which my husband, your brother
Foy, and Martin were condemned to death, on the grounds of heresy,
rebellion, and the killing of the king's servants. At the foot of it,
duly witnessed, stands the signature of--Adrian van Goorl."

Elsa's jaw fell. She stared at the traitor like one paralysed, while
Adrian, seizing the back of a chair, rested upon it, and rocked his body
to and fro.

"Have you anything to say?" asked Lysbeth.

There was still one chance for the wretched man--had he been more
dishonest than he was. He might have denied all knowledge of the
signature. But to do this never occurred to him. Instead, he plunged
into a wandering, scarcely intelligible, explanation, for even in his
dreadful plight his vanity would not permit him to tell all the truth
before Elsa. Moreover, in that fearful silence, soon he became utterly
bewildered, till at length he hardly knew what he was saying, and in the
end came to a full stop.

"I understand you to admit that you signed this paper in the house of
Hague Simon, and in the presence of a man called Ramiro, who is Governor
of the prison, and who showed it to me," said Lysbeth, lifting her head
which had sunk upon her breast.

"Yes, mother, I signed something, but----"

"I wish to hear no more," interrupted Lysbeth. "Whether your motive was
jealousy, or greed, or wickedness of heart, or fear, you signed that
which, had you been a man, you would not have yourself to be torn to
pieces with redhot pincers you put a pen to it. Moreover, you gave your
evidence fully and freely, for I have read it, and supported it with the
severed finger of the woman Meg which you stole from Foy's room. You
are the murderer of your benefactor and of your mother's heart, and
the would-be murderer of your brother and of Martin Roos. When you were
born, the mad wife, Martha, who nursed me, counselled that you should
be put to death, lest you should live to bring evil upon me and mine. I
refused, and you have brought the evil upon us all, but most, I think,
upon your own soul. I do not curse you, I call down no ill upon you;
Adrian, I give you over into the hands of God to deal with as He sees
fit. Here is money"--and, going to her desk, she took from it a heavy
purse of gold which had been prepared for their flight, and thrust it
into the pocket of his doublet, wiping her fingers upon her kerchief
after she had touched him. "Go hence and never let me see your face
again. You were born of my body,