“Oh! husband, husband,” she gasped, “Juan de Montalvo is here again. He has appeared as the new governor of the gaol. I saw him this afternoon, I cannot be mistaken, although he has lost an eye and is much changed.”
Dirk’s jaw dropped and his florid face whitened. “Juan de Montalvo!” he said. “I heard that he was dead long ago.”
“You are mistaken, husband, a devil never dies. He is seeking Brant’s treasure, and he knows that we have its secret. You can guess the rest. More, now that I think of it, I have heard that a strange Spaniard is lodging with Hague Simon, he whom they call the Butcher, and Black Meg, of whom we have cause to know. Doubtless it is he, and—Dirk, death overshadows us.”
“Why should he know of Brant’s treasure, wife?”
“Because _he is Ramiro_, the man who dogged him down, the man who followed the ship _Swallow_ to the Haarlemer Meer. Elsa was with me this afternoon, she knew him again.”
Dirk thought a while, resting his head upon his hand. Then he lifted it and said:
“I am very glad that I sent the money to Munt and Brown, Heaven gave me that thought. Well, wife, what is your counsel now?”
“My counsel is that we should fly from Leyden—all of us, yes, this very night before worse happens.”
He smiled. “That cannot be; there are no means of flight, and under the new laws we could not pass the gates; that trick has been played too often. Still, in a day or two, when I have had time to arrange, we might escape if you still wish to go.”
“To-night, to-night,” she urged, “or some of us stay for ever.”
“I tell you, wife, it is not possible. Am I a rat that I should be bolted from my hole thus by this ferret of a Montalvo? I am a man of peace and no longer young, but let him beware lest I stop here long enough to pass a sword through him.”
“So be it, husband,” she replied, “but I think it is through my heart that the sword will pass,” and she burst out weeping.
Supper that night was a somewhat melancholy meal. Dirk and Lysbeth sat at the ends of the table in silence. On one side of fit were placed Foy and Elsa, who were also silent for a very different reason, while opposite to them was Adrian, who watched Elsa with an anxious and inquiring eye.
That the love potion worked he was certain, for she looked confused and a little flushed; also, as would be natural under the circumstances, she avoided his glance and made pretence to be interested in Foy, who seemed rather more stupid than usual. Well, so soon as he could find his chance all this would be cleared up, but meanwhile the general gloom and silence were affecting his nerves.