Now I did not love Mynheer Jan Verhoeff. We had had little communication; in truth, he shunned me, and when we met at table he seldom opened his lips save only to engulf his food, whereby I had come to look upon him as a morose and lubberly fellow. Furthermore, I misliked his goings and comings secretly by night, and his denial of the service he had done me; for I was firmly persuaded that Verhoeff and Van der Kloof were one and the same. Wherefore, when we were closeted in that little room of the bailey, and he opposed a sullen and stubborn silence to my proffer of help, I was ready to wash my hands of his affair and let him hang. But remembering the widow lady his mother, and bethinking me that his ungracious bearing perchance were nothing but the austerity of an honest man wronged, I curbed my impatience and set myself to reason with him. I showed him how his secret sallies by night, whatsoever their purpose might be, must needs breed suspicion in the minds of those burdened with the defence of the city, and that if his intent were honest, to reveal it could at the least work him no harm. And, hinting that I myself harboured certain suspicions, the which he might aid me to resolve, I at length prevailed upon him to make full confession and disclosure. And this is what he told me. Being near the Burgomaster’s house one evening (for what purpose I forbore to inquire), he had seen Mynheer Volmar issue forth, and, instead of making straight for his own house, stand a while looking heedfully around, and then proceed towards the ramparts, in the furtive manner of one that avoids observation. Bearing him ill-will as his supplanter in the graces of Mistress Jacqueline, and suspecting he knew not what, Verhoeff dogged him circumspectly to the wall, and there beheld him sit upon a culverin and gaze intently towards the trenches of the enemy. A sentinel was pacing up and down, and to him Volmar addressed a few words in a whisper, whereupon he stood fast, and Volmar hastened to the embrasure of the parapet. Immediately thereafter, Verhoeff caught the sound of a low whistle, followed eftsoon by a faint answer, as it were an echo, from below. Then Volmar drew some white thing from his pocket, wound a cord about it, and, as it appeared to Verhoeff, let it down into the moat. In a little there came again a dull and hollow sound, and Volmar withdrew himself and returned into the city, murmuring a word to the sentinel as he passed. On the morrow Verhoeff took pains to inform himself of the name of the sentinel at that place, and was not astonished to find that he was of Mynheer Volmar’s household. In that time of trouble every man, whatsoever his rank and condition, had his part in the city’s defence.