"How did you come by these, woman?" asked Brant.

"The last I had from a priest who brought it from Spain. I met him at
The Hague, and offered to deliver the letter, as he had no safe means
of sending it to Leyden. The others and the pictures I stole out of
Montalvo's room."

"Indeed, most honest merchant, and what might you have been doing in his
Excellency's room?"

"I will tell you," she answered, "for, as he never gave me my pay, my
tongue is loosed. He wished for evidence that the Heer Dirk van Goorl
was a heretic, and employed me to find it."

Brant's face hardened, and he became more watchful.

"Why did he wish such evidence?"

"To use it to prevent the marriage of Jufvrouw Lysbeth with the Heer
Dirk van Goorl."

"How?"

Meg shrugged her shoulders. "By telling his secret to her so that she
might dismiss him, I suppose, or more likely by threatening that, if she
did not, he would hand her lover over to the Inquisitors."

"I see. And did you get the evidence?"

"Well, I hid in the Heer Dirk's bedroom one night, and looking through
a door saw him and another young man, whom I do not know, reading the
Bible, and praying together."

"Indeed; what a terrible risk you must have run, for had those young
men, or either of them, chanced to catch you, it is quite certain that
you would not have left that room alive. You know these heretics think
that they are justified in killing a spy at sight, and, upon my word,
I do not blame them. In fact, my good woman," and he leaned forward and
looked her straight in the eyes, "were I in the same position I would
have knocked you on the head as readily as though you had been a rat."

Black Meg shrank back, and turned a little blue about the lips.

"Of course, Mynheer, of course, it is a rough game, and the poor agents
of God must take their risks. Not that the other young man had any cause
to fear. I wasn't paid to watch him, and--as I have said--I neither know
nor care who he is."

"Well, who can say, that may be fortunate for you, especially if he
should ever come to know or to care who you are. But it is no affair of
ours, is it? Now, give me those letters. What, do you want your money
first? Very well," and, rising, Brant went to a cupboard and produced
a small steel box, which he unlocked; and, having taken from it the
appointed sum, locked it again. "There you are," he said; "oh, you
needn't stare at the cupboard; the box won't live there after to-day,
or anyw