This all seemed fair enough; and the burgomaster, who was an honest man and blessed with true Dutch stolidity, after consulting with his clerk and colleague, informed me that inquiries would be made, and that meanwhile I should remain in custody. To my request to be allowed to send a letter to Biddy he returned a flat and suspicious refusal. Nor, till my case stood clearer, would he order the removal of the irons. So for the next twenty-four hours I lay in a damp cell, with black bread and water to support my spirits, and the thought of my little mistress to carry me through the weary hours. About noon next day I was again summoned to the burgomaster's court, where, among the curious crowd assembled to see the supposed English spy, I recognised not only the Dutch skipper, but Martin. Biddy was not there. The burgomaster wore an air of sternness and self-importance which boded no good. "Captain Koop," said he to the skipper, "identify the prisoner." "Most worshipful," replied the sailor, "this is the man we picked up, who said he was a Frenchman, wrecked in the French ship _Zebre_." "Was that true?" said the judge to me. "Mynheer, I told you my tale yesterday. I am no Frenchman." Then Martin was called forward, and looked hard at me with his sinister eyes. An interpreter explained the burgomaster's questions. "Witness, you state you know the man Gallagher. Is this he?" "Now I look at him--yes; but I did not know him before with his beard." "Is he a sailor in the service of the English Government?" "He is; and no friend to the Irish people, for whom the Dutch republic is fighting. More, by tokens, your honour," added Martin through the interpreter, "now I know him, I know who it was who last night carried away a certain Irish lady under my protection while on her way to the Convent of the Carmelite Nuns." "What do you say to that?" said the burgomaster to me, with a look of horror, for he was a stout Catholic. "I don't deny it," said I, curtly; "nor do I deny that this blackguard, instead of trying to defend the lady, tumbled all of a heap with fright off the carriage-box on to the road when I accosted him." The interpreter smiled as he translated this, and Martin looked round not too well pleased. "Where is the lady?" demanded the burgomaster. "That is my affair," said I. "She was carried away from her home by this man against her will. She was rescued from him by me with her own good will, and is now safe." "With your friend at the Hague, doubtless?" I made no answer. "Inquiries have been made as to this friend. She is known, but has disappeared since yesterday." "What!" I exclaimed, "Biddy gone? And what of--" "In company with a young lady," said the burgomaster, eyeing me sternly. "Prisoner, I demand to know where these persons have gone." "I do not know," said I, and my own bewilderment might have answered for my sincerity.