You may wonder that I showed mercy to so heinous a villain: hear my reasons. I might have slain him; but then I should have had no confession, such as I needed to right Jan Verhoeff. I might have extorted the confession from him, and then delivered him to the council for formal trial and meet punishment; but then many things would have come to light that it were best to keep hidden, especially the questionable part played by the Burgomaster, the which for the sake of the city, and more also for the sake of Mistress Jacqueline, I would fain leave enshrouded. Furthermore, I had now the hold upon goodman Burgomaster that I needed to assure the happiness of two young souls. Leaving Volmar a shrunken heap in his chair, and being fully assured that Bargen would be no more troubled with him, I made my way to Mynheer Warmond’s house. As I came to the door, there issued forth the Captain of the Guard, whose countenance put on a most sorrowful look when he beheld me. He halted upon the threshold, heaved a sigh, then took me by the sleeve and said— "Sir, I hold a warrant for your arrest under the hand and seal of the Burgomaster, and to be executed at seven of the clock to-morrow morning." "Let not that trouble you," said I, and had he been my own countryman, in my gaiety of heart I should have poked him in the ribs; such a pleasantry is inexpedient with a Dutch burgher. "Come for me here within a half hour, and I avouch your warrant will be annulled." He left me, wondering. I entered to the Burgomaster, who fell a-trembling when he saw me, and demanded with a stammering tongue what my business was with him upon the Sabbath. I told him very shortly, and never in my life have I seen so piteous a spectacle as that little round rubicund man at the hearing of my story. His conscience pricked him sore, in that he had harkened to ill counsels and dallied with the thought of surrendering. His lips quivered, his limbs shook as with palsy, and with the back of his hand he brushed away the tears that coursed down his fat cheeks. He besought me very earnestly to advise him what he must do, mingling together in lamentable outcry his good name and his daughter that loved him. [Illustration: I TOLD HIM VERY SHORTLY, AND NEVER IN MY LIFE HAVE I SEEN SO PITEOUS A SPECTACLE AS THAT LITTLE ROUND RUBICUND MAN AT THE HEARING OF MY STORY] "Mynheer," said I, "there are two things you may do. The first is, to keep silence. This unhappy business is known wholly to none but you, Cosmo Volmar, and myself—and in part to my servant and Jan Verhoeff, who have their reasons for holding their peace. The second is, to undo the wrong you have done your daughter and her promised husband. Thus you will both preserve the reputation for courage you won at the point of the ham bone"—(I could not withhold this quip)—"and win a new renown for fatherly indulgence and magnanimity of soul."