“Welcome, Foy van Goorl,” said the man in a gentle voice. “Many years have passed since last we met; still I should have known you anywhere, though I think you would not have known me.” Foy looked at him and shook his head. “I thought so,” went on the man with a smile. “Well, I am Hendrik Brant, your cousin, once the burgomaster of The Hague and its richest citizen, but to-day a hunted rat who must receive his guests in secret cellars. Tell me now, did my daughter, Elsa, reach your good father’s house in safety, and is she well?” So Foy told him all that story. “As I thought, as I thought,” said Hendrik. “Ramiro knew of her journey and guessed that she might carry some letter. Oh!” he went on, shaking his fist in a kind of frenzy, and addressing the two women who had played the parts of Red Bow and her servant, “who among you is the traitor? Can it be that you, whom my bounty has fed, betray me? Nay, girls, do not weep, I know that it is not so, and yet, in this city, the very walls have ears, yes, even this deep vault gives up its secrets. Well, if only I can save my fortune from those wolves, what do I care? Then they may take my carcase and tear it. At least, my daughter is safe—for a while, and now I have but one desire left on earth—to rob them of my wealth also.” Then he turned to the girl decked out in the gay clothes, who, now that the chase was over, sat upon a bench with her face hidden in her hand, and said, “Tell me your story, Gretchen,” whereon she lifted her head and repeated all that happened. “They press us hard,” muttered Brant, “but, friends, we will beat them yet. Eat now, and drink while you may.” So they sat down and ate and drank while Hendrik watched them, and the man who had led them to the vault listened without the door. When they had finished, Brant bade the two women, Red Bow and the other, leave the cellar and send in the sentry, replacing him as guards. He entered, a hard-faced, grizzled man, and, taking a seat at the table, began to fill himself with food and wine.