"Yes, yes; I know you mean to pay me--if you can. But look you, Mynheer Philip, it may be some time before you sell the cottage. You may not find a customer. Now, I never wish to be hard upon people who have no money, and I'll tell you what I'll do. There is a something on your mother's neck. It is of no value, none at all, but to a good Catholic. To help you in your strait, I will take that thing, and then we shall be quits. You will have paid me, and there will be an end of it." Philip listened calmly: he knew to what the little miser had referred,--the relic on his mother's neck--that very relic upon which his father swore the fatal oath. He felt that millions of guilders would not have induced him to part with it. "Leave the house," answered he abruptly. "Leave it immediately. Your money shall be paid." Now, Mynheer Poots, in the first place, knew that the setting of the relic, which was in a square frame of pure gold, was worth much more than the sum due to him: he also knew that a large price had been paid for the relic itself, and as at that time such a relic was considered very valuable, he had no doubt but that it would again fetch a considerable sum. Tempted by the sight of it when he entered the chamber of death, he had taken it from the neck of the corpse, and it was then actually concealed in his bosom, so he replied-- "My offer is a good one, Mynheer Philip, and you had better take it. Of what use is such trash?" "I tell you, no," cried Philip, in a rage. "Well, then, you will let me have it in my possession till I am paid, Mynheer Vanderdecken--that is but fair. I must not lose my money. When you bring me my three guilders and a half and the phial, I will return it to you." Philip's indignation was now without bounds. He seized Mynheer Poots by the collar, and threw him out of the door. "Away immediately," cried he, "or by--" There was no occasion for Philip to finish the imprecation. The doctor had hastened away with such alarm, that he fell down half the steps of the staircase, and was limping away across the bridge. He almost wished that the relic had not been in his possession; but his sudden retreat had prevented him, even if so inclined, from replacing it on the corpse. The result of this conversation naturally turned Philip's thoughts to the relic, and he went into his mother's room to take possession of it. He opened the curtains--the corpse was laid out--he put forth his hand to untie the black ribbon. It was not there. "Gone!" exclaimed Philip. "They hardly would have removed it--never would--. It must be that villain Poots--wretch; but I will have it, even if he has swallowed it, though I tear him limb from limb!"