Tidjem pointed to it and, once more squatting on the ground and embracing and kissing Addie's knee, asked permission to depart. Addie knocked at the door; a grumbling and rumbling within was the only answer; but, when Addie called out, the door was kicked open and the two young men stepped into the one room of which the hut consisted: half bamboo, half deal boards from packing-cases; a couch with a couple of dirty pillows in a corner, and a limp chintz curtain dangling in front of it; a crazy table with a chair or two; on the table, a paraffin-lamp without a globe; and a litter of oddments stacked on a packing-case in a corner. Everything was permeated with an acrid odour of opium. And Si-Oudijck was sitting at the table with an Arab, while a Javanese woman squatted on the couch, preparing a leaf of betel for herself. A few sheets of paper lay on the table between the Arab and the young half-caste. The last-named, evidently annoyed by the unexpected visit, hurriedly crumpled the papers together. But he recovered his composure and, assuming a jovial air, cried: "Hullo, Adipati! Susuhunan! Sultan of Patjaram! Sugar-lord! How are you, my god of beauty, the ruin of all good women?" His jovial torrent of greetings continued without ceasing, while he scrambled the papers together and made a sign to the Arab, who disappeared through the other door, at the back. "And who's that with you, Raden Mas Adrianus, my bonnie Lucius?" "It's your little brother," said Addie. Si-Oudijck looked up suddenly: "Oh, is it really?" said he, speaking broken Dutch, Javanese and Malay in the same breath. "I can see it is: my legitimate one. And what does the fellow want?" "He's come to see what you're like." The two brothers looked at each other: Theo inquisitively, rejoicing at having made this discovery, as a weapon against the old man, if the weapon ever became necessary; the other, Si-Oudijck, secretly restraining, behind his brown, crafty, leering face, all his jealousy, all his bitterness and hatred. "Is this where you live?" asked Theo, for the sake of saying something. "No, I'm just staying with her for the time being," replied Si-Oudijck, with a jerk of his head towards the woman. "Has your mother been dead long?" "Yes. Yours is still alive, isn't she? She lives in Batavia. I know her. Do you ever see her?" "No." "H'm.... Prefer your step-mother?" "Pretty well," said Theo, drily. And, changing the subject, "I don't believe the old man knows that you exist." "Yes, he does." "I doubt it. Have you ever spoken to him?" "Yes, formerly. Years ago." "Well?" "No use. He says I'm not his son." "It must be difficult to prove." "Legally, yes. But it's a fact and everybody knows it. It's known all over Ngadjiwa." "Have you no sort of evidence?" "Only the oath which my mother took when she was dying, before witnesses." "Come, tell me things," said Theo. "Walk a bit of the way with us: it's stuffy in here."