurentia, with a slight smile; "but pray go on."

"Well," continued the surgeon, "I went all the way to the hospital. And now, just guess what was the matter!--Oh, those young doctors of the new school! The fellow had his mouth full of fine words--of absent diaeresis, of efflorescentia, of formicatio, of hemianthropia, and what not. But he couldn't see with all his brand new science, that he had to do with a very simple--though I must own--a most severe case of urtication."

"A severe case of what?" enquired Laurentia.

"Why, madam, of urtication," replied the doctor, "the man had undergone, somehow or other, a most severe flogging with nettle-leaves."

"Nettle-leaves!" exclaimed van Gulpendam, breaking into the conversation, his interest being thoroughly aroused at the doctor's words. "These things," he continued, "are called in Javanese, I think, Kamadoog--are they not, doctor?"

"Precisely so, Resident, you are quite right," was the surgeon's reply.

"Pray, doctor, do go on with your story," said van Gulpendam. "Ten knots an hour if you please."

"Well," said the doctor, "that foolish young fellow might have let me finish my dinner in peace. There was nothing to be done in the case but what the people of the dessa had done already, the parts most afflicted had to be covered with sirih-chalk and the other parts with oil. It was very simple. The man was, of course, in a burning fever, but I need not have been disturbed for that, there are antifebrilia and antidinika in abundance in store, he might have administered them without calling me in."

"And how long," asked van Gulpendam, somewhat eagerly, "do the effects of such an urtication, as you call it, last?"

"Oh, that is impossible to say, that depends entirely upon how the nettle has been applied. This patient of ours has had an uncommonly heavy dose of it, and, in my opinion, the fever will last some forty-eight hours. Then, I hope, it will abate, but it will be quite a fortnight before the man is on his legs again."

"A fortnight," said van Gulpendam, with a frown. "Why, that is a long time."

"Yes," said the surgeon, "it will be quite a fortnight, and then only if all goes well."

"And tell me," continued the Resident, "will it leave any serious consequences?"

"None whatever, my dear sir. If the patient once gets well over the fever, there will be none."

"But surely," insisted van Gulpendam, "there will be scars and the skin will be discoloured."

"Certainly not--nothing of the kind," replied the other.

"So that," continued the Resident, "after the cure there will be no visible proofs of the treatment he has received?"

"There will be none. But, Resident, why all these questions? Perhaps you take some special interest in the man?"

"Not I," said van Gulpendam, carelessly, but yet with some confusion. "Why should I? I know nothing about the case, I have heard nothing about it; but I have heard so much of the terrible effects of the Hoekoem Kamadoog that I often have wished to learn something more about it."

Other guests were arriving, and so the conversation dropped. After the usual greetings the card-tables were occupied, while Anna was busying herself at the tea-table. Play had, however, scarcely begun before the chief inspector of police was announced. He paid his respects to the lady of the house, interchanged a few words with some of his acquaintance, and then turning to the Resident he said: "I beg your pardon, sir, for thus disturbing you; but the message I received, left me no choice but to intrude myself upon you at once."

"Quite right, quite right, Mr. Meidema," said the host, as he rose from his seat and turning to his partners he said: "Gentlemen, you must oblige me by playing a three-handed game for a few minutes, I have urgent business with Mr. Meidema."

The two officials entered a side-chamber which opened upon the gallery, and after having carefully shut the door, Mr. van Gulpendam, without preface whatever, said to the inspector:

"Mr. Meidema, you have made a considerable capture of opium to-day, I hear."

"Yes, Resident," was the reply, "three buttertubs full, and fifteen tins have been delivered into my custody. In the tubs the opium was packed just like butter, one little tub of ten kilos, inside a larger one, and surrounded by coarse salt. The tins contain about five kilos each. The whole amounts to about one and a half 'pikols.'"

"So, so," said van Gulpendam, "that is a pretty good haul."

"Which are worth," continued Meidema, "I should say, about nine thousand guilders."

"How do you make that out?" asked the Resident. "You know Government delivers the raw opium to the farmers at the rate of 30 guilders the kattie. Now, 30 × 150, is, according to my reckoning, no more than four thousand five hundred guilders. I am right, am I not?"

"You are perfectly right, sir," replied Meidema. "But you must remember that this is not raw material. We have got hold of tjandoe, and you know, I suppose, that one kattie of raw opium gives only fifteen thirty second parts of pure tjandoe."

"I daresay you are right," said the other. "But," he added, fixing a very strange look upon his inspector, "are you quite sure it is opium?"

Without appearing to notice his superior officer's look, Meidema answered at once: "It is something better than that, sir, it is tjandoe. Look at the sample, I have one here with me. It is the purest Bengal article."

"Hadn't we better," said van Gulpendam, "submit that sample to a chemist for analysis?"

"Just as you please," said Meidema; "but I see not the slightest need for that. It is tjandoe, and it contains, at least, twenty or thirty per cent of morphia."

"Indeed," quoth van Gulpendam. "I was only thinking--Well, it is your business, you know what is best. The contraband has been placed in your custody. You know, I suppose, where it came from?"

"Oh yes, sir, I know where it came from. Your chief servant told me that it was put on shore from the Kiem Ping Hin, and you know--"

"From the Kiem Ping Hin," hastily exclaimed van Gulpendam. "What makes you think that?"

"What makes me think that?" slowly repeated Meidema. "Why, Resident, I told you just now your chief servant told me so."

"Man, man," cried the Resident, in a loud voice.

The servant thus summoned appeared; and then turning to Mr. Meidema and pointing to the Javanese, the Resident said: "Is that the man who told you this?"

"Yes, sir," said Meidema, "that is the man."

"Man," said the Resident, as he sternly fixed his eye upon his Javanese servant, "that opium which you delivered to the toean Inspector, was found upon Ardjan--was it not?"

"Engèh, Kandjeng toean," was the man's reply. "But"--

"I will have no 'buts,'" cried van Gulpendam, "simply yes or no."

"Engèh, Kandjeng toean," said the man again stolidly.

"You hear it, Mr. Meidema?"

"Oh yes, Resident, I hear it," replied the inspector, in a strange tone of voice.

"Very well, then," continued his superior officer, "you will please to draw up your official report in accordance with that man's evidence."

"But, sir--" began the other.

"I will have no 'buts,'" interrupted van Gulpendam, sharply. "All you have to do is to do your duty."

"Have you any other commands for me, Resident?" drily asked the inspector, with a stiff bow.

"No, thank you--none at present."

A few moments later the card parties were in full swing, and Laurentia, who was holding splendid hands, was in unusually high spirits, and exceedingly talkative.

"Humph," muttered her husband, as he took his seat at his own table. "She is beginning rather early--rather too early I am afraid."

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V. MUSIC HATH CHARMS

Just as Mr. Meidema was leaving the Residence in his brougham, another carriage drove up and Mr. van Nerekool walked up the steps which gave access to the gallery in which the company was assembled.

It may have struck the reader as somewhat strange that so young, so well-educated and so refined a girl as Anna van Gulpendam assuredly was, should have ventured to write to the young lawyer, and strange also that the latter should so speedily have answered her summons in person. But, in the first place, it is well to remember that, when she wrote that letter Anna, completely carried away by the sore distress of Dalima, and, in the kindness of her heart, most anxious to do what she could for her favourite servant, acted purely upon impulse; and had not stopped to consider that perhaps her action might be looked upon as somewhat forward and indelicate. Further it must be said, that although never a word of love had passed between them, yet they were united in the very strongest bond of sympathy--such sympathy as always will draw together true and noble natures whenever they happen to meet. As they were themselves perfectly honest and guileless; no paltry suspicions could possibly arise on either side. That this strong bond of sympathy did exist between Anna van Gulpendam and young Mr. van Nerekool, cannot be denied; but for the present at least, there was no more than this. Whether or not that bond would ever be drawn closer and give place to more intimate and tender relations the sequel will show.

"Good evening, madam," said van Nerekool as he made his bow to the hostess, "I hope I have the pleasure of finding you well."

"There's that fool again! What has that booby come on board for I wonder?" grumbled van Gulpendam, while fair Laurentia answered the young man's greeting as amiably as possible.

"Well, Mr. van Nerekool, this is indeed kind of you," said she. "We are glad to see you! You do not wear out your welcome. We only too seldom have the pleasure of seeing you!"

"Very good indeed of you to say so, Mrs. van Gulpendam; but, you know, I don't much care for cards and, in the presence of such an adept as you are, I cannot help feeling myself, to say the least, somewhat of a fâcheux troisième." As he was speaking his eye at a glance took in the whole company but failed to light on her whom it sought. So turning to the gentlemen he said: "Well, Resident, I need not enquire after you, nor after your health, colonel, nor yours, my dear doctor; anyone can see there is not much the matter with you. How are the cards serving you this evening? I hope you are in luck," continued he to the secretary seated at the other table.

"Not over well," muttered van Nes. "I was getting on pretty fairly just at first but--"

"Ah, Mr. van Nerekool," cried Mrs. van Gulpendam in the best of spirits; "you should have come a few minutes earlier, you should have seen my last hand. Why I held--"

"Will Mr. van Nerekool take tea or coffee?" said a silvery voice interrupting the threatened explanation.

The young man turned at once. "Good evening, Miss Anna," said he most heartily. "How are you? But I need not ask, you look like a fresh-blown Devonshire rose, so charming, so--"

"Will you take tea or coffee?" said Anna, demurely, with an arch smile at the young man's compliments.

"Did you make the coffee yourself, Miss Anna?"

"Oh, no," replied the still smiling girl, "our cook always makes it."

"And the tea?" asked van Nerekool also with a smile.

"Yes, that is my department, Mr. van Nerekool."

"I will take a cup of tea if you please."

"Our cook makes most excellent coffee, I assure you," cried Mrs. van Gulpendam.

"I don't doubt it," replied the young man, with a slight bow. "I do not for a moment question her talent, madam; but, if you will allow me, I prefer a cup of tea. It reminds one of home, you know. If you please, Miss Anna, may I ask you for a cup of tea?"

"On one condition," said the young girl, playfully.

"It is granted at once," replied the young man. "Now, what is it?"

"That you will presently accompany me in 'Fleurs d'oranger.' You know Ludovic's charming duet, do you not?"

Van Nerekool made a wry face and slightly raised his hands in a deprecating manner.

"Oh," continued the young girl, laughing. "You may look as solemn as a judge on the bench; but I won't let you off. The 'Fleurs d'oranger' or no tea--there you have my ultimatum. My ultimatum, that is what they call the last word before a declaration of war, don't they, colonel?"

"Quite right, Miss Anna," said the old soldier, who, wholly engrossed in his cards, had heard nothing but the last words of the question.

"An ultimatum," cried van Nerekool, "a declaration of war? Who would be so mad as to declare war against you? No, no; sooner than be suspected of that I would play 'Fleurs d'oranger' the whole evening!"

"There you go to the other extreme," laughed Anna, "that is always the way with you lawyers, at least papa says so; you are always finding paragons of perfection or else monsters of iniquity."

"No, no, we are not so bad as all that, Miss Anna!" said van Nerekool. "But will you allow me for a few moments to watch your mother's play and take a lesson from her?"

"Do so, by all means," said Anna, "meanwhile I must go and pour out the tea and see to the other refreshments, and when I have done I mean to play a sonata of Beethoven."

"Beethoven!" cried van Nerekool, "most delightful, Miss Anna, do let me beg of you to give us the second sonata in D dur Op. 36."

"What tyrants you gentlemen are," replied the young girl. "Very well, you shall have your sonata, but, after that, remember, 'Fleurs d'oranger.' Now go and take your lesson."

The young lawyer went and took a seat behind Mrs. van Gulpendam's chair, and, although he did not pretend to any great knowledge of cards, yet he could not help admiring that lady's fine and close play, while Anna did the honours of the tea-table, and was busily tripping about to see that the servants did not neglect their duties, and that the guests were properly attended to.

As he was seated there behind fair Laurentia, and was attentively studying her cards, the glow of light which numerous splendid chandeliers shed over the entire gallery, finely brought out his clearly cut profile.

Charles van Nerekool was a man of five or six and twenty years of age. After he had most honourably completed his studies at the university of Leyden, he had been appointed junior member of the Court of Justice at Santjoemeh when, a few months back, he had arrived from Holland.

He was a tall, fair-haired man, scrupulously neat in his attire, and most careful of his personal appearance. His fine, sharply chiselled features had not yet lost their European freshness and bloom, and were well set off by a thick curly beard and moustache, some shades lighter than his hair. His winning manners, which were those of a courteous and highly-bred gentleman, perfectly harmonized with his handsome countenance, and he was universally esteemed an accomplished and most agreeable companion. But, though society had justly formed a high opinion of him, there was one point in his character which would not allow him ever to become a popular man. He was a lawyer in the truest and noblest sense of the word. A man who, deeply versed in the law, yet would tolerate nothing that was not strictly just and upright. Quibbling and casuistry had no attractions for him; he was, in fact, honest as gold and true as a diamond.

Hence his manner of speech was always frank and straightforward--oftentimes he was too plain spoken, for he would not and could not condescend to wrap up his real sentiments in fine words or ambiguous phrases. Anyone therefore, who has the slightest knowledge of the present state of society, may readily understand why the number of his real friends was but small. A strict sense of justice, a noble frankness of expression, and an intense love of truth, for truth's sake, are, unfortunately, not the qualities which serve to push a man forward most quickly in the official world--at least not in the official world of India. Van Gulpendam, especially--though he could not close his doors to a man in van Nerekool's position, heartily detested him, and had repeatedly expressed his dislike to the old judge who presided over the Council at Santjoemeh.

"Ah well!" this latter had, on one occasion, said to him, "you are rather too hard upon our young colleague. Remember this Mr. van Nerekool is but a newly fledged chicken. You will see when he has been here a year or two he will turn out a very useful fellow indeed. Why, every one of us had, at his age, just those fine idealistic views of life which he now holds."

This answer made our worthy friend, van Gulpendam, look rather queer. His conscience, at any rate, did not accuse him of fine principles and idealistic views,--not such views, at least, as those for which he found fault with van Nerekool.

The young man was still seated behind Laurentia's chair, attentively keeping his eye on her cards.

"I cannot say," said the lady with a forced smile, "that you improve my luck. Since you have been sitting there I have scarcely picked up a card worth looking at. I wish you would go and have a look at the Resident's hand.--"

"Thank you," cried her husband, "much obliged, you want to give me a spell of bad fortune."

There are no more superstitious people in the world than your veteran card-players.

At Mrs. van Gulpendam's not very reasonable or very courteous remark, van Nerekool had of course risen, and the Resident's exclamation made him feel rather awkward; he did not, in fact, very well know what to do, when the young lady of the house came to the rescue.

"Now Mr. van Nerekool," said she, "my 'Fleurs d'oranger!' what has become of them? It is time to begin, I think."

"And my sonata in D dur," replied the young man, "what has become of it? I have not heard a single note of it yet."

"True," she said, "I had quite forgotten it; come and turn over the music for me."

"Yes, that's right," said fair Laurentia, "you go and turn over the music," and for an instant she looked at the young people as they retired together and then fixed her eyes once again upon her cards.

"Now, you see," continued she, "what did I tell you, no sooner has he turned his back than I get quite different cards!"

"Oh," muttered van Gulpendam from his table, "I can't bear to have a fellow prying into my hand. If he does not wish to play what does the booby want to come here for at all, I wonder?"

"H'm," said the old colonel, "perhaps he is anxious to learn."

"To learn," contemptuously echoed van Gulpendam, "he will never be any good at cards, he is not practical enough for that!"

"I quite agree with you, Resident," said the judge somewhat drily, "a man who is not of a practical turn of mind will never make much of a hand at cards."

"No, nor at anything else either," grumbled van Gulpendam; "come, let us go on with the game. It is my lead. Hearts, I say."

The two young people had entered the inner gallery and were no sooner out of sight of the company, before van Nerekool began:

"I have received your note, Miss Anna, and, as you see, I have hastened to obey your summons."

"For goodness sake speak lower," whispered she. And then in her usual tone of voice she continued: "Just help me, please, to find the music."

Whilst they were engaged in taking the pieces one by one out of a curiously carved étagère which stood by the piano and examining them, the young girl said in a whisper: "Yesterday our baboe Dalima was forcibly carried away out of the garden--Hush! do not interrupt me or I shall not have time to tell you all. The author of the outrage is Lim Ho. She has, however, been most providentially rescued by Ardjan, the man to whom she is engaged to be married. Thereupon Lim Ho has had him most fearfully tortured with Kamadoog leaves--so dreadfully that he is now in the hospital--"

"Look here, Miss Anna, I have found your 'Fleurs d'oranger,'" said van Nerekool aloud as he heard some one moving outside.

"Yes, thank you," replied Anna. "But what can have become of that sonata? Here it is," she continued in the same tone of voice, "I have it; but pray, Mr. van Nerekool, put that heavy pile of music on the piano."

"Oh," said he, "you intend to give us the sonata before the waltz?"

"Yes," said Anna, "that is best I think;" and then she continued softly, "I know that sonata so perfectly that I can go on talking while I am playing it by heart."

She sat down to the instrument, van Nerekool standing close by her side ready to turn over the leaves for her.

Anna struck the first notes of Beethoven's magnificent work while she continued: "As I was telling you, Ardjan had to be taken to the hospital in consequence of the brutal treatment he had received. But that is not what made me write to you."

"What was it then?" whispered van Nerekool eagerly. "I am all ears, Miss Anna."

"Well then," said she, "pay attention to me."

And while the nimble fingers of the talented girl ran over the keys, while she rendered in most masterly style the lovely reveries of the inspired musician--strains which full of sweetness yet here and there seem clouded by the great gloom which was impending over the author's future life--she told the young man the whole story of Dalima's abduction, of her rescue by Ardjan, in what wretched plight the poor Javanese had been found, and she told him also that close by the place where they found him a considerable quantity of smuggled opium had been discovered, and had been delivered into the custody of the chief inspector of police.

Van Nerekool had not for a single instant turned his eye from the music, he had never once made a mistake in turning over the pages; but yet he had been listening so attentively that not a single word had escaped his ears. At the ill-omened word opium his countenance fell. The young girl noticed the change of expression though she did not allow her emotion to influence her play. Indeed she executed the final movement of the sonata--that brilliant movement in which a very flood of fancies all seem to unite in conveying the idea of perfect bliss--in so faultless and spirited a manner, that the card-players in the outer gallery, pausing for a few moments in their game to listen, broke out in a loud chorus of applause.

"But do you know for certain, Miss Anna," said van Nerekool, under cover of the noise, "that it was opium?"

"How should I know?" replied she before the clamour had subsided.

"But was that opium brought ashore by Ardjan and Dalima?"

"Most certainly not," said she in a whisper, "there was nothing of the kind in the djoekoeng in which they came to land."

"How then did the stuff get there?" asked van Nerekool.

"Dalima could tell me nothing about it," continued the young girl. "And now," she went on in her usual tone of voice, "now for the 'Fleurs d'oranger!'"

"But," insisted van Nerekool in a scarcely audible whisper, "what makes you fear that Ardjan will be suspected? As far as I can see there is not a shadow of a suspicion against him, unless--"

"Hush!" said Anna, "presently--"

And then, as a pleasant sequel to Beethoven's sublime melody, the sparkling notes of the delightful waltz were heard filling both galleries with gay and pleasant music.

While the last chords were still re-echoing, the young girl answered van Nerekool's question: "Just now," said she, "Mr. Meidema was with my father and--" dear little Anna paused and hesitated.

"And?" said van Nerekool. "Come, Miss Anna, you must tell me all."

"I overheard part of their conversation--"

"Oh," said he, "you listened just a little bit?"

The poor girl blushed deeply, face, neck and ears were covered with the glow. "Well yes," said she resolutely, "I did listen. I had heard my father ordering the Oppas to go and fetch Mr. Meidema and somehow I could not get rid of the suspicion that it had something to do with Ardjan. When the inspector called I got behind the screen which masks the door and--"

"Well, yes, Miss Anna, go on, you must tell me all."

"And then I heard all they said," continued she.

"What did you hear?" asked the young man, eagerly.

"All they said," she replied.

"Yes; but," continued he, "what did they talk about?"

"Oh! Mr. van Nerekool," said Anna, "I really cannot tell you all that passed."

"Perhaps not; but yet you can remember the gist of their words. Do try, Miss Anna."

"Mr. van Nerekool," said she; "I am not at all sure that I have a right to--"

"But my dear Miss Anna, why then did you send for me? Just ask yourself that question?"

"Oh!" sighed Anna, "I was so over-anxious to save Dalima's lover."

"Just so," replied he; "I can quite understand that; but in what way can I possibly serve you unless you will trust me with all that took place? As far as I can see at present, there seems not the remotest reason why Ardjan should be accused of this smuggling business. Do pray trust me, Miss Anna!"

"Oh! how I wish I could!" sighed the poor girl again. "How I wish I could; but it is so very hard."

"What is your difficulty?" insisted the young man.

"That conversation between my father and Mr. Meidema," replied she.

"But come," she continued; "you are right; you must know everything or nothing. I will tell you all."

Thereupon, burning with shame, the young girl repeated just what had passed between the two officials. She concealed nothing--neither the supposed value of the smuggled wares, nor Meidema's suspicions as to their source, nor the examination of the chief servant. But when she came to reveal the fact that her father had, in a manner, forced the policeman to accuse Ardjan, the poor girl almost broke down.

Van Nerekool understood her confusion but too well, he knew enough and felt too deeply how humiliating was her position to wish to prolong the conversation. But before dismissing the subject he said:

"Just now you told me that Mr. Meidema had mentioned the name of the ship from whence he suspected the opium to have been brought. Do you happen to remember it?"

"Yes," said Anna; "I believe it was Hing Kim Lin, or Lin King Him, or something of that kind."

"Was it perhaps Kiem Ping Hin?" asked the lawyer, in a very grave voice. "Now think well before you answer."

"Yes, Mr. van Nerekool," she cried still in the same subdued tones, "that was the name."

The young man could not suppress a sigh as he looked down sadly at the fair girl beside him.

"Why do you look so strangely at me?" asked Anna in some alarm.

"Do you know to whom this Kiem Ping Hin belongs?" he asked.

"No," said she; "how should I?"

"Well, then, the Kiem Ping Hin belongs to Lim Ho."

"To Lim Ho? what, to the son of the opium farmer?" cried the girl, covering her face with her hands as if she were trying to hide herself.

"That is the man," replied van Nerekool, as he looked down anxiously at her.

Then Anna remembered the infamous dialogue between her parents at which that morning she had been present. The hot tears of shame came rushing into her eyes, forced their way through her closed fingers and went trickling down her shapely hands as she sobbed out:

"Oh, my God! my God!"

"Miss Anna, dear Miss Anna," said van Nerekool, deeply moved at the sight of her grief; "do be calm; pray, do not despair. I will do all I possibly can to save that unfortunate man. I promise you that solemnly."

"But, my father," cried Anna, as she hurriedly with her handkerchief tried to wipe away the tears which were still flowing fast. "But, my father?"

"Not a word of all this to him."

"Oh! no; Mr. van Nerekool," said she, "I do not mean that; but will this wretched business compromise him in any way?"

"Not if I can help it," replied he; "I shall do my best to arrange matters so as to leave him out of the question altogether. Trust me."

"Thank you, thank you," said Anna. "Now let us say no more. I will go in and try to hide my feelings; you had better remain at the piano for awhile."

"Yes," said he, "I shall go on playing something or other and then I will take my leave."

In a quarter of an hour or so, van Nerekool was again standing behind the card-players. The game was nearly over, they were just having the last round and soon the company began to break up.

"Really, Mrs. van Gulpendam has too much luck," said the old colonel, as he sat ruefully looking at the few scattered counters he had before him.

Presently all had taken their leave and the Resident was standing looking out at the departing guests when he heard a subdued voice saying behind him:

"May I be allowed to say something, Kandjeng toean?"

Van Gulpendam turned and saw his chief servant seated cross-legged beside him.

"What have you got to tell me?" asked he, abruptly.

"I made a mistake just now, Kandjeng toean," was the man's reply.

"A mistake," said the Resident; "what do you mean?"

"When I told the inspector toean that the opium was found on Ardjan."

"Brute!" roared van Gulpendam. "If you dare to retract your words I give you the sack--I shall have you clapped into prison. Do you hear me?"

"Engèh, Kandjeng toean," said the poor native with his usual drawl, and placing his folded hands upon his forehead he respectfully and submissively made his "sembah" (salaam).

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VI. A LUCKY DAY

Van Nerekool's interference was destined to bear very little fruit; but, on the other hand, it involved him in the most serious troubles. He was so young, he was so utterly without experience of all the complicated mazes of injustice which, in Dutch India, are found in both the judicial and administrative departments as soon as ever these are brought into contact with anything that touches the great Opium monopoly.

A few weeks after his conversation with Anna van Gulpendam, she told him, on the occasion of another visit which he paid to her family, that Ardjan had been discharged from the hospital, but only to be immediately committed to jail. Thereupon, van Nerekool began to make inquiries from the President of the Council at Santjoemeh, and from him he heard that the Javanese was lying in prison on an accusation of smuggling opium in considerable quantities.

"But," added the President, Mr. Zuidhoorn, "there is, in this case, one very curious feature, which I do not at all understand."

"Indeed," said van Nerekool, "what may that be?"

"Why, it is this," said Mr. Zuidhoorn. "Last week I received a letter from the Resident, in which he tells me in what order and on what dates he wants us to take the cases we have before us."

"Why," cried van Nerekool, "he has no right whatever to do that--such dictation is perfectly illegal--it is directly contrary to the law!"

"Precisely so," continued Zuidhoorn. "And, as you may suppose, I have flatly refused to obey his directions. But listen further. On that list of his, Ardjan's trial is put the very last of all. Can you make that out?"

"Well," said van Nerekool, "I daresay it is because he has no proofs against the man. In fact, I feel persuaded that it is a mere trumped up case, and knowing that it is so, he wishes to keep the man as long as possible in custody, so that when ultimately he is acquitted, he may have the satisfaction of saying: the fellow has been so many months locked up for my pleasure."

Mr. Zuidhoorn cast a sharp look at his young colleague. "It may be so," said he, after a pause, "however, that is not the view I take of the matter."

"Indeed," said the other, "what, then, is your opinion?"

"Well," said Mr. Zuidhoorn, "you know, I suppose, that I have applied for leave of absence on account of my health, and that I am going to Holland?"

"I have heard so," replied the young man; "but what of that?"

"What of that?" repeated the President. "Don't you see! If the cases should be taken in the order van Gulpendam directs, why then, we have so many of them that Ardjan cannot possibly be tried before six or eight weeks."

"Certainly, I see that," said van Nerekool; "but--"

"You see," continued the President, "by that time I shall be far enough away."

"Quite so," rejoined the other; "but what does that matter? I suppose some other judge will be appointed in your place to preside at Santjoemeh, while you are absent."

A bitter smile curled the lip of Mr. Zuidhoorn. "Who knows?" said he, "where that substitute may have to come from. Travelling in India is a slow business. If, for instance, Mr. Raabtoon were called from Padang, or Mr. Nellens had to come from Makassar, why, there are two months gone before either of them can be properly installed, and meanwhile--"

"Meanwhile," interrupted van Nerekool, "they may appoint some other member of the court for the time being, to get through the unfinished cases."

"Yes," replied Mr. Zuidhoorn. "They could do that no doubt; but they will not. You know well enough that in case of absence on leave, the Resident has the power himself to preside at the Council."

"Yes," said van Nerekool; "what if he did?"

"If he did," continued Mr. Zuidhoorn, "it is obvious enough what would happen. As soon as I am gone, the Resident will take Ardjan's case himself."

"But, my dear sir," said van Nerekool, "why should he do such a thing?"

"How can I tell why?" replied the other. "You recollect how, some time ago, a colonial minister wrote to the king and drew his majesty's attention to the fact that officials are systematically bribed by the opium farmers, and that thus the authority of those who have to carry out the laws is undermined, seeing that they are wholly under the influence of the Chinese opium farmers and smugglers. Look you, my dear sir, I have much more experience in these matters than you can have, and when I come to consider the evident anxiety there seems to exist at headquarters, to have this case of Ardjan's put off to the last, then I cannot but suspect that an attempt is being made to get the case out of the hands of the unprejudiced and competent judge."

"But," exclaimed van Nerekool, indignantly, "that is most monstrous, it is infamous."

"No doubt it is," quietly said the President.

"And what course have you taken?" asked van Nerekool.

"I have taken the only course I could take," replied Mr. Zuidhoorn. "I have simply done my duty. I have already told you that I have flatly refused to put off the case. It will, therefore, come before us in its proper turn, that is to say, about Tuesday fortnight."

It was not, however, to be so.

A few days before the above conversation took place between the legal officials, the Resident, Mr. van Gulpendam, received an unexpected visit.

Yes, the visit was a wholly unexpected one, for it was Sunday, and about two o'clock in the afternoon, at a time when, of all others, no man in Dutch India looks to be disturbed. About eleven o'clock that same morning, Mr. van Gulpendam had gone to his club, and had amused himself with a game or two at billiards. He liked to show his subordinates that, though he had not cruised about Delft or Leyden, he yet was just as handy as they were at cutting a ball into the middle pocket, and had not forgotten how to put on side. About one o'clock, he had gone home, had made an excellent and hearty luncheon, and then, in the pleasing consciousness of being able to enjoy the Lord's Day undisturbed, had put on his pyjamas and kabaai, and was just preparing to turn in for his afternoon nap. His hand was already on the handle of his bedroom door, when lo, his chief servant appeared in his usual quiet, stealthy way, slid down to the ground, made a most respectful "sembah," and softly whispered that Babah Lim Yang Bing requested the honour of a few moments' interview with the Kandjeng toean.

"Babah Lim Yang Bing," exclaimed van Gulpendam, in surprise. "What? the Opium farmer?"

"Engèh, Kandjeng toean."

"Show him in at once," ordered the master.

"But, van Gulpendam," said his wife, "what are you thinking about? In that costume?"

"It does not matter, my dear," replied the husband, "we must sail when the wind blows fair. But--oh yes--" and, calling another attendant, he ordered, "Go and fetch the pajoeng stand here."

Laurentia shrugged her shoulders. "There's a pretty thing, the Resident in pyjamas and kabaai, and the golden pajoeng by his side."

"It looks more dignified, my dear. You leave me to manage, we are having a fair breeze, I tell you. Now you run away to your nest."

"Humph," muttered Laurentia, with her most captivating smile. "Very sociable, I must say, all alone. Come, my dear," she continued, "do send that Chinaman about his business."

"Not a bit of it," said van Gulpendam, "we must keep the galley fire in--you seem to forget our bill to John Pryce."

But the lady had vanished. One of her female attendants had come in and whispered to her mistress that M`Bok Kârijâh was in the kitchen waiting to see her.

This M`Bok Kârijâh was a friend of Nènèh Wong Toewâ and pretty nearly as old as she was; but she had more strings to her bow than Mrs. van Gulpendam's confidante, for besides being a doekoen, she was also a bepôrrô, a dealer in jewellery.

"Much use her coming now," muttered the lady, "now that my husband has this Chinaman on his hands."

She hastened however to her room, and ordered her servant to show the old woman up.

At the entrance of the pandoppo the Chinaman and the old crone met. Neither, however, seemed to have the slightest knowledge of the other; but a smile played upon the lips of the babah. For anyone but M`Bok Kârijâh that smile was no more than the stereotyped smirk which the sallow face of every Celestial wears when he is about to enter the presence of a superior. The old woman, however, knew that it was a smile of inward satisfaction. Preceded by the servant girl she entered the inner gallery and was admitted into the njonja's bed-chamber, while the Chinaman approached the Resident who sat comfortably balancing himself in his rocking-chair by the side of which was displayed the pajoeng stand which surrounded the high and mighty lord with its lustre of umbrellas.

"Well, babah," began van Gulpendam as with a careless gesture he motioned the Chinaman to a seat, "Well, babah, what brings you here this hot time of day?"

The Chinaman took a chair without ceremony, and with a sly look he said airily, "Oh I merely came to inquire after the health of the Kandjeng toean."

"The deuce you have, babah, I must say you might have chosen some other time for that."

"Oh, pray don't say so, Kandjeng toean. Really this is the very best time for a little quiet chat. Body and mind are now both at rest, and this is the very moment for a little business."

"Oh so," said van Gulpendam, with a laugh, "the babah has come on business, has he?"

"That is why," said the Chinaman lowering his voice, "I was so anxious that no one should see me slipping into the garden of the Residence."

Van Gulpendam pricked his ears.

"You are very mysterious, babah," said he, "have you come to bother me again about that confounded opium?"

"Yes, Kandjeng toean, and for something else besides."

"Very well, babah, let us hear what you have to say." He had it on the tip of his tongue to call out, "Very well, babah, haul away," and, had he at the moment known how to get it out in Malay, out it would have come. But he had time to reflect that the Chinaman would not, in any case, have appreciated the force of the nautical phrase.

Babah Lim Yang Bing, then, in his oily fashion proceeded to give his version of the seizure of opium near the djaga monjet in the Moeara Tjatjing, and made some attempt to explain to the Resident that what had been seized there was in reality no opium at all.

"Oh, indeed," laughed van Gulpendam, "that is your tack is it? It was not opium--what was it then?"

"Oh, Kandjeng toean," smiled the other, "it was nothing but scrapings of opium pipes mixed with the thickened juice of certain plants."

"Well," said the Resident in a mocking tone of voice, "if that be so, then there is an end of the matter, then there is nothing illegal at all in it."

"Yes, yes," replied the other, "but the inspector of police insists that it is opium."

"The deuce he does!" said van Gulpendam.

"Yes," said the Chinaman, "and he has consulted a couple of Chinese experts, and these, not knowing where the stuff came from, and judging by the smell and the taste have come to the conclusion, and have publicly declared, that it is first class tjandoe, very superior to that which the government supplies us farmers with."

"You mean to tell me," cried van Gulpendam in amazement, "that the inspector has told you all that?"

"Yes, Kandjeng toean, and he has done more than that He has placed a sample of it into the hands of a chemist."

"Well," said the other. "And what is the chemist's opinion?"

"He has made an affidavit," replied the Chinaman, "to the effect that it is real tjandoe containing thirty-two per cent. of morphine."

"That settles the matter," said the Resident. "I am sorry for it babah, I cannot help you at all, things must take their course."

"But," insinuated the other, "if the Kandjeng toean would--"

"No, no, babah!" said van Gulpendam in an absent kind of way, as if his mind was on something else. "No, babah, I can do nothing for you."

"I am very sorry to hear it," said the Chinaman affecting to sigh though the stereotyped smile still hovered on his lips. Then, with ready tact dropping that topic of conversation altogether, he began to talk about indifferent matters, about the gossip of the day, the state of trade, about the ships that had just come in, and so on--when suddenly he said: "Yesterday, you know, the Wyberton of the Rotterdam Lloyd came into harbour. She has brought me a splendid consignment of Havanah cigars. I have had a few of them packed up as samples in cases of a dozen. They are very fine indeed. I happen to have one of these little cases about me. Will the Kandjeng toean do me the favour of having a look at it?"

With these words the wily Chinaman produced a cigar-case, which, as far as outward appearance went, was really very pretty indeed, it was very tastefully embroidered with bunches of red roses.

The Resident took the case, looked at it, admired it, and opened it. It contained twelve cigars, very fine looking Havanahs, which, by their fragrance, were undoubtedly of an excellent brand. But, as the Chinaman went on talking, the Resident looked at the case and its contents in a very abstracted mood, as if he hardly saw it at all, his thoughts were evidently elsewhere. At length, he handed the case back, and said, "Yes, a very pretty thing--it seems a very fine sample."

"Would the Kandjeng toean condescend to accept them at my hands?" asked the Chinaman with his most winning smile.

"What? you wish me--?"

"Oh sir, it is but the merest trifle. The Kandjeng toean will have the pleasure of smoking a really excellent cigar--I will answer for it--and he will be conferring the greatest favour upon me if he will accept them as a little present."

Without making any reply, without so much as a sign of consent, the Resident listlessly allowed the gift to drop on a little table that stood by his side, and, just as if nothing whatever had happened, he took up the conversation precisely where it had been broken off.

"When that opium came ashore," said he, "did anyone happen to be present?"

"No one, Kandjeng toean, but my two spies, Liem King and Than Khan."

"Can you trust the fellows?"

"Most absolutely," was the reply, "there is not the smallest fear from that quarter."

"And the opium was discovered, you say, close to the spot where Ardjan was picked up?"

"Not two hundred yards from where he was," replied the Chinaman.

"And they found the djoekoeng in which he came ashore did they not?" asked van Gulpendam.

"Yes, Kandjeng toean, it was a surf boat."

"That is all I want to know, babah," said the Resident.

The astute Chinaman took the hint, he rose and was preparing to leave; but the Resident motioned him back to his seat.

"You have not said a word yet, babah, about that other business," said van Gulpendam carelessly.

"What business?"

"Your son Lim Ho has treated Ardjan most barbarously."

"One has nothing but sorrow from one's children, Kandjeng toean," said the Chinaman piteously.

"That is all very fine," said the Resident, "but the chief medical officer has made an official report which is very serious, very serious indeed. I am afraid, I am afraid--"

"Ah, this is a world of suffering and woe, Kandjeng toean," sighed Lim Yang Bing most dolefully. "Is there no possible means of squaring it with the doctor?"

"Who knows," said van Gulpendam thoughtfully. "Now if I had the matter in hand, I might perhaps--"

"O pray, Kandjeng toean," whined the Chinaman. "Do pray help me I beseech you."

"I shall see," said van Gulpendam. "A great deal depends upon yourself, babah. You know the penalty for ill-treatment is very severe."

The Chinaman, in a moment, took the not too delicate hint. He felt in his pocket and drew forth a little silver tea-caddy of most exquisite workmanship. Said he; "That Wyberton I mentioned just now, has brought me some very fine silver ware from Paris. Just look at that fretwork. Do you think van Kempen in the Hague could turn out anything better than that?"

Van Gulpendam took the box. "Aye, aye," said he, as he examined it, "it is marvellously pretty--very tasteful I must say."

"I have had the box filled with the choicest Chousong, such tea never reaches Europe, it is reserved for the court at Pekin. Just smell it, Kandjeng toean, is it not delicious?"

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.

"Oh, it is all the same to me, noble sir," said the Chinaman, with his false smile, as he heartily shook the dog's honest paw.

The Dutch official thoroughly understood those words of the Chinaman. As soon as he was alone in the pandoppo, he, with a greedy look, opened the cigar-case and emptied it on the table. His face beamed with joy, for round each Havanah there was very neatly wrapped a bank-note of a thousand guilders, in such a manner that one half of the cigars only was covered, and nothing could be seen of the paper when first the case was opened. Next he put his fingers into the tea-caddy. Yes, there again he encountered the same soft kind of paper. He was about to pull it out; but suddenly he thought better of it, he hurriedly replaced the precious cigars, snatched up the case and the silver box, and rushed into his private office where he immediately sat down and began to write the letter which so puzzled the President of the Council at Santjoemeh. Just as he had sealed it, he heard his wife coming into the inner gallery, and taking leave of M`Bok Kârijâh.

"A lucky day," he whispered in her ear, as he threw his arm round her neck. "A lucky day," and thus he drew her along.

"A lucky day?" she asked, replying to his embrace by folding her arm round his waist as she gazed at him with moist and glittering eyes.

Thus they went to the bedroom. When he got there van Gulpendam carefully closed the door and double locked it. Then he drew his wife to the table, and, taking a seat, he shook out upon it the contents of the cigar-case and of the tea-caddy, while Laurentia stood by him, her eyes fixed upon the bits of paper. There were five-and-twenty of them, there could be no mistake about them, for the mark upon their silky surface told plainly enough that each represented the value of one thousand guilders. A shade of disappointment passed over Laurentia's handsome features. It passed away in an instant, and was gone long before her husband could notice it. He saw her eagerly seizing upon the notes, carefully unrolling them from the cigars and smoothing down those which had come out of the tea-caddy in a sadly crumpled condition.

"Twenty-five thousand guilders!" cried she. "A pretty sum indeed--Truly it is a lucky day, for added to what I have got--"

"What have you got?" cried her husband.

"Yes, what I have just now received from M`Bok Kârijâh!"

"Let us see! What did she give you?" eagerly cried van Gulpendam.

"I will show you presently; but first this." As she spoke she took up a little parcel which was lying on the table by the side of a cardboard box which bore marks of having already been opened. She then carefully stripped off and put aside the pisang-leaves in which the parcel was wrapped, and at length she produced a small cup of the commonest earthenware, which contained a greenish, quivering jelly, of most disgusting appearance. "First take this," said Laurentia, as, with a tiny Chinese spoon, she scooped out of the greenish mass, a piece about the size of a hazel-nut, and held it to her husband's lips as though she was going to feed him. "First take that, Gulpie, dear--and then I will show you."

Van Gulpendam cast a most comical look of despair at the gruesome morsel, while his face assumed an expression of loathing which baffles description. "That filthy stuff again," he whined submissively. "You know it is no good."

"Oh, yes," said she, "it is--this is quite a new drug. It must work, M`Bok Kârijâh brought it to me only this morning."

"Do you intend me to swallow that horrid stuff?"

"Come, Gulpie," said his wife, as she still held the spoon to his mouth. "Now, don't be childish, swallow it at once. You will see how it will work," continued she, as she patted his back with her hand. "Now, there's a dear, swallow it down, and then I will tell you how I have had as good a Hari ontong as you."

Whether his wife's coaxing words and ardent looks, or his intense curiosity to know what she had to tell him, overcame his repugnance matters but little. Suffice it to say, that the poor wretch shut his eyes, and opened his mouth, while his wife, with the spoon, put the pale-greenish mess upon his tongue. As he tasted it he heaved so violently with intense disgust, that an explosion seemed imminent.

"Come, swallow, swallow!" cried Laurentia, again patting his back with her soft hand. "So, so, that's right; and now clean the spoon, the stuff is much too precious to waste."

So the unhappy man was compelled to lick up and swallow the last vestige of the nauseous compound which clung to the spoon.

"And now," said he, "now for your story."

"Come here, Gulpie," said his wife, in her most coaxing manner. "Come here and sit down by me on the divan, and I will tell you all about it." She took up the box from the table, and seating herself cross-legged on the divan after the fashion of the natives, she drew her husband close to her side.

And now she proceeded to relate to him how M`Bok Kârijâh had, in the strictest confidence, told her how madly Lim Ho was in love with the baboe Dalima, and, as if they both did not know that well enough already, she added, with a strange smile, that he would do anything in the world to gain possession of the maiden. The forcible abduction from under the very eyes of her mistress was indeed proof sufficient of the ardour of his passion, and the poor fellow had been most grievously disappointed that he had been unable to attain his object.

Fair Laurentia did not tell her husband all this simply, and as a matter of fact story. No, no, she was an artiste in the arts of wheedling and seduction. She took her time and knew how to impart to her tale the necessary shades and tints--here and there seeming to hesitate as if modestly disinclined to enter into somewhat questionable details; and then again at the right moment launching out into a freedom of speech which threatened to become impassioned if it did not indeed actually border upon the indecent. And so she managed to finish her story by a glowing description of the ardent Chinaman and the personal charms of lovely Dalima.

Van Gulpendam had first listened to her attentively, her highly coloured narrative had greatly interested him. But--Was it the effect of the drug he had swallowed, or was it an occasional peep into fair Laurentia's half-open kabaja, or were there other influences at work which made him lose his mental balance? At all events, the man was trembling with excitement when his fair neighbour brought her story to an end with the words:

"M`Bok Kârijâh implored me to lend her my assistance and to exert my influence with Dalima to make her yield to Lim Ho's ardent passion. As earnest of the man's gratitude she offered me this."

Thus saying, Laurentia opened the box and drew forth a magnificent red coral necklace depending from which hung a large rosette of precious stones.

"Look, Gulpie, look!" she cried, triumphantly, "these brilliants alone are worth more than ten thousand guilders," and as she spoke she threw the necklace over her well-shaped shoulders. The deep red corals showed off splendidly on the soft pearly white skin, while the rich clasp of jewels lay glittering on her heaving bosom.

But van Gulpendam had no eyes for the costly gift. He clasped his fair wife to his breast as he exclaimed beside himself with passion:

"You are lovely, my Laurentia! You are too lovely!"

"The drug, the drug," cried she, "you see it is the drug! M`Bok Kârijâh has surpassed herself. You see, Gulpie, you see!"

"Yes; darling Laurie," cried he, in ecstasy. "It must be the stuff. I feel it working in my veins."

"Indeed, indeed, this is--this is indeed, a lucky day!"

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VII. A TRAITOR IN THE DESSA

About twelve miles to the south-east of Santjoemeh, in a hilly country which offers to the eye a continual succession of picturesque and lovely views, lies the little dessa Kaligaweh. It is situated in the centre of an extensive forest of cocoa-nut trees which encloses it as in a circle of emerald, and which, viewed from an eminence close by, resembles a mighty garland of verdure whose tops waving in the gentle breeze have the appearance of a frame of grass-green lace-work.

This cocoa-nut forest may be said to form the outer court of the dessa, for the village itself lies concealed in a thick grove of fruit-trees in which the most splendid mangoes, the most delicious ramboetans, the most refreshing assams, the juiciest bliembiengs, the most fragrant djeroeks and the coolest djamboes, and many other gifts of intertropical Pomona grow up and flourish in the richest luxuriance. Here and there tufts of underwood fill the spaces between the little huts and the trees, and flowers in the wildest profusion fill the air with their fragrance and enchant the eye by their rich but harmonious diversity of colour.

The dessa itself is enclosed by dense rows of bamboo, the thick and tall Black bamboo, which furnishes the natives with the most useful building material, and whose long massive stalks growing quite close together and gracefully bending under the load of the heavy plumage of verdure they have to support, form an almost impenetrable hedge, while at the same time they cast the most grateful shade over the enclosure within.

Kaligaweh was but an inconsiderable dessa. Some thirty or forty huts scattered here and there in picturesque disorder among the fruit trees formed the centre of the small community. The inhabitants of this spot so highly favoured by nature occupied themselves, for the most part, with the culture of rice to which the soil was admirably adapted, and the fruitful rice-fields rose all around in the form of an amphitheatre on the hill-slopes. The lower grounds contained several fish-ponds well stocked with bandengs, djampals, Cataks, Gaboes, and many other kinds of fish, all of them highly esteemed by the European and Chinese inhabitants of Santjoemeh, and therefore fetching good prices in the market of that place. Hence the population of Kaligaweh might have been a highly prosperous and flourishing community, had it not been for the ravages which one fatal and all-destructive pest spread among them. Their bane was the passion for opium. That fatal drug had undermined not only their prosperity, but broken down also the constitutions of all those who gave themselves up to its use. It was a sad fact, alas, that the great majority of those who dwelt in Kaligaweh were enslaved to it; but sadder yet it was that there were not a few among them who could recall the good time when the name of opium was scarcely known there. In that short space of time, how complete a change had come over so lovely a spot!

About twelve years ago a native of the dessa, who, in his youth had left it to seek his fortune elsewhere, returned to Kaligaweh. This man, whose name was Singomengolo, but who usually was known as Singo, had let loose the opium fiend upon the quiet and innocent little dessa in which he was born.

Singo, on leaving home, had fallen into the hands of the recruiting serjeants. By encouraging his innate passion for gambling, and by initiating him into the mysteries of opium smoking, these soul-destroyers had, in an unguarded moment, induced him to enlist, and thus to bind himself to the service for a period of six years. The wretches helped the miserable man soon to get rid of the bounty in opium-dens, in gambling houses, at cock-fights, and in excesses of all kinds. Then for six years he was a soldier.

As soon as his time of service had expired, Singo left the army in which he had acquitted himself with some credit, and obtained a place as oppasser (policeman) under one of the government controllers in the interior of the island. He soon gave evidence of considerable skill as a detective, and earned for himself the reputation of a very sharp and clever officer. This reputation brought him under the notice of one of the agents of the opium farmer for the district, who recommended him to the Company; and the Company, appreciating his services, obtained for him the place of bandoelan or opium-detective at their chief office at Santjoemeh.

In that capacity, his dexterity and cunning, not only in the detection of opium smuggling but also in bringing to light other mysterious and shady transactions, won him the warm support of Lim Yang Bing, the wealthy opium farmer, who used constantly to employ him, especially in cases which had baffled the shrewdest of his agents and spies. Singo's services were, in fact, invaluable to his master; for whenever, for some reason or other, a man stood in the rich Chinaman's way, Singo could always be depended upon to find smuggled opium in his possession, though the victim might not have perhaps, in all his life, so much as seen the drug.

In the year 1874 Babah Lim Yang Bing, by sheer dint of bribery, contrived to get the number of opium stores in his district increased by ten; and among the unfortunate dessas which were thus poisoned by sanction of the Dutch government, was Kaligaweh. Now, it was easy enough to set up an opium den in the little village; but it was quite another matter to make it pay, which was all Lim Yang Bing cared for. As soon as the government had granted the license, an opium store arose in Kaligaweh, a hole filthy in the extreme, so as to remain faithful to the tradition of such dens. Over the door appeared a black board on which in huge white letters were conspicuously painted the words, "Opium store," in Dutch, in Javanese, and in Chinese, and in the characters peculiar to those tongues. The two Chinamen, who were entrusted with its management, did their very best to attract people, they lavished their most winning smiles upon the passers-by, they exhausted every means of enticing them to enter; but it was all in vain. Not a single man ever ventured to set foot in the noisome hole.

Babah Lim Yang Bing was not slow to perceive that so good an example would become contagious, and might spread among the other dessas of his district. It was quite obvious to the most casual observer, that Kaligaweh and its environs were wealthy and prosperous out of all comparison with the places where the opium trade flourished. Why, the mere outward appearance of its people was quite enough to show this; and the broad chests and sinewy arms of its men, and the firmly rounded hips and full shoulders of its women and girls, whose bronzed skin bore the ruddy glow of health, formed the most startling contrast with the ghastly, sunken countenances, and shrivelled frames of the walking skeletons which one encountered in other less favoured localities.

But, chiefly was the eye of that cunning Chinaman attracted by the rich rice-fields which covered the entire district, and which pleasantly surrounded its little dessas nestling in the dark foliage of their fruit trees as islets amidst a sea of emerald, when the young crops imparted light and cheerfulness to the scene; or presently again would encircle these dessas as in a bright band of gold, when the stalks, ripening under the tropical sun, were bending under their weight of grain, and waved to the soft harvest breeze.

In whatever season of the year, or from whatever side one might, at that time, approach Kaligaweh, its fields testified to the frugal industry of its inhabitants. They always spoke of regular and systematic cultivation, and of careful and constant irrigation, and they thus loudly proclaimed--a fact with which the reader is already acquainted--that its people were prosperous and happy, and led very different lives to the squalid and wretched existence which was dragged out in the places where the passion for opium had taken root.

All this it was Lim Yang Bing's purpose to alter. Not only was the material welfare of the dessa a thorn in his side; but his covetous nature longed to transfer the earnings of its simple and frugal population to his own already over-filled pockets. His attempt with the opium-store had hitherto, we have seen, borne no fruit; it had proved a failure, and had brought loss rather than profit to its owner. He had determined, at any cost, to bring about a change.

On a certain evening, it was towards the end of harvest, the population of Kaligaweh, men and women, young men and maidens, were returning homewards from the fields. The women had been hard at work all day, handling the sickles and cutting the ripe grain from the stalks, while the men had been no less busily engaged in taking the little bundles from the hands of the reapers, and binding them together into big bundles. The faces of all were flushed with exertion, and glowing with satisfaction, for the crop this year was a heavy one; no plagues of any kind had interfered with its growth, so that the landowners looked forward to laying up many pikols in their barns, and the more humble labourers could count upon a plentiful payment in kind. That, in itself, was quite sufficient to account for the universal good-humour and gaiety which prevailed.

The rice-harvest is, indeed, in the rural districts of the rich island of Java, a great national festival, a day of joy, which, for its simple people, has more real significance than all the other Mahommedan festivals. It is then for them fair time. Clad in their gay, many-coloured dresses, the women and maidens assemble on the green; then many a heart, for the first time, feels the tender passion; then many an old love-affair is settled, and many a "yes" is softly murmured. The climate, the surrounding scenery in those glad harvest-fields, all invite to merriment and glee. True it is, we must not deny it, that, on such occasions, unguarded innocence is sometimes betrayed, and that, now and then, an offering is brought to the shrine of Lucina; but, much more frequently, the vows then made will presently be ratified and confirmed by the priest, and, at the very worst, no such frightful consequences ensue as are wont to arise in more highly civilized society.

On this evening, as the merry bands of reapers approached the dessa, the lively tones of the cymbal fell upon their ears. The people looked at one another in astonishment at the unwonted sounds, and were at a loss to know who had prepared for them this pleasant surprise.

When they came to the village green, they saw two booths erected under the splendid Wariengien or wild-fig trees which overshadowed the dessa, and over each of these booths there waved the Dutch flag.

One of them was, as yet, closed, but in the back of the other were seated, cross-legged, a band of musicians, who made the air resound with their inspiriting strains. In front of this orchestra, a space was left vacant, the ground of which had been levelled and sprinkled with fine sand, and the booth was fairly well illuminated with lanterns of various colours. A loud cheer arose from the village crowd, for now they began to see that they might expect a much richer treat than a mere concert.

Singomengolo, whom Lim Yang Bing had despatched with plenary powers to Kaligaweh and who had provided this entertainment for his friends in the dessa, was standing close by leaning up against one of the bamboo stems, which supported the roof of the booth, and was, with sundry nods and smiles, welcoming the fresh arrivals who were, for the most part, old acquaintances of his, and who warmly greeted him on his return to the dessa.

In a twinkling, the sickles, the bands of straw, and the bundles of rice were stowed away, and the broad-brimmed hats, with which the labourers protected themselves at their work from the full glare of the mid-day sun, were laid aside. Soon the entire population came crowding to the green, and romping and playing filled the open space in front of the booth, then by degrees seated themselves on the soft carpet of tuft.

Meanwhile, the sun had gone down in the West, and the stars were coming out one by one, and began to show their soft and twinkling light, while the moon, rising in the dark blue vault of heaven as a large blood-red disc, shed the fantastic shadows of the Wariengien trees upon the assembled groups. Round about the tree-tops innumerable swarms of bats flitted in giddy mazes uttering their peculiar, short, shrill cry, and high above them, in the evening air, sundry flying squirrels kept circling round mysteriously, who seemed to be selecting the juiciest fruits on which, presently, they intended to make a feast.

When all were seated, and some degree of order had been obtained; at a signal from Singo, the cymbals and all the instruments in the orchestra struck up, and filled the air with pleasant melody.

"Bogiro, Bogiro!" shouted the younger and more enthusiastic part of the audience.

That first piece, indeed, which may most fitly be compared with our overture, is one in which all the instruments of a Javanese orchestra play together, and which serves as an introduction to the programme which is to follow. At times, it must be said, the cymbals would make a most discordant and deafening noise, but this was varied now and then by solos which were musical and pleasant enough to the ear. Evidently the musicians were this evening on their mettle, they exerted themselves to the utmost to deserve the applause of their simple audience; and the profound silence with which that wanton and excitable crowd sat listening, sufficiently testified to the success of their endeavours.

At the last clash of the cymbals, the people broke silence, and by ringing shouts and lively cheers gave vent to their satisfaction as a Westerly audience would have shown its approval by clapping of hands.

Singomengolo, with the help of a couple of his assistants, and aided by the two Chinamen who kept the opium-store, then offered the notables, who were present, cigars wrapped in leaves, while sweets and confectionery were handed round to the more distinguished ladies of the company. Round the two booths several stalls had been erected, at which the lower classes could go and gratify their tastes. The satisfaction of these poor people was unbounded, when they found that all these dainties were provided free of charge, and that it was in this generous manner that Singo had determined to celebrate his return among them. On all sides, praises and thanks were lavished on his liberality. But the tempter took good care not to let them know that the tobacco of which those pleasant little cigars were made had been well steeped in infusion of opium, and that the pernicious juice of the Polyanthes tuberosa largely entered into the composition of the nice sweets he had so bountifully served out. Perfectly unconscious of this treachery the poor people thoroughly enjoyed their treat, and were loud in praises to their generous friend.

Presently, the cymbal was heard again, and every one hurried back to his seat. At the first notes of the piece which followed a loud cheer arose; "Taroe Polo, Taroe Polo" was the cry as the people recognised the well known sounds, then all sat silent and listened with rapt attention.

The story or legend of which the musicians were about to give a musical interpretation, was familiar to almost every inhabitant of the dessa, yet here and there small groups gathered round some old man as he told the oft-repeated tale to his younger friends.

The music of Java is the interpretation, the embodiment, the rhythmical expression of the numberless fables, legends, and romantic tales current in the island. It is inseparably connected with them just as appropriate gesture and modulation of the voice are the necessary accompaniments of oratory. Of these legends the story of Taroe Polo is one of the prettiest and well-calculated to awaken the softest emotions in the breast of the susceptible Javanese.

In very low tones, which blended with the notes of the music, but yet in an audible voice, the old man said:

Taroe Polo was a young prince who one day while he was out hunting lost his way in the dense tropical forest, and as he was wandering about, suddenly came upon an old ruinous palace the existence of which had never been suspected. Making his way through the tangled undergrowth, he soon came up to the walls and entered the ruin. As he roamed about the spacious and much decayed galleries, he was greatly surprised to find himself in an apartment which the hand of time had spared, and which retained all its former freshness and splendour. As he looked round in amazement at so sudden and strange a sight, his eye lit upon a young damsel of wondrous beauty surrounded by a train of attendants, who, although unable to vie with their mistress in loveliness, yet were all comely and young. She was a princess, a king's daughter, confined by the cruelty of her mother to that lonely spot, because she would give no ear to the suit of an old though powerful monarch, who was anxious to make her his bride. The moment prince Taroe Polo caught sight of this enchanting vision, he felt a fire kindle in his breast, and casting himself down at her feet, he began to pour out to her the tale of his passionate love; hear how well the little silver cymbal and the strips of resonant wood struck with small hammers with their soft silvery tones express the tender feelings of the prince, how they seem to sing, to woo, to implore as the young man kneels to his love.

The young maiden listens but too willingly to his eager suit, her bosom heaves, she sighs, the flute with its languishing notes quite plainly tells the tale.

But she is compelled to repress her emotion, for she is guarded by her attendants, who are her mother's slaves, and who one and all will be ready to betray her. She replies in broken accents, in single syllables, the harp faithfully gives back her confusion.

Gently however, and with the cunning of love she tries to get rid, if but for a few moments, of those who stand around her. She succeeds, and now the passionate joy of the lovers breaks forth unrestrained. How well that burst of passion is rendered in full symphony by the two stringed viol, the accordian, the flute and the zither. Thus having, for a while, given way to their feelings, they suddenly remember that they can never win the mother's consent, that her followers are incorruptible and that their only chance of bliss is to flee away together--far away to the mountains. The lovely princess, however, will not yield, her maiden pride refuses to take the irrevocable step. But the prayers of Taroe Polo, now soft as the gentle breeze which rustles in the tree-tops, then vehement and passionate as the tempest blast which howls over the fields--at length prevail. Her own heart pleads for him, her love is sounding his praise, still she wavers, she hesitates. But the thought of her mother and of the fate which awaits her should the secret of her love become known, quite overcomes her. With downcast eyes, but with a smile of joy she casts herself into the arms of her love, and with him she flies--she flies to the blue mountains, which loom far away in the mist. The whole Javanese orchestra celebrates this happy close with a full burst of melody, the cymbals with rapid clang indicate the swiftness of their flight, and then the coy sighs of the maiden are succeeded by the jubilant song of the prince, and a loud clash of victory brings the piece to a triumphant close.

The whole population of Kaligaweh--simple folk--sat awe-struck listening with breathless attention until the last sounds of the gamelang had faded, quivering away in the distance.

The moon had meanwhile risen, had lost her blood-red hue and was now prying down upon that rustic village green through the tall Wariengien trees and flooding all those who sat there with silvery light.

By this time the other booth had been opened and within a group of men could be seen cleverly manipulating some packs of Chinese cards. Your Javanese is a born gambler. With him the love of play is the ruling passion, nay the mother of all others, which without that excitement might be harmless enough.

The sight of that booth is irresistible, many of the men rise at once to take part in the seductive game, whilst others who are anxious to see the theatrical performance which was to follow, begin to ask Singo or his attendants for one of those cigars which they had found so delicious. The poor little women too are so fond of those nice little sweetmeats and cannot help showing that a second edition of those dainties would not be unwelcome. But, the crafty minions of Lim Yang Bing were on the watch. With the most pleasant smiles they told the company that the supply intended for free distribution had come to an end; but that the stall-keepers were ready to sell cigars and sweetmeats to anyone who would pay for them. It was a sore disappointment; the stall-keepers were ready to sell, but where was the money to come from? For though we know that the people of Kaligaweh were in every way prosperous, yet there was but very little of the filthy dross of this world among them.

Singomengolo read their feelings at once, and with devilish craft he pointed to the open gambling booth. There, he grinned, plenty of all sorts of coins could be picked up in a few minutes. It was a mere matter of luck.

His words acted like oil cast upon the fire.

"But to play, one must have ready money to stake," suggested one of the bystanders.

And how then about the rice which you have just brought home? said the tempter with a leer worthy of Satan himself.

A new light dawned upon the wretched people. The rice, of course, how was it that they had never thought of that?

"And will they take rice for payment?" asked one.

"Take it?" cried Singo, "of course they will and allow you the full market value for it." "And," continued the tempter, "You can see for yourselves that to-day is a lucky day for you. Look at Pak Ardjan how he is rattling the rix-dollars. It was true enough, there stood Pak Ardjan, the father of the late mate--there he stood dancing and jumping about like a madman, while he rattled in his closed hands the three rix-dollars he had just won. Three rix-dollars! Why that was at least half a month's wages! And to win all that money in a few minutes! All one wanted was but a little pluck--fortune would be kind enough." Thus spake many of the poor creatures, little knowing what nets were spread around them. Still there was a great deal of hesitation--men had not altogether taken leave of their senses. The great majority still held back, and but very few bundles of rice had found their way to the gambling booth.

Just then--Kaseran and Wongsowidjojo and Kamidin, and Sidin, and so many others began to cut the same capers as Pak Ardjan. They also danced about, they also shouted for joy, they showed the people--the one three, the other five, a third seven, and yet another ten guilders which they had made in a twinkling. That Singo really was an excellent fellow, he had returned to make the fortunes of all his friends.

Then there was no holding them. Soon the whole booth was full of men blindly intent upon tempting fortune, while outside the cymbal resounded, and the voices of the actresses(?) were beginning to make themselves heard.

But the keepers of the gambling-booth were no fools. Their policy was not to frighten the poor dessa-people at this first attempt; and evidently only a very small portion of the rice-harvest had fallen into their hands. The cheerful and happy faces of the gamblers told plainly enough that there were not many losers among them, and if here and there one had been unlucky, it was always one who could very well stand a slight reverse of fortune. In truth, the "croupiers" did but very little business that night, though they were clever enough to take care, now that the ball had been set rolling, that their losses were not ruinously heavy. In fact, as the night grew on, the rix-dollars of the winners were imperceptibly but surely melting away to guilders and the guilders to still smaller change. Yet, on the whole, the gamblers had won sufficient to make them all noisy and happy.

At length came the hour of midnight, and the heavy gong was struck at the guard-house. The booth-keepers declared that they intended to close, that they had had a really bad night, and they actually did blow out the candles and shut up the place. Many of the people were still lingering about and listening to the cymbal and the craving for cigars began to be felt again. Thus the stall keepers did a roaring trade, and seeing that they also were in the pay of the Babah Lim Yang Bing the money which the confederates had lost at cards, managed to come back to them again through another channel, so that the sacrifice, after all, was not a very alarming one.

At length the store of those pleasant cigars, which was not a very large one to start with, was exhausted. Then, with an indescribably low and nasty smile, Singo and his accomplices began to point to the opium-den where, for the same money, much more real enjoyment could be obtained.

In that wretched hole some girls were publicly seated on the rough benches, and with their shapely fingers were daintily rolling the little balls of opium, and casting seductive looks, coupled with wanton gestures, at the poor victims who stood gazing at the open door of that fatal den without being able quite to pluck up the courage to enter. Alas! for many of them, the temptation was too strong. Excited by the poison which they had already imbibed in considerable quantity--seduced by the wanton allurements of those fair women--first one gave way, then another, and although that night not every compartment of the opium-den was occupied, yet the Chinamen who kept it had every reason to be satisfied.

When Lim Yang Bing was told of the result of that night's work he rubbed his hands together as he chuckled, that "Singomengolo is really an invaluable fellow--I must not lose sight of him."

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VIII. DECAY OF THE DESSA.--ARREST OF PAK ARDJAN

This first fairly successful attempt upon the little dessa was systematically repeated, and every evening the inspiriting tones of the cymbal resounded on the green of Kaligaweh, and every evening also the temptations described in the former chapter were renewed. All this might cost Lim Yang Bing some money at first; but he knew well enough that he would be the gainer in the end and that his capital would soon return to him with ample interest. By degrees it became less and less necessary to allow the gamblers to win; and it was not very long before such a thing only happened now and again so that the hope of gain might not die out altogether. Gradually the poor deluded people began to lose more and more; and one bundle of rice after another passed into the hands of the sharpers who, it must be said, gave liberal prices; and allowed somewhat more than the full market value for the produce.

But it was not only the spirit of gambling which had thus been aroused in Kaligaweh; together with that degrading passion--perhaps in consequence of it--the abuse of opium began to increase to an alarming extent. Six months, indeed, had scarcely elapsed before it became a notorious fact that a very considerable part of the population had taken to opium smoking; and--sadder still--that the opium farmers found powerful allies in the women of the dessa, who very soon began to perceive the influence which the drug had upon their husbands, and who, instead of trying to arrest the unfortunate creatures on their road to ruin, rather encouraged their fatal passion.

One reason of this was, that the terrible effects of the poison did not at once manifest themselves. No--the enemy made his approaches in the dark, he advanced slowly but surely.

At first the quantity used was but very small, a couple of matas or so a day, not even as much as that, were for those primitive people who were wholly unaccustomed to the drug quite sufficient to procure blissful rest and delightful sleep, and to call up visions of the houris with which Mohammed has peopled his paradise. Double that quantity would produce exuberant gaiety and excite to the most inordinate passions. And that peace, that excitement, that bliss could be purchased at the opium-store for fourteen cents (about 2 1/2d.) a mata. It was indeed dirt-cheap!

But--though in the beginning of his downward course, the opium smoker could rest satisfied with so moderate an allowance--albeit even this did not fail to make a breach in his modest budget seeing that the expenditure was pretty constant--presently his constitution began to get seasoned to it, and it took a much greater quantity of the poison to have the desired effect. At first a man would only occasionally indulge and take up the bedoedan (opium pipe) say, once a week; but gradually his nervous system began to grow accustomed to the stimulant, and then a craving for the poison began to be felt, so that already several men could be pointed out who, as soon as the influence of the narcotic had passed off, were dull, downcast, nervous and restless; and who, in consequence, felt utterly miserable. There was but one means to raise them out of their state of depression; and so they would take up the bedoedan again and swallow another dose of the poison. And thus by degrees it came to pass that at length there was with them scarcely an interval between one fit of intoxication and the next. That thus the prosperity of the dessa was inevitably destined to disappear did not admit of the slightest doubt.

Not only was the actual expense of this habitual indulgence greater than the means of many would allow; but the fatal habit engendered other cravings which also had to be gratified, and which helped to sweep away the little that opium had left. Moreover the love of work--never under any circumstances too strong in a tropical land--was first seriously impaired, then wholly extinguished, and, when not under the influence of the opiate the smoker was a slovenly, drowsy, lazy and objectless being, wholly unfit for the least exertion, whom nothing could rouse into activity but fresh indulgence in the baneful remedy. Indeed the sanitary condition of the people of Kaligaweh had degenerated with such alarming rapidity, that the most casual observer could not fail to be struck by the change. If, in days gone by, a European visited the dessa--which it is true but very seldom happened--he could not fail to admire the healthy and sturdy look of its inhabitants; but now he constantly came upon men and women whose ghastly appearance could not but excite in him the deepest pity. There could be no mistake about it, at a single glance it was evident that he had before him the victims of the terrible opium-fiend.

Those grey livid faces from which every trace of the Oriental bronze tint had faded; that wrinkled skin which looked like parchment overheated without being scorched; those wasted angular features which gave to the head the appearance of an unsightly skull; those deep sunken eyes with their jaded look and the dark blue rings around them; those stooping forms and receding chests; that extraordinary emaciation of the upper body, of which every rib could be counted, and which conveyed an idea of transparency, for the specimens which one met had hardly a rag about them; barely a bit of dirty clothing wrapped round their loins to hide their nakedness; that deep distressing cough which came, with hollow sound, from the labouring breast and spoke of lungs wasted with disease whilst it seemed to shake to pieces the entire frame; those spindle legs, so poor, so meagre, that they seemed hardly able to totter along under the weight of the body they had to support; all these formed the stereotyped picture of defaced humanity and bore incontestable witness to the protracted sufferings and unfathomable misery which had reduced these poor blighted creatures to mere walking skeletons.

When later on Singomengolo revisited the dessa where he first saw the light, and where, as a thanksoffering, he had planted the most terrible curse, his lip must have curled with a Satanic smile. Yes, all he could now see there; those cocoa-nut trees overgrown with moss and parasites; those orchards neglected and decayed; those unwatered rice-fields and half-tilled fields; those two or three oxen whose lean and sickly appearance spoke plainly of neglect and starvation; yes, all these things were his work. It was his fault that now the harvest was scanty and worthless; it was his fault that even that wretched harvest had been pawned long before the ani anis had so much as begun their work; it was his fault that clothes, furniture, tools, everything, had been sold or pawned for next to nothing, and that all had been swallowed up in the bottomless pit of that national curse.

But Babah Lim Yang Bing the opium farmer and his friends Ong Sing Beh and Kouw Thang the keepers of the pawnshop and of the gambling-booth were thriving wonderfully, and by their glorious aid the Dutch Treasury also was doing well in comparison, at least, with former days when those three noble sources of income contributed little or nothing to that unsatiable Moloch, the Revenue. Gaily therefore might the Dutch flag wave in the breeze, and proudly might the Dutch arms display their manly motto "Je Maintiendrai" above the opium-den, the gambling-booth and the pawn-shop--that much worshipped Trinity which forms the most elaborate system of extortion under which ever a poor conquered race has groaned.

Among the first of the infatuated wretches which fell into the pit so carefully dug for them, was Pak Ardjan, the father of the mate of the schooner brig Kiem Ping Hin. But a short time ago he was looked upon as a thriving and well-to-do Javanese peasant, the possessor of a yoke of powerful oxen, now he had gambled, rioted and smoked away house and goods and had plunged his helpless family into the most hideous misery.

Where was now the pleasant little cottage with its neat hedge of golden-yellow bamboo and its clean dark-brown roof of thatch made of leaves? Where was that comfortable little house in which Pak Ardjan was wont to sit with wife and children, passing his days in peace and cheerfully looking forward to the future?

Alas! the miserable hovel which now barely sheltered the once happy family was small, low, close, in fact a ruin. The single room of which it consisted was pervaded by that offensive musty smell which decaying bamboo generally emits. One look at the walls, the lower parts of which had already rotted away while the upper were rapidly crumbling under the attacks of the white ant, and one glance at the roof which was in one place bulging inwards and in another fast going to dust, was quite sufficient to account for the closeness of the air. On the bits of matting, which covered the still more filthy floor, the children were rolling about, many of them naked as they were born, while the mother and father, if he happened to be at home, clad in rags which were never washed and were leaving their bodies in tatters sat crouching on the floor stupidly gazing at the scene of desolation before them. Gazing! aye, if the stony mechanical stare could be called by that name. For the father had lost all consciousness of the hopeless misery of his family. The frightful selfishness produced by the abuse of opium: the constantly growing indifference to all things round about him, even to his own wife and children; the rapidly increasing love of idleness, and incapacity for work, for care, for exertion in fact of any kind which at length made him utterly unable to think of anything by day or night except of how he might gratify his passion and the other cravings it engendered, and for which he was driven to sacrifice everything. All this had clouded his sight, and as a man stone-blind he was tottering on the very brink of a precipice.

Whilst he was in the first lethargic state brought on by the moderate use of the narcotic, he would be quiet, peaceful and contented, and would dose away and dream and build up for himself--for himself only--a paradise in which none but sensual pictures presented themselves to his eye and to his mind. Then as he continued to smoke, and when he reached the next stage--the stage of frenzy--he would, regardless of his children's presence, shamelessly pursue his wife round the cabin, for at such times she seemed to him the houri of his dreams, and then, in that wretched hovel at any hour of the night or day, scenes would be enacted such as the poor innocent children ought never to have witnessed. For, at such times the man was like a brute beast, wholly incapable of bridling his degraded passions.

Then the final paroxysm would be reached, and the effect of the dreadful poison would begin to wear off; and then the wretched creature would fall into a state of utter prostration, of annihilation which for himself, and worse still for his family, was indeed a cup of woe. Then the smoker would begin to tremble all over, then he became restless and uneasy, then his entire nervous system seemed to be out of joint, then every limb would be racked with pain--then he would moan most piteously, and cry like a child, sobbing and declaring that he was at the point of death and then--yes; then there was but one single means to relieve him and to bring him back out of that state of intolerable agony, and that was once again to grasp the pipe and to fight the disease with the poison which had caused it. Then the wife had to run out to buy opium--where the money was to come from, that was her business.

Then one of the children had to knead and roll the opium-balls and another little one had to hold the lamp which, for that kind of smoking, is indispensable, and a third had to make strong coffee which was generally got by theft out of the government-plantations. And if, from sheer want of money, all this could not be done--nay even when it was not done quite quickly enough for the impatience of the nervous sufferer--then the wretched man would fill the hut with wailing and lamentation, with curses and revilings which drove its inmates to the verge of despair.

Amidst such surroundings as these Ardjan had grown up, and although he had not fallen as deeply as his father, yet in the years of his childhood, the age which is most susceptible of good or evil, his heart and mind had received the impressions which made it possible for him later on to take service on board a smuggling-brig, and to make him feel towards the company which employed him in its nefarious transactions, such loyalty as we heard him express in the djaga monjet before Lim Ho the son of Lim Yang Bing the opium farmer at Santjoemeh.

So long as Ardjan, who was the eldest son, was but a child, the family was plunged in the depths of bestial degradation; but when he had grown up and, after having served awhile as a sailor in a government vessel, had gone on board the Kiem Ping Hin, things began somewhat to mend at home in the dessa. This was especially the case when young Ardjan, who had a very good head on his shoulders, was promoted to be mate of the smuggling brig. In that capacity he had constant opportunities of handling the cargo, and of such a drug as opium, which takes up but little space, he could very easily now and then appropriate to himself quantities of comparatively considerable value. This he did the more readily, and with the less reluctance, as his notions on the meum and tuum were of the vaguest description. The opium thus pilfered he used to deliver to his father who, in this manner, was enabled, not only fully to indulge in his ruling passion, but also to dispose of the superfluity to his neighbours. In this illegal traffic Pak Ardjan frequently made considerable gains, which, however, far from being of any substantial benefit to his empoverished household, would always be squandered with lavish extravagance.

Such was the state of things when Resident van Gulpendam gave Lim Yang Bing the hint that Pak Ardjan was, in the estimation of the police, held to be a notorious smuggler.

From what has been said above it is evident that what the Resident had said was true, the police had their suspicions, and had often been on the old smuggler's track, without ever having been able to bring the offence home to him. It must be said indeed, that so long as Ardjan was on board the Kiem Ping Hin they made no very determined efforts to convict his father. Equally true it was that Pak Ardjan, not knowing at the time that his son lay under suspicion of having brought on shore the discovered opium, had laid a formal accusation against Lim Ho, on account of the brutal manner in which he had treated his son. Now, the old opium-smoker had taken this step, not because he felt any pity for his son, nor because he wished to be revenged upon the Chinaman for the wrong he had thus inflicted upon one of his family--still less had he done so because he was anxious that the offender should receive condign punishment. Oh no, Pak Ardjan was not actuated by any such motives as these.

A short time before his adventure at the Moeara Tjatjing Ardjan had procured for his father a few katties of opium. So long as the supply lasted, the old man had not troubled himself in the least about the treatment his son had undergone; but when he saw that the supply was beginning to run low, then he began to look with apprehension to the future, and especially alarmed was he when he heard that Ardjan had exchanged the hospital for the jail. His poor muddled brain fancied that he might hasten Ardjan's release by making a charge against Lim Ho; and he had been further encouraged to take the step by the advice of a pettifogging lawyer, who thought that, in an action against the rich son of the still more wealthy opium-farmer, he had discovered a very pretty little vein of gold. Thus the charge was, in the proper form, laid before the Court at Santjoemeh and a prosecution against Lim Ho was ordered accordingly.

This matter the president of the Council had put into the hands of his young colleague, van Nerekool, and he, most anxious that justice should be done and that the miscreant should pay the legal penalty for his offence; and glad also, thus to be able to perform the promise which he had made to Anna, the fair daughter of the Resident, that he would do his best to save Dalima's lover, had readily undertaken the case, and was confident that he would be able to bring it to a successful issue.

But, on a certain afternoon, while the sun was yet high in the heavens, Pak Ardjan had gone to have a look at his store of opium which he had secreted by burying it deep in the ground, and heaping over the place a heavy layer of stones. Much to his regret he found, upon opening his store, that, at the most, he had but a couple of taël left. These he proceeded to carry home with him; for he had promised some opium-smoking friends to let them have a supply that evening, and, as they were good customers and paid him handsomely, he would not disappoint them.

When he reached home his children informed him that Singomengolo had made his appearance in the dessa, and had been making sundry enquiries about him. The appearance itself of the man in the dessa, was nothing very extraordinary, nor was it, under the circumstances, strange that Pak Ardjan's name should have been mentioned by him. But somehow or other an accountable feeling of distrust came over the old man which impelled him to try and hide the opium he had about him. Now if he had been in his normal condition he would straightway have returned to the ravine and buried his treasure safely in its former hiding place, before further steps could be taken against him. But the fit of depression was on him, his nerves were again beginning to play tricks with him, his mental powers were, as usual after prolonged abstinence, growing confused--in short he was bordering on that stage in which he would need another dose of opium to pick him up. Accordingly, he set aside a couple of matas for his own use, and, having carefully wrapped the remainder in nipah-leaves, he thrust the packets for concealment behind the attapa-leaves which formed the crazy roof of his cabin.

This done, it was the old story again, and the whole family had to set to work to minister to him in his disgusting opium debauch.

But as he lay stretched there on the bench, and just as he was beginning to light his third pipe, before that, therefore, he was wholly under the influence of the poppy-juice, Singomengolo suddenly appeared on the door-step, accompanied by four or five policemen, and by the two Chinamen, who kept the opium-store. The instant he crossed the threshold, the bandoelan knew what was going on within, although Pak Ardjan had started up, and with some dexterity, had managed to hide his pipe under the filthy pillow which is inevitably present on every couch, and his children had secreted the lamp and the yet unsmoked opium.

The sickly sweetish smell, however, which pervaded the close stuffy room could not deceive anyone, least of all a bandoelan so thoroughly experienced as was the agent of the opium-farmer.

"There has been opium smoked here!" he cried in a peremptory tone, as he and his followers made their way into the cabin.

"Oh no," stammered Pak Ardjan in dismay, "oh no, indeed there has not!" while his wife and children, like so many frightened sheep, huddled together in a corner.

"Guard the door and the windows," cried Singo to his policemen, and then turning again upon Pak Ardjan he repeated more sternly even than before, "You have been smoking opium, I tell you!"

"Oh no, indeed I have not," replied the unfortunate man.

"Why there is the pipe," cried the opium hunter, as he triumphantly drew the corpus delicti from under the pillow. "Why here is the pipe, and quite hot too!"

Pak Ardjan already beside himself with fear felt completely crushed at this evident proof of his guilt.

"Where is the opium?" asked Singomengolo in threatening tones.

Pak Ardjan returned no answer.

"Well, never mind," said Singo, "we shall soon find it," and a horrid smile crossed his lips.

He made a signal to the Chinamen, and to the policemen who were not engaged in watching the door and windows; and then ensued a search, we may call it a hunt, the description of which may well seem incredible to those who do not know that such frightful scenes are not at all of uncommon occurrence.

Under the couch, under the mats which covered the floor, they searched, they rooted up the very floor of the cabin, they poked about under the stove and in the ashes of that very primitive kind of cooking-apparatus; pillows were rent open, and their contents scattered on the floor; the few boxes and baskets were torn open, and the noisome rags they contained were shaken and contemptuously flung aside; the poor miserable furniture, a few pots and pans, the rice-kettle, the tombok-block, the rice-panniers, even the sirih-box were turned over, but nothing--nothing could they find.

Singomengolo was angry. Now he ordered a body-search to be made.

First they seized upon Pak Ardjan and, though he offered some resistance, he was, with sundry kicks and blows, very soon shaken out of the few filthy rags which hung about him, and, in his hideous leanness, he stood there naked before the eyes of his family. The sense of decency, which never leaves even the most utterly degraded, made the poor man cower down moaning to the ground trying to hide his nakedness from the eyes of his children.

Then came the mother's turn, and the turn of the children--some of them girls from seven to fourteen years of age. Regardless alike of the mother's feelings or of the innocence of childhood, the inhuman monsters proceeded in their search, and a scene was then enacted so hideous, so disgusting, that over it we must draw a veil.

The children cried, the girls sobbed and wept, the mother shrieked under this base and violent treatment, it was of no avail. But presently, one of the policemen rudely seized upon the eldest daughter, poor little Sarina, a girl of fourteen; she, in her fright, dropped her sarong, and uttered a scream of terror. That cry made Pak Ardjan bound to his feet, madly he flung himself upon the cowardly wretch, with one wrench he dragged the fellow's sabre from its scabbard, and with its edge he dealt the miscreant two such blows as sent him, sorely wounded and howling with pain, flying from the scene of his dastardly exploit. But the poor father thus goaded to madness and blinded by fury, whose withered arm and wasted frame could not endure any sustained exertion, was at once overpowered and disarmed before he could strike another blow in defence of his outraged household. They bound him most cruelly, they tied his ankles together and forced the rough and prickly gemoetoe-cords between his toes, which at the slightest movement, put the unfortunate man to excruciating torture. Next they proceeded to handcuff him; but, as the manacles were much too wide to confine his shrivelled wrists, they drove in between the arm and the iron, rough pieces of firewood, and this caused such intolerable pain that a lamentable howl came from Pak Ardjan's lips--a howl most like that of some poor beast in its dying agony.

But now the opium? The opium? Hitherto none had been found.

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!"

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