“I am certain.”

  “Very well, then, to-morrow I will denounce the old rascal to the police. Aha! the crime of high treason, August Narvarsan, is no trifle.”

  As they were now entering the town, Captain Montane motioned to Cabaret to be silent, an invitation which the son of the Garonne obeyed, contenting himself with occasionally breaking the silence by saying, “Confound the brutes!”

  CHAPTER VIII

  AN ACT OF TREACHERY

  THE very next day Colonel van Waan, the commandant of Flushing, gave orders for the arrest of Mynheer August van Naarvaersen, and appointed an officer and twelve men to carry out his decree.

  Chance — the author of all the good and likewise of all the mischief that occurs in the world — miraculously threw Captain Montane across the path of the tall and

  lean Quenzius, who was walking by the side of the canal.

  A man in sailor’s dress was following him with a line under his arm.

  Montane stopped.

  The nose of a custom-house officer, especially when it has attained the size which Montane’s nose had reached, is the keenest and most sensitive instrument in the world.

  At the time when civilization was in its infancy, men employed the hazel-wand for the discovery of treasure; in our own days this mysterious rod has been superseded by the custom-house officer’s nose. These officers scent their prey with more keenness than the crow scents corpses, and contraband goods cannot escape them even though hidden in the stomach of a Pantagruel or a Gargantua.

  “There is something at the bottom of this,” said the captain. “Humph! Humph! Quenzius out of doors and away from his ledgers! — ”

  And he sniffed the air more emphatically than before. “The fisherman accompanying him is a very clever dog; I have seen him two or three times catch fish as big as my arm. That is not natural for a fisherman to do. He has a parcel in his handkerchief; what the deuce can there be in that parcel?’

  And Captain Montane, quickening his pace, pulled Quenzius by his cloak.

  Quenzius had pretended all along not to have seen Montane; he now pretended not to feel him. But Montane pulled so violently that Quenzius was obliged to turn round.

  “Ah! it is you, monsieur Montane?” said he, smiling. “Delighted to see you!”

  “The same to you, monsieur Quenzius.’’

  Quenzius was continuing his journey, but that was not Montane’s intention.

  “Where are you off to?” he asked.

  “Straight in front of us, as you see,” replied Quenzius. “Then you are in no great hurry.”

  “On the contrary, I am in a very great hurry.”

  “Oh! but you won’t refuse to have a bit with me all the same.”

  “I have already breakfasted, monsieur Montane.”

  “Well, then, a glass of porter; there is an inn, about twenty yards from here, where they sell excellent stuff.” Every one has his own failing. That of Quenzius was a love of porter.

  “Excellent porter, did you say?”

  “I said ‘excellent,’ and I won’t unsay it; customhouse officials examine carefully all that passes between their lips.”

  Quenzius had already lost a little time in this conversation, when he recollected the errand on which Mynheer August had sent him.

  “No thank you, Captain, I am in such a hurry that I must not waste a moment, even in your agreeable company.”

  “Oh! come, Mr Secretary, a dry pen will not write: you say you are in a hurry; well, to give quickness to your feet, you must give support to your stomach.”

  “I admit the truth of both your proverbs, Captain; but it is no less true that I cannot accompany you.”

  “That’s a great pity, my dear Quenzius; I wanted to talk a little business with you. I am going to Vlamhuis presently.”

  “Your journey will be useless, Captain; my employer will be at the mill the whole day, as it is the beginning of the month.”

  “At the mill? Oho!” thought Montane, “the barrel of gold is rolling into our cellar of its own accord, it seems to me. Now, Mr Cashier, you may go where you please; I have got all I wanted out of you without even going to the expense of a bottle of beer.”

  And loosing his hold of Quenzius’ cloak, he left him fiee to continue his road.

  Then, summoning his worthy follower, —

  “Cabaret,” said he, “follow that rogue,” pointing to Quenzius. “And at the same time give the signal to four or five soldiers to follow you in their turn. Should either he or his companion attempt to launch a boat from the beach, arrest them and bring them to me. If you meet any other soldiers, despatch them to the mill to reinforce their comrades in case of need.”

  It shall be done, Captain,” answered Cabaret; “only, the job smacks of profit, you know.”

  “Who told you there wouldn’t be any profit?

  “Oh! of course, the leaders always make a good thing of it; it is not that which disturbs me.”

  Make your mind easy. There will be plenty for everybody,” said the captain, rubbing his hands togsther.

  The same evening, Van Naarvaersen arrived at the mill with his daughter and Elim; the sailors had already been there for two days waiting for them, and all was in readiness to start as soon as it was dark.

  Van Naarvaersen drew out his watch; it was five o’clock.

  Elim rose from his seat with a deep sigh; Jane threw herself in tears upon her father’s neck.

  “Farewell, Elim,” said she, “farewell for ever; for I have a presentiment that we shall never meet again.”

  Elim kissed the girl’s hand.

  “Dearest Jane,” said he, wetting her loved hand with his tears, “may God crush me with His wrath if I don’t soon come back to you somehow or other.”

  “Saperloot!” said Mynheer August, “where do you get such words from? Console yourself, my girl, with the thought that the next spring will bring new flowers. It is a curious thing!” he continued as he mounted his horse, “only yesterday I could have sworn that Jane didn’t know the difference between a cock and a hen, and now — Saperloot!”

  As Mynheer August was speaking only to himself, it was sufficient that he knew his own meaning.

  There were two roads leading to the sea: the one short and direct, which our shipwrecked mariners had taken; the other making a bend and going round by Helmond.

  It was this last road which our travellers took.

  Elim rode along buried in thought: Mynheer August, seeing that he was not inclined for conversation, chatted with the guide who was carrying a lantern.

  The five sailors brought up the rear, talking to one another in low tones.

  “What the deuce shall we say to our mates when we get aboard again?” observed one of them.

  “That we have come from the kingdom of frogs, inasmuch as men live here much as frogs do with us.”

  “Go on,” said a third, “it is bad to break the glass out of which you have drunk. What have we come short of here? Ham or brandy? No, thank God! you could eat as fast as you liked, there was plenty more put before you, and before you had finished your first glass, another was already poured out.”

  “True,” said the first, “and it would be a sin to be ungrateful: we were helped to our heart’s content; the bread was as white as sugar, the cheeses as big as blocks of stone, and we had coffee every morning I”

  “For my part,” replied the second, “I shan’t go out of my way to thank them; in vain did I ask them for black bread; they always answered, ‘Mix goed.’ As for the coffee, they strained it through a cloth, giving us the thin and keeping the thick for themselves, the greedy pigs! while as for the cheese, it was all in holes!”

  “Each to his taste,” said Yorsko, sententiously, “and you can’t take your own rules into other people’s establishments. For my own part, if ever I am hungry some fine day, I shall think of the splendid dinners that I got with the worthy man who is walking in front of you, and I warrant you I shall be filled by the mere recollection of them.”

  “No doubt; lazy folk are always thinking about stuffing themselves,” replied the second. “It is all very well to go visiting, but, after all said and done, one is always best off at home.”

  “Never mind! Heaven send we see our mates again,” said the sailors, quickening their pace.

  It seemed at first as though Heaven were sending a favourable answer to this prayer. They arrived at the spot fixed for embarkation without misadventure; the sea, though black-looking, was calm; the shore appeared deserted.

  “God zÿ met ons!” said the guide, clapping his hands, “he ought to be waiting for us there.”

  “Saperloot!” said Mynheer August.

  “Are you certain this is the place?” asked Elim.

  “As sure as I am of my Pater noster,” said the guide. They walked some way along the beach, but neither boat nor fisherman was to be seen.

  Mynheer August lost all patience: a man who failed to keep his word he regarded as worse than a thief.

  “Saperlootl” he cried, “I’ll give them all a good dressing down! To take my money and then not be in time! I’ll make it so hot for them that my ducats will melt in their pockets. Drunken scoundrels! I wager they are at the inn.”

  But all this outburst did not advance matters in the slightest degree, and the position of Elim and his men became more and more critical.

  Mynheer August sent the guide on Elim’s horse to examine the shore to the left, while he went himself to the fisherman’s hut.

  Meanwhile Elim, left alone with his men, proposed that they should make a search on their own account. Accordingly he set off, following the beach in the opposite direction to that taken by the guide, hoping to fall in with the boat which was to take them, or find another which might be hired.

  As he approached the spot where he had been cast ashore by the tempest, he noticed something white.

  Laying a hand on the shoulder of Yorsko, who was following him, he pointed with the other to the object which had attracted his attention.

  “Look,” said he.

  “If I wasn’t sure that our boat was broken to bits, Lieutenant, I should say she had come out of the water like a sea-calf and was asleep on the beach; but, anyhow, if it is not our boat, it is some other boat.”

  “Go softly and silently, my lads,” said Elim; “I fancy I see some men lying down there.”

  “Not only lying down, but asleep,” said one of the sailors, “I can hear them snoring.”

  “And there is no sentry,” said Elim joyfully.

  “No, none,” answered the sailors.

  “In that case,” said Elim, still lowering his voice, “let us surround them and take them prisoners; we won’t kill them if we can possibly avoid it.”

  The sailors dispersed, surrounded the little boat, and threw themselves upon the sleeping men, who found themselves pinioned and gagged almost before they awoke.

  The man who appeared to be their leader was then ungagged.

  “Who are you?” asked Elim in German.

  “Dutch custom-house officers,” replied the prisoner. “Who is your captain?”

  “Monsieur Montane.”

  “Hal an old acquaintance; and what are you doing there?” —

  I don’t know; four of us have gone off somewhere into the country by the captain’s order, and we have been left to take care of the boat.”

  “Many thanks for taking care of it for us,” said Elim.

  Lieutenant,” said Yorsko, “the boat is quite ready and is waiting for you.”

  “Put this man and the weapons in the locker of the boat,” said Elim. “The rest of them can remain where they are; we shall probably be a long way from here by the time Captain Montane returns. All is ready, you say, Yorsko?”

  “Everything, Lieutenant.”

  “Then first our prayer, and then to your oars.”

  The prayer being finished, the oars were in the act of being raised, when it seemed to Elim that a feeble cry for help reached his ears.

  “Stop!” said he to Yorsko, laying his hand on his shoulder.

  CHAPTER IX

  FLIGHT

  WHILE the guide was wandering up and down the” beach, and while Mynheer August was searching for the fisherman’s hut, and Elim obtaining possession of the boat in such a lucky fashion, let us say a word about what was happening at the mill where we saw our shipwrecked friends arrive at the beginning of this story.

  Jane had remained at the mill overcome with grief.

  The poor child was in love as only a woman loves for the first time. Her pure young heart had received its first impress from the powerful hand of love, and to destroy that impress, you would have to break her heart as you break a glass.

  On going into the inner room, the same in which her father had been almost murdered by the bandits, she had sunk into a chair and remained there motionless and silent, like a statue of Dejection, showing no sign of life save the tears that trickled from her eyes.

  Suddenly Quenzius entered, breathless and scared, his face as pale as death.

  “Where is your father, Mademoiselle?” he cried, “where is your father?”

  “He is where I should like to be,” answered Jane, without noticing the emotion in Quenzius’ voice or the alarm depicted on his countenance.

  “In the name of the big book,” cried the latter, “tell me which way your father has gone.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But I must know! He is in danger.”

  “In danger! my father?” cried Jane, alarmed at last by the words of Quenzius. “What are you saying, Quenzius? My father! Why?”

  “Ah! Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle I think of the burgomaster Van Kempenaar van Driel.”

  “Why! what have I to do with your burgomaster? Don’t you hear me asking you in what way my father is in danger?”

  “Montane has denounced us all to the burgomaster, Mademoiselle.”

  “All! whom do you mean by all?”

  “Well, you, your father, the Russians, and monsieur Elim. He said your father was a traitor who had relations with the enemy, and had promised to hand over the fortress to the English and the Russians.”

  “Well, what then?”

  “Why, the burgomaster gave orders that your father should be arrested and sent to prison for trial.”

  “My father in prison I to be tried I perhaps shot! Oh! our cup of misfortune is indeed full!”

  “Alas!” said Quenzius, raising his hands and his nose to heaven.

  “What are you doing here then, sir?” cried Jane. “Why don’t you run, fly, to find my father? Warn him, so that he may get away and seek shelter among strangers. Tell him to go — Has he any money? Take these pearls and diamonds.”

  “I have taken from the bank all that he requires, only I have not had time to debit Mynheer August’s account in the big book; but, should any misfortune occur, you must enter it yourself, Mademoiselle — Ten thousand new ducats.”

  “Will you go, wretched man!” cried Jane, pushing Quenzius out. “Tell my father to go away, do you understand? to go away, and not to be anxious about my mother or me. They will not harm two women.”

  “God grant it, Mademoiselle!” said Quenzius, climbing on to the back of the big carriage-horse and disappearing in the gloom like the phantom of a giant.

  Jane remained stunned. Her love for her father had made her forget for the time her love for Elim.

  She remained alone with the miller and his wife, or rather, alone with her grief.

  An hour later a knock was heard at the door.

  “Open!” cried a peremptory voice, “open, in the Emperor’s name.”

  No answer was given.

  “Look sharp!” said the same voice, “we know you are there. Open the door, or we shall treat you as rebels and set fire to the house.”

  “My God!” cried the miller’s wife, “it is the voice of the same ruffian who tried to murder us, Peter.”

  “I hear you, you old hag!” cried Cabaret: “if you don’t open the door, we will break it in.”

  “Ah! Mademoiselle, what are we to do?” said the miller’s wife to Jane, who, hearing the noise, now appeared at the entrance to the kitchen. “We are lost and all we have.”

  “All we have!” said the miller, “what does that signify? The master will restore it to us a hundred times over; but our lives, the young lady — ”

  “I would rather die than fall into that ruffian’s hands!” cried Jane. “Peter, guard the door as long as you can; I shall escape and try and join the others.”

  “Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle, beware of the canals!”

  “Wasn’t I brought up here? don’t I know the smallest stream?”

  And seizing her jewel-box, Jane jumped out of a low window into the garden, from which a path led down to the sea.

  She had already reached the beach when the doors yielded to the blows of the bandits.

  Without stopping or considering where she was, Jane ran along the shore. Fear gave her strength, the hope of rejoining Elim lent wings to her feet.

  As she ran, she kept crying, —

  “Father! Elim!”

  And at last she thought she perceived close down by the sea some object resembling a boat and men moving about near it. But she was so breathless and exhausted with her efforts that she could scarcely articulate. It seemed to her as though she were being pursued; she was only a few yards from the water’s edge, but unhappily the boat was disappearing.

  She felt it impossible to take another step; her breath had failed her. She summoned all her strength to cry for the last time, —

  “Father! Elim!”

  Then she fell fainting on the beach.

  Her pursuers were not more than a hundred yards from her.

  CHAPTER X

  THE FINGER OF GOD

  IT was her last cry that Elim had heard.

  “Back water, my lads, back water!” said he.

  The sailors obeyed his directions, and the boat was pushed ashore again.

  “Stop!” cried a voice, drawing gradually nearer, “stop, or we fire!’

 

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