--to attend
his execution. Whereas if you obey and dismiss him finally, as the door
shuts behind him I put this Information in the fire and satisfy you that
the evidence upon which it is based is for ever deprived of weight and
done with."

Lysbeth looked a question.

"I see you are wondering how I should know what you do or do not do.
It is simple. I shall be the harmless but observant witness of your
interview. Over this doorway hangs a tapestry; you will grant me the
privilege--not a great one for a future husband--of stepping behind it."

"Never, never," said Lysbeth, "I cannot be put to such a shame. I defy
you."

As she spoke came the sound of knocking at the street door. Glancing up
at Montalvo, for the second time she saw that look which he had worn
at the crisis of the sledge race. All its urbanity, its careless
_bonhomie_, had vanished. Instead of these appeared a reflection of the
last and innermost nature of the man, the rock foundation, as it were,
upon which was built the false and decorated superstructure that he
showed to the world. There were the glaring eyes, there the grinning
teeth of the Spanish wolf; a ravening brute ready to rend and tear, if
so he might satisfy himself with the meat his soul desired.

"Don't play tricks with me," he muttered, "and don't argue, for there
is no time. Do as I bid you, girl, or on your head will be this
psalm-singing fellow's blood. And, look you, don't try setting him on
me, for I have my sword and he is unarmed. If need be a heretic may be
killed at sight, you know, that is by one clothed with authority. When
the servant announces him go to the door and order that he is to be
admitted," and picking up his plumed hat, which might have betrayed him,
Montalvo stepped behind the arras.

For a moment Lysbeth stood thinking. Alas! she could see no possible
escape, she was in the toils, the rope was about her throat. Either
she must obey or, so she thought, she must give the man she loved to a
dreadful death. For his sake she would do it, for his sake and might God
forgive her! Might God avenge her and him!

Another instant and there came a knock upon the door. She opened it.

"The Heer van Goorl stands below," said the voice of Greta, "wishing to
see you, madam."

"Admit him," answered Lysbeth, and going to a chair almost in the centre
of the room, she seated herself.

Presently Dirk's step sounded on the stair, that known, beloved step for
which so often sh