ers, he
allowed his mind to become more and more absorbed in the great problem
which confronted him since he had pledged his word to Mynheer Beresteyn
to bring the jongejuffrouw safely back to him.

He now moved more mechanically over the iceways, taking no account of
time or space or distance, only noting with the mere eye of instinct the
various landmarks which loomed up from time to time out of the fast
gathering darkness.

This coming darkness he welcomed, for he knew his way well, and it would
prove his staunch ally against pursuit. For the rest he was conscious
neither of cold, of hunger nor of fatigue. Pleasant thoughts helped to
cheer his spirits and to give strength to his limbs. His brief visit to
Haarlem had indeed been fruitful of experiences. A problem confronted
him which he had made up his mind to solve during his progress across
the ice in the night. How to keep his word to Nicolaes Beresteyn, and
yet bring the jongejuffrouw safely back to her father.

She would not, of course, willingly follow him, and his would once again
be the uncongenial task of carrying her off by force if he was to
succeed in his new venture.

A fortune if he brought her back! That sounded simple enough, and the
thought of it caused the philosopher's blood to tingle with delight.

A fortune if he brought her back! It would have to be done after he had
handed her over into the care of Mynheer Ben Isaje at Rotterdam. He was
pledged to do that, but once this was accomplished--his word to Nicolaes
Beresteyn would be redeemed.

A fortune if he brought her back! And when he had brought her back she
would tell of his share in her abduction, and instead of the fortune
mayhap the gallows would be meted out to him.

'Twas a puzzle, a hard nut for a philosopher to crack. It would be the
work of an adventurer, of a man accustomed to take every risk on the
mere chance of success.

But Gilda's image never left him for one moment while his thoughts were
busy with that difficult problem. For the first time now he realized the
utter pathos of her helplessness. The proud little vixen, as he had
dubbed her a while ago, was after all but a poor defenceless girl tossed
hither and thither just to suit the ambitions of men. Did she really
love that unscrupulous and cruel Stoutenburg, he wondered. Surely she
must love him, for she did not look the kind of woman who would plight
her troth against her will. She loved him and would marry him, her s