“Five muskets discharged at short range, one in your very face; none of them brought you down. I had to club you with the butt end of my musket.” “Strange how they came to miss me.” “Not strange at all. I unloaded them. Hush, don’t stop to thank me now. They are coming. I hope he will not want to look into the box.” A moment later the patroon and one of his men entered. “Is your work done, Louis?” “Yes, sir; your orders are always obeyed, though Barker and I had to sweat for it.” “Good. You shall have your reward.” (This to me.) “Now help us carry this out. We have got the grave all ready.” The four of us took up the box and marched slowly out with it. We crossed a courtyard into another shed. It was dusk outside, but quite dark where we were going. I could see piles of lumber, boxes and barrels on either side; and, at the far end, a couple of disused vats. Everything was gloomy and still and solemn. Beyond the vats a light was burning, and here we found the fifth man sitting beside my—nay, Barker’s grave. The patroon urged speed, and we were not long in burying the coffin. Then we covered it with boards and debris so as to obliterate all traces of our presence and the grave. When we paused at the end to survey our work, I heard Louis mutter to the patroon: “’Tis not the first time we have done a piece of work like this.” There came into Van Volkenberg’s face that dogged look of hate that I had seen in the council chamber the day I had humbled him in the presence of his peers. Had I known nothing about him but that look, I should have known that a day of reckoning was at hand for the henchman. Van Volkenberg’s only reply, however, was: “Remember Ronald Guy.” We were now ready to go out. As soon as we were on our journey homeward, the patroon touched me on the arm and motioned me silently to drop back with him. “You have done well, Barker. You have obeyed orders without asking questions. Do you feel no curiosity to know why he died?” “It is not my place to observe that men are much like women in the matter of trifles.” “Trifles! Do you call the death of a living man a trifle! Bah; but ’tis a shrewd hint, my honest man. I shall reward you with my confidence. I shall not honor the others so. Even Louis does not know what I am going to tell you. That man was Bellamont’s spy.” “Spy,” I cried. “Yes, my trusty Barker. A spy sent by the enemy of the Red Band.” “So perish all her enemies.” “Do you think so?” asked the patroon in a tone of condescension, as if he really wanted my corroboration. “If you really believe that, heart and soul, I have some work for you that will raise you high as an officer of mine. There is still another spy in the very bosom of the Red Band.” “Another! Two of them! Who is he?” “That prancing ape ahead.” “Louis Van Ramm?” “Louis Van Ramm.” “I am astonished. We all thought he was our master’s dearest man.”