She shook out the handkerchief and thrust her finger through a tiny hole in one corner. In vain I told her it was all the better for that. She only brushed me lightly in the face with it and ran up stairs laughing. All this and many other things were in my head as I walked back and forth like a sentinel before the door of the dining room. Soon the sound of other voices besides those of my master and Captain Kidd became audible. They were above stairs and seemed to come from the upper landing. One I recognized immediately as Annetje’s. The other person could be none but her mistress; though I heard but little that she said, who else would be with Annetje at this hour of the night? There was a lamp burning in the hall whose light fell dimly upon the foot of the stairs, but all above the fifth or sixth step was as dark as the pit. “Look on the bottom step, Monsieur St. Vincent,” I heard Annetje whisper. I glanced at the door of the dining room and then walked sideways towards the stairs, so that I could keep my eyes cast backward and attend to my duty at the same time. On the bottom step lay a patch of white which I caught up eagerly, for it was the very handkerchief I wanted, hole, wrinkles and all. “It is for you,” said Annetje from the dark above. “She sends it with her—” A hand must have been clapped over her mouth, she stopped so suddenly. I hardly dared to hope for that last word. No matter; I had the handkerchief safe, at least. I called up my thanks, though I could not see either of them and was soon back at my post. When Van Volkenberg and Kidd came out, we retraced the journey of two hours previous, dropping down river and transferring Kidd to his own boat. And with this one appearance he vanishes from these pages. During those two hours when they were closeted in the dining room, he and the patroon hatched a plan which indirectly affected us mightily, but whose ultimate success transpired too late to influence the fortunes of the patroon. As everyone knows, Captain Kidd sailed from New York an honorable merchant and well trusted by the government. When he was next heard of he was a jolly pirate on the high seas, flying the black flag. But he was only an amateur buccaneer after all, and found pirating less to his mind than he had hoped for. So he sat in his cabin till he had fashioned a whole book full of lies to explain how he had been made the victim of his crew and how he had meant to deal honestly with the King’s commission. Thus armed he sailed boldly into Boston harbor, where he was promptly arrested to answer for his crimes. For a time it looked as if his treachery would stain the honor of his patron. But at length Bellamont was cleared beyond a doubt of all complicity, and Kidd was sentenced to hang by the neck till he was dead.