My captors grunted by way of answer, and searched my pockets, from which they drew my pistol and the little leather case containing my mother's letter. I repeated my question in English, at which they pricked their ears, spoke something to one another in which the word "spy" occurred, and clapped irons on my ankles. Evidently then my crime was not horse-stealing, but that of being an English spy, which meant, I supposed, a volley at ten paces before noon. So here was an end to the business of Miss Kit, my sweetheart, and Tim, my brother. I confess, as it all dawned on me, I found myself smiling over my big hopes and resolves of an hour ago. But I had long enough to wait to lose all sense of humour, and sink into the most woeful depths of despair. It always happened so. The cup was ever at my lips, and as often rudely dashed aside. My little mistress had never before spoken so gently; my mother's dying charge had never been nearer fulfilment. And now, what could be further from my reach than either? How I execrated that ill-starred jade, and the Dutch skiver, but for whom I might at this moment have been my own master. In due time I was marched into the burgomaster's presence, and deemed it wise to make no further mystery of myself. I demanded an English interpreter, unless the magistrate would hear me in French, which latter he graciously agreed to do. "Sir," said I, "my name is Gallagher; I am an Irishman, a servant of King George, and a sailor in Admiral Duncan's fleet. I am, as I believe, the sole survivor of the wreck in mid-sea of his Majesty's ship _Zebra_, foully blown up by her mutinous crew. I was picked up by the Dutch brig _Scheldt_, now lying at Rotterdam. I am no spy. I rode last night to visit an acquaintance--a countrywoman at the Hague--and am on my way now to fulfil my promise to the skipper of the _Scheldt_ to give him a day's labour in unlading his brig in return for his kindness to me. The sailor's coat and cap I wear were given me by him." The magistrate heard my story attentively, and not altogether unfavourably. "Admiral Duncan's fleet," said he, "is in arms against the Dutch republic." "It is," said I. "How many sail does he muster?" demanded my judge. "I cannot tell you, mynheer," said I. "Where do his ships lie?" "Mynheer," said I, "would you expect a Dutch sailor to betray his country to an English magistrate? I refuse to answer." He frowned, less at my refusal than at the terms in which it was couched. "Give me the name of your acquaintance at the Hague," said he, changing the subject. I gave him Biddy's name. "What was your business with her?" "I never expected to land on Dutch shores, and so had no special business; but finding myself here, I sought her out."