“Indeed, mother; well, doubtless if the lady says that, it was so.  I took no great note; at the least they ran and she was saved, with the others; a small service not worth mentioning, still useful in its way.”

“Oh! take my chair, Adrian,” said Foy rising, “and don’t make such a stir about a couple of cowardly footpads and an old hag.  You don’t want us to think you a hero because you didn’t turn tail and leave Elsa and her companions in their hands, do you?”

“What you think, or do not think, is a matter of indifference to me,” replied Adrian, seating himself with an injured air.

“Whatever my cousin Foy may think, Heer Adrian,” broke in Elsa anxiously, “I am sure I thank God who sent so brave a gentleman to help us.  Yes, yes, I mean it, for it makes me sick to remember what might have happened if you had not rushed at those wicked men like—­like——­”

“Like David on the Philistines,” suggested Foy.

“You should study your Bible, lad,” put in Arentz with a grave smile.  “It was Samson who slew the Philistines; David conquered the giant Goliath, though it is true that he also was a Philistine.”

“Like Samson—­I mean David—­on Goliath,” continued Elsa confusedly.  “Oh! please, cousin Foy, do not laugh; I believe that you would have left 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.