The Argus Pheasant Part 22

"You were looking for some one, _mynheer_?" he asked.

"For Mynheer Muller, the _controlleur_ and acting resident. I think I have found him."

The mildness with which these words were spoken restored the captain's aplomb, momentarily shaken by Peter Gross's calm, disconcerting stare.

"You have a message for us?"

"I have," Peter Gross replied.

"Ah, from Kapitein Enckel, I suppose," Van Slyck remarked urbanely.

"Your name is--" He paused significantly.

"It is from his excellency, the Jonkheer Van Schouten," Peter Gross corrected quietly.

Peter Gross's tolerance of this interrogation convinced Van Slyck that he had to do with an inferior intelligence suddenly elevated to an important position and very much at sea in it.

"And your message, I understand, is for Mynheer Muller, the _controlleur_?" the captain inquired loftily with a pert uptilt of his chin.

"For Mynheer Muller, the _controlleur_," Peter Gross acknowledged gravely.

"Ah, yes. This is Mynheer Muller." He indicated the _controlleur_ with a flourish. "But you have not yet told us your name."

"I am Peter Gross."

"Ah, yes, Pieter Gross. Pieter Gross." The captain repeated the name with evident relish. "Pieter Gross. Mynheer Pieter Gross."

There was a subtle emphasis on the _mynheer_--a half-doubtful use of the word, as though he questioned Peter Gross's right to a gentleman's designation. It was designed to test the sailor.

Peter Gross's face did not change a muscle. Turning to the _controlleur_, he asked in a voice of unruffled calm: "May I speak to you privately, _mynheer_?"

Muller glanced apprehensively at Van Slyck. The fears inspired by his dreams made him more susceptible to ulterior impressions than the captain, whose naturally more acute sensibilities were blunted by the preconceived conviction that he had an ignorant Yankee to deal with. Van Slyck smiled cynically and observed:

"Am I in the way, Mynheer Gross?" Again the ironic accent to the _mynheer_. He rose to go, but Muller stayed him with the cry:

"_Neen, neen, kapitein._ Whatever comes from the governor concerns you, too. Stay with us, and we will see what his excellency has to say."

None knew the importance of first impressions better than the captain.

If the new resident could be thwarted in his purpose of seeing Muller alone that achievement would exercise its influence on all their future relations, Van Slyck perceived.

a.s.suming an expression of indifference, he sank indolently into an easy chair. When he looked up he found the gray eyes of Peter Gross fixed full upon him.

"Perhaps I should introduce myself further, captain," Peter Gross said.

"I am Mynheer Gross, of Batavia, your new resident by virtue of his excellency the Jonkheer Van Schouten's appointment."

Van Slyck's faint, cynical smile deepened a trifle.

"Ah, _mynheer_ has been appointed resident," he remarked non-committally.

Peter Gross's face hardened sternly.

"It is not the custom in Batavia, captain, for officers of the garrison to be seated while their superiors stand."

For a moment the astonished captain lost his usual a.s.surance. In that moment he unwittingly scrambled to his feet in response to the commanding look of the gray eyes that stared at him so steadily. The instant his brain cleared he regretted the action, but another lightning thought saved him from the folly of defying the resident by reseating himself in the chair he had vacated. Furious at Peter Gross, furious at himself, he struggled futilely for an effective reply and failed to find it. In the end he took refuge in a sullen silence.

Peter Gross turned again to Muller.

"Here are my credentials, _mynheer_, and a letter from his excellency, the governor-general," he announced simply.

With the words he placed in Muller's hands two envelopes plentifully decorated with sealing-wax stamped with the great seal of the Netherlands. The _controlleur_ took them with trembling fingers. Peter Gross calmly appropriated a chair. As he seated himself he remarked:

"Gentlemen, you may sit."

Van Slyck ignored the permission and strolled to one end of the veranda.

He was thinking deeply, and all the while stole covert looks at Peter Gross. Had he been mistaken, after all, in his estimate of the man? Was this apparent guilelessness and simplicity a mask? Were Koyala and Muller right? Or was the resident's sudden a.s.sumption of dignity a petty vanity finding vent in the display of newly acquired powers?

He stole another look. That face, it was so frank and ingenuous, so free from cunning and deceit, and so youthful. Its very boyishness persuaded Van Slyck. Vanity was the inspiration for the resident's sudden a.s.sertion of the prerogatives of his office, he decided, the petty vanity of a boor eager to demonstrate authority. Confidence restored, he became keenly alert for a chance to humble this froward Yankee.

It was some time before Muller finished reading the doc.u.ments. He was breathing heavily the while, for he felt that he was reading his own death-warrant. There was no doubting their authenticity, for they were stamped with the twin lions of the house of Orange and the motto, "_Je Maintiendrai_." The signature at the bottom of each was the familiar scrawl of Java's gamec.o.c.k governor.

Muller stared at them blankly for a long time, as though he half hoped to find some mitigation of the blow that swept his vast administrative powers as acting resident from him to the magistracy of a district.

Dropping them on his lap at last with a weary sigh, he remarked:

"Welcome, Mynheer Gross, to Bulungan. I wish I could say more, but I cannot. The most I can say is that I am happy his excellency has at last yielded to my pet.i.tion and has relieved me of a portion of my duties. It is a hard, hard residency to govern, _mynheer_."

"A splendid start," Van Slyck muttered to himself under his breath.

"So I have been informed, _mynheer_," Peter Gross replied gravely.

"Pardon me a moment."

He turned toward Van Slyck: "Captain, I have a letter for you also from his excellency. It will inform you of my appointment."

"It would be better form, perhaps, _mynheer_, for me to receive his excellency's commands at Fort Wilhelmina," Van Slyck replied suavely, delighted at being able to turn the tables.

"Very true, very true, _kapitein_, if you insist," Peter Gross agreed quietly. "I hope to visit you at the fort within the hour. In the mean time you will excuse Mynheer Muller and me."

For the second time a cold chill of doubt seized Van Slyck. Was it possible that he had misjudged his man? If he had, it was doubly dangerous to leave Muller alone with him. He resolved to force the issue.

"A thousand pardons, _mynheer_," he apologized smilingly. "Mynheer Muller just now requested me to remain."

A swift change came into the face of Peter Gross. His chin shot forward; in place of the frank simplicity on which Van Slyck had based his estimate was a look of authority.

"Mynheer Muller cancels that invitation at my request," he announced sternly.

Van Slyck glanced in quick appeal at his a.s.sociate, but Muller's eyes were already lowering under Peter Gross's commanding glance. Unable to find a straw of excuse for holding the captain, the _controlleur_ stammered:

"Certainly, _mynheer_. I will see you later, _kapitein_."

Even then Van Slyck lingered, afraid now to leave Muller alone. But the cold, gray eyes of Peter Gross followed him; they expressed a decision from which there was no appeal. Furious at Muller, furious at his own impotence, the captain walked slowly across the veranda. Half-way down the steps he turned with a glare of defiance, but thought better of it.

Raging inwardly, and a prey to the blackest pa.s.sions, he strode toward the stockade. The unhappy sentinel at the gate, a Javanese colonial, was dozing against the bra.s.s cannon.