MIJNHEER HIERNAAST.--A WELL-KNOWN MAN.--THE OPENBARE MACHT.--WOUJEME?--VÓÓR DEN HEKHOUDER.--MAAR--WAAR WOONT HIJ?--BREATHE NOT HIS NAME.--EASY WHEN YOU KNOW IT.
On settling down in my rooms, I was reminded of my social duties by seeing a card from young Van der Leeuwen whom I had known at Trinity, where he had studied a year.
Van der Leeuwen had called upon me more than once and had invited me to his home. Up to this time I had not seen him since I came to the Hague.
To-day he had scribbled on a visiting card 'Leaving town soon for Arnhem.' This showed me that his friendly visit should be returned as soon as possible: so early next afternoon I journeyed across the city to see him.
I found however that the house was shut up. The blinds were down and the whole place hermetically sealed, so to speak.
On the door there was a singular notice, freshly pasted, which at once arrested my attention and which I copied into my notebook.
_Brieven en boodschappen te bezorgen bij Mijnheer Hiernaast._"
Unhappily I had left my faithful companion, the dictionary, at home. I was thus obliged to fall back upon my stock of Dutch learning and guess what I did not know.
'Boodschappen' and 'bezorgen' were new words to me, but I seemed to gather the general sense of the placard. If anybody wanted to see my friend van der Leeuwen, or communicate with him, he appeared to be invited to do so through the medium of a gentleman called "Hiernaast." The curious thing was--no address was given to indicate whereabouts Mr. Hiernaast lived.
Now this was very puzzling; for just that morning I had been shown how particular you must be in Holland about addresses. As I had not given word to the authorities when I moved from the hotel to my lodgings, I had been summoned to the "Bevolkingsregisterbureau," and had to display my "Geboorteacte."
Innumerable details had been asked of me about my name and initials and about my parents' names and initials,--some of which I could not satisfactorily write out.
The functionaries at the office, too, had appeared unnecessarily amused when I told them that I lodged in Ferdinand Bolstraat above a tinsmith's. On thinking it over afterwards I admit that perhaps I had mixed the word tinsmith with lightning conductor. I was naturally anxious to avoid the latter scientific term as much as possible; and my over anxiety probably defeated itself.