in the face, to gloat for awhile longer on the sight of his
enemy now completely in his power. But all around in the gloom he
perceived figures that moved; the soldiers and mercenaries placed at his
disposal by his friends were here in numbers: some of them had been put
on guard over the prisoner by Jan, and others had joined them, attracted
by loud voices.

Stoutenburg had just enough presence of mind left in him to realize that
the brutal striking of a defenceless prisoner would probably horrify
these men, who were fighters and not bullies, and might even cause them
to turn from their allegiance to him.

So with desperate effort he pulled himself together and contrived to
give with outward calm some final orders to Jan.

"See that the ropes are securely fastened, Jan," he said, "leave half a
dozen men on guard, then follow me."

But to Beresteyn, who had at last succeeded in dragging him away from
this spot, he said loudly:

"You do not know, Nicolaes, what a joy it is to me to be even with that
fellow at last."

A prolonged laugh, that had a note of triumph in it, gave answer to this
taunt, whilst a clear voice shouted lustily:

"Nay! we never can be quite even, my lord; since you were not trussed
like a capon when I forced you to lick the dust."

CHAPTER XXXIV

PROTESTATIONS

Half-an-hour later, the Lord of Stoutenburg was in Gilda's presence. He
was glad enough that Nicolaes Beresteyn--afraid to meet his sister--had
refused to accompany him. He, too, felt nervous and anxious at thought
of meeting her face to face at last. He had not spoken to her since that
day in March when he was a miserable fugitive--in a far worse plight
than was the wounded man tied with cords to a beam. He had been a hunted
creature then, every man's hand raised against him, his life at the
mercy of any passer-by, and she had given him shelter freely and
fearlessly--shelter and kind words--and her ministrations had brought
him luck, for he succeeded in reaching the coast after he parted from
her, and finding shelter once more in a foreign land.

Since then her image had filled his dreams by night and his thoughts by
day. His earlier love for her, smothered by ambition, rose up at once
more strong, more insistent than before; it became during all these
months of renewed intrigues and plots the one ennobling trait in his
tortuous character. His love for Gilda was in itself not a selfish
feeling; neither ambition nor the me