hey buried it, and have lost the map they made. Whatever may be the
exact wording of the will, that hoard belongs to my cousin here, subject
to certain trusts which have not yet arisen, and may never arise, and I
am her guardian while Hendrik Brant lives and his executor when he dies.
Therefore, legally, it belongs to me also. By what right, then, do my
son and my servant hide the truth from me, if, indeed, they are hiding
the truth? Say what you have to say straight out, for I am a plain man
and cannot read riddles."

"Then I will say it, husband, though it is but my guess, for I have had
no words with Foy or Martin, and if I am wrong they can correct me. I
know their faces, and I think with you that they are not speaking the
truth. I think that they do not wish us to know it--not that they may
keep the secret of this treasure for themselves, but because such a
secret might well bring those who know of it to the torment and the
stake. Is it not so, my son?"

"Mother," answered Foy, almost in a whisper, "it is so. The paper is not
lost, but do not seek to learn its hiding-place, for there are wolves
who would tear your bodies limb from limb to get the knowledge out of
you; yes, even Elsa's, even Elsa's. If the trial must come let it fall
on me and Martin, who are fitter to bear it. Oh! father, surely you know
that, whatever we may be, neither of us is a thief."

Dirk advanced to his son, and kissed him on the forehead.

"My son," he said, "pardon me, and you, Red Martin, pardon me also. I
spoke in my haste. I spoke as a fool, who, at my age, should have known
better. But, oh! I tell you that I wish that this cursed treasure, these
cases of precious gems and these kegs of hoarded gold, had been shivered
to the winds of heaven with the timbers of the ship _Swallow_. For, mark
you, Ramiro has escaped, and with him another man, and they will know
well that having the night to hide it, you did not destroy those jewels
with the ship. They will track you down, these Spanish sleuthhounds,
filled with the lust of blood and gold, and it will be well if the
lives of every one of us do not pay the price of the secret of the
burying-place of the wealth of Hendrik Brant."

He ceased, pale and trembling, and a silence fell upon the room and all
in it, a sad and heavy silence, for in his voice they caught the note of
prophecy. Martin broke it.

"It may be so, master," he said; "but, your pardon, you should have
thought of that be