After a while I began to feel ashamed of my feebleness of mind and body. I recalled how I had once berated a man for cowardice who was in much the same plight on that flight from Paris years before when my sister was a child and in my care. I began to apply the same words to myself that I had applied to him then, and presently my spirit was returning to me. With the change came, fiercer than ever, my hatred for my enemy. This slaying a man in the dark and by traps was more than I could stand. What infuriated me most was the presence of Annetje in the fray. Of course the patroon thought that it was his daughter who had ridden out with me, yet he led the attack in spite of her presence. Though he knew she would sustain no bodily harm, he should have remembered the terrible shock it must have given her. This brutality to her was the match that kindled me into countenance again. With the thought of it I was on my feet, with my hand upon my sword hilt, ready to keep my promise to Annetje Dorn. But as yet I had no plan. I set out, however, towards the tannery, resolved to get back my own clothes. I had no difficulty in finding the way, but I had no light and it was slow work unloading the debris we had piled upon the grave. It was done at last, however, and when I reached the coffin I pried off the cover with the blade of my sword. It made me shudder to put on the clothes that the dead man had worn for so many hours, but I forced myself to do it and felt the better when it was done. It was about dawn by this time, and after I had hidden Barker’s clothes—for I might need them as a disguise—I occupied an hour, restoring the corner to its former appearance of undisturbed disorder. As it was now broad daylight I set out for the manor-house, minded to stay about till shortly before nine o’clock, for at that time I knew the patroon intended to set out with Louis for the Hanging Rock. I sat down to wait, but soon an incident occurred that spoiled all the plans I had been forming in the last hour. I had taken a seat at the foot of a tree in the park, merely to wait till later. Soon I heard footsteps, and then saw the young mistress coming with a basket in her hand. I rose to my feet. “Mistress Van Volkenberg,” I said. She gave a scream and dropped her basket. I was by her side instantly. “What is the matter?” I asked, excitedly, never thinking that it was the sight of me which had caused her to cry out and drop her basket. “Matter! We thought you were dead. The utmost search, my father says, revealed no trace of the ruffians who attacked you. How did you escape?” For a moment I was in doubt as to whether to tell her the truth or not. Then we sat down on the grass and I related the whole adventure to her from the beginning to the end, keeping back only the names of the persons who had been involved. Of the fact that her father had been privy to it, I gave not the least hint.