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Ghysbrecht's attendants put him into it. "Go fetch the boxes," said he. They brought in two boxes, and then retired, leaving their master alone in the family he had so cruelly injured. Every eye was now bent on him, except Margaret's. He undid the boxes with unsteady fingers, and brought out of one the title-deeds of a property at Tergou.
"Why, master, what is the matter?" Ghysbrecht's pale lips worked as if he was going to answer; but they uttered no sound: his hands fell by his side, and he stared into the chest. "Why, master, what avails glaring into that empty box? The lad is not there. See here! note the cunning of the young rogue; he hath taken out the bar, and " "Gone! What is gone, Holy saints! he is planet-struck!"
Remorse for the past, and dread of the future the slow, but, as he now felt, the inevitable future avarice, and fear, all tugged in one short moment at Ghysbrecht's tough heart. He hung his head, and his arms fell listless by his sides. A coarse chuckle made him start round, and there stood Martin Wittenhaagen leaning on his bow, and sneering from ear to ear.
At sight of the man and his grinning face, Ghysbrecht's worst passions awoke. "Ho! attach him, seize him, traitor and thief!" cried he. "Dog, thou shalt pay for all." Martin, without a word, calmly thrust the duke's pardon under Ghysbrecht's nose. He looked, and had not a word to say. Martin followed up his advantage. "The duke and I are soldiers.
The next moment the three were in the wood. The yell of dismay and vengeance that burst from Ghysbrecht's men at that terrible blow which felled their leader, told the fugitives that it was now a race for life or death. "Why run?" cried Gerard, panting. "You have your bow, and I have this," and he shook his bloody staff. "Boy!" roared Martin; "the GALLOWS! Follow me," and he fled into the wood.
Instead of attempting to dodge him, as the burgomaster made sure he would, Gerard flew right at him, with a savage, exulting cry, and struck at him with all his heart, and soul and strength. The oak staff came down on Ghysbrecht's face with a frightful crash, and laid him under his mule's tail beating the devil's tattoo with his heels, his face streaming, and his collar spattered with blood.
In a moment Martin was on Ghysbrecht's mule, and Gerard raised the fainting girl in his arms and placed her on the saddle, and relieved Martin of his bow. "Help! treason! murder! murder!" shrieked Ghysbrecht, suddenly rising on his hams. "Silence, cur," roared Gerard, and trode him down again by the throat as men crush an adder. "Now, have you got her firm? Then fly! for our lives! for our lives!"
This denial confirmed Ghysbrecht's suspicion that the caster-out of demons was playing a deep game. "Ye lie!" he shouted. "Did I not find you at her elbow on the road to Rotterdam?" "Ah!" "Ah! And you were seen at Sevenbergen but t'other day." "Was I? "Ah and at Peter's house." "At Sevenbergen?" "Ay, at Sevenbergen." Now, this was what in modern days is called a draw.
"A curtal axe?" said Sybrandt; "no, nor even like a stroke with a cudgel." And he shot a sly envenomed glance at the burgomaster's broken nose. Ghysbrecht's face darkened with ire when this adder's tongue struck his wound. But it told, as intended: the old man bristled with hate.
Ghysbrecht's one fear was that if Gerard married Margaret the youth would sooner or later get to hear about certain documents in the burgomaster's possession, documents which established Brandt's right to lands held by the burgomaster, and which old Peter had long forgotten.
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