eyes. I re-read the letter of the Assistant-Resident of Lebak. . . . I place him and the Resident of Bantam, Havelaar and Slimering, side by side. . . .
That Shawlman turns out to be a common blackguard! You must know, reader, that Bastians is again often absent from Office, as he has lumbago. Now as I make it a matter of conscientious scruple not to squander the funds of the firm—Last & Co.—for I am unshaken in my principles, I yesterday remembered that after all Shawlman writes a moderately good hand, and as he looks so shabby, and therefore no doubt could be got for a modest wage, I felt that it was my duty to the firm to provide in the cheapest manner possible for replacing Bastians. So I went to the Long-Leiden-Side-Street. The woman of the shop was in front, but did not seem to recognize me, although I had recently told her quite plainly that I was Mr. Drystubble, Coffee-broker, from the Laurier Canal. That trick of not recognizing a person has always something odious about it, but as it is a little less cold now, and as on the previous occasion I wore my fur coat, I attribute it in this case to that coat, and shall not worry about it . . . I mean the insult. So I said once more that I was Mr. Drystubble, Coffee-broker, from the Laurier Canal, and asked her to go and see whether that Shawlman was at home, as I did not this time, as on the previous occasion, want to deal with his wife, who was always so discontented. But this second-hand shopwoman refused to go upstairs. She could not all day long be climbing stairs for that beggarly crew, she said; I had better go and see for myself. And then there was again a description of the stairs and portals, which I did not require at all, for I always recognize a place I have once visited, as I always take such notice of everything. That’s a habit I have acquired in business. So I climbed up the stairs, and knocked at the old door, which opened at my touch. I entered, and as I found no one in the room, I had a look round. Well, there wasn’t much to see. A pair of short pants with an embroidered strip was hanging on a chair . . . why do
