“He’ll—he’ll ruin me! What an ingrate villain she’ll think me! Damnation! to have my reputation hang upon this drinking debauchee,” falters Guy. Then he cries out: “What shall I do? Advise me, Oliver. I must go to Middelburg and meet him hand to hand; I must kill this fellow before he ruins my every hope of happiness on earth.” “Don’t,” chuckles Oliver, “for if you kill Major Guido Amati, Hermoine de Alva will go in to mourning.” “Mourning for him?” “No, for YOU. If I am not mistaken she loves you very deeply. But your conduct, my dear boy, has given her great unhappiness.” Then in spite of himself the painter bursts into a laugh and jeers: “Diable, I see you doing penance for Major Guido Amati’s sins at the feet of your lady love! But come to supper.” “I can’t eat. Don’t laugh at me.” “Oh yes you can. If fair Hermoine didn’t have spasms of rage and despair each time she thinks Major Guido Amati is a very wild, reckless fellow, then it would be time to lose your appetite. When Doña Hermoine de Alva ceases to care for what Major Guido Amati does, then let Guy Chester despair.” “On this view of the case I’ll go to supper with you,” answers Guy heartily. And the two go off, not to one of the great inns of Antwerp this time, but to the near-by Tower of the Angels, where they get a fearful meal, though Chester seems to have an appetite now—even for its unsavory cuisine and sour wine. Coming back from this they fall to discussing the immediate business of Guy’s visit to this city of his enemies, and decide upon the following plan: Chester is to go to work unloading his vessel in sailor style. Oliver, from his knowledge of the town, is to make the necessary investigations and have the keys manufactured. “It wouldn’t be safe,” he says, “to have them all made by one locksmith. I’ll make a copy of this drawing, placing the draft for each key on a separate piece of paper. You keep the originals. I’ll leave a draft of key number one with a mechanic that I know, the drawing of number two with a locksmith in another part of the city. In fact, I’d better have the other two keys made in other towns, as their guilds bring workmen together and word might get about of our orders, for these keys are very curious in their design, and will cost a good deal of money.” “As to that,” says Guy, “I’ve got plenty for the business.” So it is finally settled that one key is to be made at Antwerp, one at the near-by town of Malines, and the other in the capital itself. Antony is also to investigate the house near the Esplanade and see if it is as described and kept by the old deaf and dumb Spanish woman. “I must go at once to Brussels to have the key made, leaving one on the route at Malines,” says Oliver. “Let me take the journey,” suggests Guy very eagerly. “You have work to do here.”