asked with a bitter laugh. "I go
back to my death, my blood is the price of your freedom. Well, I owe it
to you."

"Oh! no," she cried, "come with us."

"Yes," echoed Foy, although again that bitter pang of jealousy gripped
his heart, "come with us--brother."

"Do you really mean it?" Adrian asked, hesitating. "Think, I might
betray you."

"If so, young man, why did you not do it before?" growled Martin, and
stretching out his great, bony arm he gripped him by the collar and
dragged him into the boat.

Then they rowed away.

"Where are we going?" asked Martin.

"To Leyden, I suppose," said Foy, "if we can get there, which, without a
sail or weapons, seems unlikely."

"I have put some arms in the boat," interrupted Adrian, "the best I
could get," and from a locker he drew out a common heavy axe, a couple
of Spanish swords, a knife, a smaller axe, a cross-bow and some bolts.

"Not so bad," said Martin, rowing with his left hand as he handled the
big axe with his right, "but I wish that I had my sword Silence, which
that accursed Ramiro took from me and hung about his neck. I wonder
why he troubled himself with the thing? It is too long for a man of his
inches."

"I don't know," said Adrian, "but when last I saw him he was working
at its hilt with a chisel, which seemed strange. He always wanted that
sword. During the siege he offered a large reward to any soldier who
could kill you and bring it to him."

"Working at the hilt with a chisel?" gasped Martin. "By Heaven, I had
forgotten! The map, the map! Some wicked villain must have told him that
the map of the treasure was there--that is why he wanted the sword."

"Who could have told him?" asked Foy. "It was only known to you and
me and Martha, and we are not of the sort to tell. What? Give away the
secret of Hendrik Brant's treasure which he could die for and we were
sworn to keep, to save our miserable lives? Shame upon the thought!"

Martha heard, and looked at Elsa, a questioning look beneath which the
poor girl turned a fiery red, though by good fortune in that light none
could see her blushes. Still, she must speak lest the suspicion should
lie on others.

"I ought to have told you before," she said in a low voice, "but I
forgot--I mean that I have always been so dreadfully ashamed. It was I
who betrayed the secret of the sword Silence."

"You? How did you know it?" asked Foy.

"Mother Martha told me on the night of the church burning after you