ive the punishment
which his infamy deserves."

"But he did not act on his own initiative," she said eagerly, "another
man more powerful, richer than he prompted him--paid him--tempted
him...."

Stoutenburg made a gesture of infinite contempt.

"So, no doubt, he has told you, Gilda. Men of his stamp are always
cowards at heart, even though they have a certain brutish instinct for
fighting--mostly in self-defence. He tried to palliate his guilt before
you by involving me in its responsibility."

"You," she whispered under her breath, "or one of your friends."

"You mean your brother Nicolaes," he rejoined quietly. "Ah! the man is
even a more arrant knave than I thought. So! he has tried to fasten the
responsibility for this outrage against your person, firstly on me who
worship the very ground you walk on, secondly on the brother whom you
love?"

"No, no," she protested eagerly, "I did not say that. It was I who...."

"Who thought so ill of me," broke in Stoutenburg with gentle reproach,
"of me and of Nicolaes. You questioned the rogue, and he did not deny
it, nay more he enlarged upon the idea, which would place all the
profits of this abominable transaction in his hands and yet exonerate
him from guilt. But you shall question him yourself, Gilda. By his
looks, by his answers, by his attitude you will be able to judge if I or
Nicolaes--or any of our friends, have paid him to lay hands upon you.
Remember however," he added significantly, "that such a low-born knave
will always lie to save his skin, so this do I entreat of you on my
knees: judge by his looks more than by his words, and demand a proof of
what he asserts."

"I will judge, my lord, as I think best," she retorted coldly. "And now,
I pray you, send for the man. I would like to hear what he has to say."

Stoutenburg immediately turned to obey: there was a guard outside the
door, and it was easy to send one of the men with orders to Jan to bring
the prisoner hither.

Within himself he was frankly taken aback at Gilda's ready
acquiescence--nay obvious desire to parley with the foreigner. A sharp
pang of jealousy had shot through his heart when he saw her glowing
eyes, her eagerness to defend the knave. The instinct that guided his
fierce love for Gilda, had quickly warned him that here was a danger of
which he had never even dreamed.

Women were easily swayed, he thought, by a smooth tongue and a grand
manner, both of which--Stoutenburg was bound to