We must here inform our readers that Mynheer Poots, when coming home, had heard the report of fire-arms in the direction of his own house. The recollection of his daughter and of his money--for to do him justice he did love her best--had lent him wings; he forgot that he was a feeble old man and without arms; all he thought of was to gain his habitation. On he came, reckless, frantic, and shouting, and rushed into the arms of the two robbers, who seized and would have despatched him, had not Philip so opportunely come to his assistance. As soon as the last robber fell, Philip disengaged himself and went to the assistance of Mynheer Poots, whom he raised up in his arms, and carried into the house as if he were an infant. The old man was still in a state of delirium from fear and previous excitement. In a few minutes Mynheer Poots was more coherent. "My daughter!" exclaimed he--"my daughter! where is she?" "She is here, father, and safe," replied Amine. "Ah! my child is safe," said he, opening his eyes and staring. "Yes, it is even so--and my money--my money--where is my money?" continued he, starting up. "Quite safe, father." "Quite safe--you say quite safe--are you sure of it?--let me see." "There it is, father, as you may perceive, quite safe--thanks to one whom you have not treated so well." "Who--what do you mean?--Ah, yes, I see him now--'tis Philip Vanderdecken--he owes me three guilders and a half, and there is a phial--did he save you--and my money, child?" "He did, indeed, at the risk of his life." "Well, well, I will forgive him the whole debt--yes, the whole of it; but--the phial is of no use to him--he must return that. Give me some water." It was some time before the old man could regain his perfect reason. Philip left him with his daughter, and, taking a brace of loaded pistols, went out to ascertain the fate of the four assailants. The moon having climbed above the banks of clouds which had obscured her, was now high in the heavens, shining bright, and he could distinguish clearly. The two men lying across the threshold of the door were quite dead. The others, who had seized upon Mynheer Poots, were still alive, but one was expiring and the other bled fast. Philip put a few questions to the latter, but he either would not or could not make any reply; he removed their weapons and returned to the house, where he found the old man attended by his daughter, in a state of comparative composure. "I thank you, Philip Vanderdecken--I thank you much. You have saved my dear child, and my money--that is little, very little--for I am poor. May you live long and happily!" Philip mused; the letter and his vow were, for the first time since he fell in with the robbers, recalled to his recollection, and a shade passed over his countenance. "Long and happily--no, no," muttered he, with an involuntary shake of the head.