“What is it?” cried the patroon in alarm, at the same time springing into the room. “There is no one here,” answered the man who had made this attack upon my bed. “So much the worse for you,” returned his master. “Quick; we must get out of here. He is probably down stairs upon the terrace. He may come back.” Then I beheld a scene the meaning of which I could but guess. The fellow who, from his size, could have overmatched both the patroon and the dwarf, cast away his sword, which fell with a loud clash upon the wooden floor. He forgot all caution in his abject terror. He threw himself before the patroon and clung to his knees. “Mercy, mercy,” he pleaded. “Have mercy.” “Hush,” answered his master. “I offered you life for life. The man is not here. It cannot be. You are doomed.” “I cannot die, I cannot die, I cannot die,” he wailed. Louis sprang to the fellow’s side and clapped his hand over his mouth to smother his cries. Then the three men prepared to leave the room as they had come, by the window. The patroon went first. He walked backward, holding his drawn sword before him. Louis was in the rear, dragging the great weapon that the murderer had cast away. I was soon to behold with horror the sequel to this scene, from which I had so narrowly escaped with my life. As yet, however, I could but guess the meaning of it. For the benefit of those who are not familiar with the history of those times, I must repeat what I have already hinted in regard to the powers of the patroons. They were much like the barons of the middle ages. They possessed, among other rights, the right to hold court, to try and condemn the persons who lived on their estate. It was not till later that I learned that Patroon Van Volkenberg had burst all bounds in this respect, and had carried this right so far that only his influence upon the island prevented a direct accusation from Bellamont. The patroons throughout the province saw with chagrin the growing power of the governor. It was their hope to end this for all time by some means, as yet not decided upon. Van Volkenberg alone, among them all, had had the courage to come out boldly and arm his household. This was, to his mind, the only way to advance the power of his class. The Red Band was the result. How it failed we shall learn in the following pages. When the time came for it to fall, it fell completely. Not a blot of it was left to cumber the earth. Even in my own day people have forgotten it. Only now and then do I find anyone who remembers the Red Band, and the rising of the people, and the fate of the patroon. But there are things in that old story of a past time that should be told, and therefore it is that I have set down this narrative to preserve a chronicle that has disappeared from the pages of history so completely that there are some who doubt its very existence.