tretched as though to take him by
the arm.

"What!" exclaimed Adrian, as Martin advanced down the room, "you set
your mastiff on me, do you? Then I will show you how a gentleman treats
dogs," and suddenly, a naked dagger shining in his hand, he leaped
straight at the Frisian's throat. So quick and fierce was the onslaught
that only one issue to it seemed possible. Elsa gasped and closed her
eyes, thinking when she opened them to see that knife plunged to the
hilt in Martin's breast, and Foy sprang forward. Yet in this twinkling
of an eye the danger was done with, for by some movement too quick to
follow, Martin had dealt his assailant such a blow upon the arm that the
poniard, jarred from his grasp, flew flashing across the room to fall in
Lysbeth's lap. Another second and the iron grip had closed upon Adrian's
shoulder, and although he was strong and struggled furiously, yet he
could not loose the hold of that single hand.

"Please cease fighting, Mynheer Adrian, for it is quite useless," said
Martin to his captive in a voice as calm as though nothing unusual had
happened. Then he turned and walked with him towards the door.

On the threshold Martin stopped, and looking over his shoulder said,
"Master, I think that the Heer is dead, do you still wish me to put him
into the street?"

They crowded round and stared. It was true, Adrian seemed to be dead; at
least his face was like that of a corpse, while from the corner of his
mouth blood trickled in a thin stream.

CHAPTER XII

THE SUMMONS

"Wretched man!" said Lysbeth wringing her hands, and with a shudder
shaking the dagger from her lap as though it had been a serpent, "you
have killed my son."

"Your pardon, mistress," replied Martin placidly; "but that is not so.
The master ordered me to remove the Heer Adrian, whereon the Heer Adrian
very naturally tried to stab me. But I, having been accustomed to such
things in my youth," and he looked deprecatingly towards the Pastor
Arentz, "struck the Heer Adrian upon the bone of his elbow, causing the
knife to jump from his hand, for had I not done so I should have been
dead and unable to execute the commands of my master. Then I took the
Heer Adrian by the shoulder, gently as I might, and walked away with
him, whereupon he died of rage, for which I am very sorry but not to
blame."

"You are right, man," said Lysbeth, "it is you who are to blame, Dirk;
yes, you have murdered my son. Oh! never mind what he said,