eft me
at the mercy of that dreadful man with a flat face and the bald head,
who was trying to steal my father's letter. By the way, cousin Dirk,
I have not given it to you yet, but it is quite safe, sewn up in the
lining of the saddle, and I was to tell you that you must read it by the
old cypher."

"Man with a flat face," said Dirk anxiously, as he slit away at the
stitches of the saddle to find the letter; "tell me about him. What was
he like, and what makes you think he wished to take the paper from you?"

So Elsa described the appearance of the man and of the black-eyed hag,
his companion, and repeated also the words that the Heer van Broekhoven
had heard the woman utter before the attack took place.

"That sounds like the spy, Hague Simon, him whom they call the Butcher,
and his wife, Black Meg," said Dirk. "Adrian, you must have seen these
people, was it they?"

For a moment Adrian considered whether he should tell the truth; then,
for certain reasons of his own, decided that he would not. Black Meg, it
may be explained, in the intervals of graver business was not averse to
serving as an emissary of Venus. In short, she arranged assignations,
and Adrian was fond of assignations. Hence his reticence.

"How should I know?" he answered, after a pause; "the place was gloomy,
and I have only set eyes upon Hague Simon and his wife about twice in my
life."

"Softly, brother," said Foy, "and stick to the truth, however gloomy the
wood may have been. You know Black Meg pretty well at any rate, for I
have often seen you--" and he stopped suddenly, as though sorry that the
words had slipped from his tongue.

"Adrian, is this so?" asked Dirk in the silence which followed.

"No, stepfather," answered Adrian.

"You hear," said Dirk addressing Foy. "In future, son, I trust that you
will be more careful with your words. It is no charge to bring lightly
against a man that he has been seen in the fellowship of one of the most
infamous wretches in Leyden, a creature whose hands are stained red with
the blood of innocent men and women, and who, as your mother knows, once
brought me near to the scaffold."

Suddenly the laughing boyish look passed out of the face of Foy, and it
grew stern.

"I am sorry for my words," he said, "since Black Meg does other things
besides spying, and Adrian may have had business of his own with her
which is no affair of mine. But, as they are spoke, I can't eat them, so
you must decide which