“Tell me about it, Martin, for I was at The Hague at the time, and can’t remember. Of course I don’t approve of such things”—and the young rascal clasped his hands and looked pious—“but as it is all done with, one may as well hear the story of the fight. To spin it won’t make you more wicked than you are.” Then suddenly Martin the unreminiscent developed a marvellous memory, and with much wealth of detail set out the exact circumstances of that historic encounter. “And after he had kicked me in the stomach,” he ended, “which, master, you will know he had no right to do, I lost my temper and hit out with all my strength, having first feinted and knocked up his guard with my left arm——” “And then,” said Foy, growing excited, for Martin really told the story very well, “what happened?” “Oh, his head went back between his shoulders, and when they picked him up, his neck was broken. I was sorry, but I couldn’t help it, the Lord knows I couldn’t help it; he shouldn’t have called me ‘a dirty Frisian ox’ and kicked me in the stomach.” “No, that was very wrong of him. But they arrested you, didn’t they, Martin?” “Yes, for the second time they condemned me to death as a brawler and a manslayer. You see, the other Friesland business came up against me, and the magistrates here had money on the Spaniard. Then your dear father saved me. He was burgomaster of that year, and he paid the death fine for me—a large sum—afterwards, too, he taught me to be sober and think of my soul. So you know why Red Martin will serve him and his while there is a drop of blood left in his worthless carcase. And now, Master Foy, I’m going to sleep, and God grant that those dirty Spanish dogs mayn’t haunt me.” “Don’t you fear for that, Martin,” said Foy as he took his departure, “_absolvo te_ for those Spaniards. Through your strength God smote them who were not ashamed to rob and insult a poor new widowed woman after helping to murder her husband. Yes, Martin, you may enter that on the right side of the ledger—for a change—for they won’t haunt you at night. I’m more afraid lest the business should be traced home to us, but I don’t think it likely since the street was quite empty.” “Quite empty,” echoed Martin nodding his head. “Nobody saw me except the two soldiers and Vrouw Jansen. They can’t tell, and I’m sure that she won’t. Good-night, my young master.” CHAPTER X ADRIAN GOES OUT HAWKING