“No,” replied Short.

  “Well, we shall see,” replied Coble. “I shall turn in now. You’ve heard all about Smallbones, heh! Dick?”

  Short nodded his head.

  “Well, we shall see: but I’ll back the boy ‘gainst master and dog too, in the long run. Damn his Dutch carcase — he seems to make but small count of English subjects, heh!”

  Short leant over the gunwale and whistled.

  Coble, finding it impossible to extract one monosyllable more from him, walked forward, and went down below.

  A little before twelve o’clock a boat came alongside, and Ramsay stepped out of it into the cutter. Vanslyperken had been walking the deck to receive him, and immediately showed him down into the cabin, where he left him to go on deck and get the cutter under way. There was a small stove in the cabin, for the weather was still cold: they were advanced into the month of March. Ramsay threw off his coat, laid two pair of loaded pistols on the table, locked the door of the cabin, and then proceeded to warm himself, while Vanslyperken was employed on deck.

  In an hour the cutter was outside and clear of all danger, and Vanslyperken had to knock to gain admittance into his own cabin. Ramsay opened the door, and Vanslyperken, who thought he must say something, observed gloomily —

  “We are all clear, sir.”

  “Very good,” replied Ramsay; “and now, sir, I believe that you have despatches on board?”

  “Yes,” replied Vanslyperken.

  “You will oblige me by letting me look at them.”

  “My despatches!” said Vanslyperken, with surprise.

  “Yes, sir, your despatches; immediately, if you please — no trifling.”

  “You forget, sir,” replied Vanslyperken angrily, “that I am not any longer in your power, but on board of my own vessel.”

  “You appear not to know, sir, that you are in my power even on board of your own vessel,” replied Ramsay, starting up, and laying his hand over the pistols, which he drew towards him, and replaced in his belt. “If you trust to your ship’s company you are mistaken, as you will soon discover. I demand the despatches.”

  “But, sir, you will ruin me and ruin yourself,” replied Vanslyperken, alarmed.

  “Fear not,” replied Ramsay; “for my own sake, and that of the good cause, I shall not hurt you. No one will know that the despatches have been ever examined and—”

  “And what?” replied Vanslyperken, gloomily.

  “For the passage, and this service, you will receive one hundred guineas.”

  Vanslyperken no longer hesitated: he opened the drawer in which he had deposited the letters, and produced them.

  “Now lock the door,” said Ramsay, taking his seat.

  He then examined the seals, pulled some out of his pocket, and compared them; sorted the letters according to the seals, and laid one corresponding at the heading of each file, for there were three different Government seals upon the despatches. He then took a long Dutch earthen pipe which was hanging above, broke off the bowl, and put one end of the stem into the fire. When it was of a red heat he took it out, and applying his lips to the cool end, and the hot one close to the sealing-wax, he blew through it, and the heated blast soon dissolved the wax, and the despatches were opened one after another without the slightest difficulty or injury to the paper. He then commenced reading, taking memorandums on his tablets as he proceeded.

  When he had finished, he again heated the pipe, melted the wax, which had become cold and hard again, and resealed all the letters with his counterfeit seals.

  During this occupation, which lasted upwards of an hour, Vanslyperken looked on with surprise, leaning against the bulkhead of the cabin.

  “There, sir, are your despatches,” said Ramsay, rising from his chair: “you may now put them away; and, as you may observe, you are not compromised.”

  “No, indeed,” replied Vanslyperken, who was struck with the ingenuity of the method; “but you have given me an idea.”

  “I will tell you what that is,” replied Ramsay. “You are thinking, if I left you these false seals, you could give me the contents of the despatches, provided you were well paid. Is it not so?”

  “It was,” replied Vanslyperken, who had immediately been struck with such a new source of wealth; for he eared little what he did — all he cared for was discovery.

  “Had you not proposed it yourself, I intended that you should have done it, sir,” replied Ramsay; “and that you should also be paid for it. I will arrange all that before I leave the vessel. But now I shall retire to my bed. Have you one ready.”

  “I have none but what you see,” replied Vanslyperken. “It is my own, but at your service.”

  “I shall accept it,” replied Ramsay, putting his pistols under his pillow, after having thrown himself on the outside of the bedclothes, pulling his roquelaure over him. “And now you will oblige me by turning that cur out of the cabin, for his smell is anything but pleasant.”

  Vanslyperken had no idea of his passenger so coolly taking possession of his bed, but to turn out Snarleyyow as well as himself appeared an unwarrantable liberty. But he felt that he had but to submit, for Ramsay was despotic, and he was afraid of him.

  After much resistance, Snarleyyow was kicked out by his master, who then went on deck not in the very best of humours at finding he had so completely sold himself to those who might betray and hang him the very next day. “At all events,” thought Vanslyperken, “I’m well paid for it.”

  It was now daylight, and the cutter was running with a favourable breeze; the hands were turned up, and Corporal Van Spitter came on deck. Vanslyperken, who had been running over in his mind all the events which had latterly taken place, he considered that, as he had lost the Portsmouth widow, he might as well pursue his suit with the widow Vandersloosh, especially as she had sent such a conciliating message by the corporal; and perceiving the corporal on deck, he beckoned to him to approach. Vanslyperken then observed, that he was angry the other day, and that the corporal need not give that message to the Frau Vandersloosh, as he intended to call upon her himself upon his arrival. Van Spitter, who did not know anything about the Portsmouth widow, and could not imagine why the angry message had been given, of course assented, although he was fully determined, that the widow should be informed of the insult. The question was now, how to be able to go on shore himself; and to compass that without suspicion he remarked that the maid. Babette was a very fine maid and he should like to see her again.

  This little piece of confidence was not thrown away. Vanslyperken was too anxious to secure the corporal, and he replied, that the corporal should go ashore and see her, if he pleased; upon which Corporal Van Spitter made his best military salute, turned round on his heel, and walked away laughing in his sleeve at having so easily gulled his superior.

  On the third morning the cutter had arrived at her destined port. During the passage Ramsay had taken possession of the cabin, ordering everything as he pleased, much to the surprise of the crew. Mr Vanslyperken spoke of him as a king’s messenger; but still Smallbones, who took care to hear what was going on, reported the abject submission shown to Ramsay by the lieutenant, and this was the occasion of great marvel; moreover, they doubted his being a king’s messenger, for, as Smallbones very shrewdly observed, “Why, if he was a king’s messenger, did he not come with the despatches?” However, they could only surmise, and no more. But the dog being turned out of the cabin in compliance with Ramsay’s wish was the most important point of all. They could have got over all the rest, but that was quite incomprehensible; and they all agreed with Coble, when he observed, hitching up his trousers “Depend upon it, there’s a screw loose somewhere.”

  As soon as the cutter was at anchor, Ramsay ordered his portmanteau into the boat, and Vanslyperken having accompanied him on shore, they separated, Ramsay informing Vanslyperken that he would wish to see him the next day, and giving him his address.

  Vanslyperken delivered his despatches, and then hastened to the widow Vandersloosh, who received him with a well assumed appearance of mingled pleasure and reserve.

  Vanslyperken led her to the sofa, poured forth a multitudinous compound composed of regret, devotion, and apologies, which at last appeared to have melted the heart of the widow, who once more gave him her hand to salute.

  Vanslyperken was all rapture at so unexpected a reconciliation: the name of the cur was not mentioned; and Vanslyperken thought to himself, “This will do — let me only once get you, my Frau, and I’ll teach you to wish my dog dead at your porch.”

  On the other hand the widow thought, “And so this atomy really believes that I would look upon him! Well, well, Mr Vanslyperken, we shall see how it ends. Your cur under my bed, indeed, so sure do you never — . Yes, yes, Mr Vanslyperken.”

  There is a great deal of humbug in this world, that is certain.

  Chapter Twenty Eight.

  In which we have at last introduced a Decent Sort of Heroine, who, however, only plays a Second in our History, Snarleyyow being the First Fiddle.

  But we must leave Mr Vanslyperken, and the widow, and the Yungfrau, and all connected with her, for the present, and follow the steps of Ramsay, in doing which we shall have to introduce new personages in our little drama.

  As soon as Ramsay had taken leave of Vanslyperken, being a stranger at Amsterdam, he inquired his way to the Golden street, in which resided Mynheer Van Krause, syndic of the town, and to whom he had obtained his principal letters of introduction. The syndic’s house was too well known not to be immediately pointed out to him, and in ten minutes he found himself, with the sailors at his heels who had been ordered to carry up his baggage, at a handsomely-carved door painted in bright green, and with knockers of massive brass which glittered in the sun.

  Ramsay, as he waited a few seconds, looked up at the house, which was large, and with a noble front to the wide street in face of it, not, as usual with most of the others, divided in the centre by a canal running the whole length of it. The door was opened, and led into a large paved yard, the sides of which were lined with evergreens in large tubs, painted of the same bright-green colour; adjoining to the yard was a small garden enclosed with high walls, which was laid out with great precision, and in small beds full of tulips, ranunculuses, and other bulbs now just appearing above the ground. The sailors waited outside while the old grey-headed servitor who had opened the gate ushered Ramsay through the court to a second door which led into the house. The hall into which he entered was paved with marble, and the staircase bold and handsome which led to the first floor, but on each side of the hall there were wooden partitions and half-glass doors, through which Ramsay could see that the rest of the basement was appropriated to warehouses, and that in the warehouse at the back of the building there were people busily employed hoisting out merchandise from the vessels in the canal, the water of which adjoined the very walls. Ramsay followed the man upstairs, who showed him into a very splendidly-furnished apartment, and then went to summon his master, who, he said, was below in the warehouse. Ramsay had but a minute or two to examine the various objects which decorated the room, particularly some very fine pictures, when Mynheer Van Krause made his appearance, with some open tablets in his hand and his pen across his mouth. He was a very short man, with a respectable paunch, a very small head, quite bald, a keen blue eye, reddish but straight nose, and a very florid complexion. There was nothing vulgar about his appearance, although his figure was against him. His countenance was one of extreme frankness, mixed with considerable intelligence, and his whole manner gave you the idea of precision and calculation.

  “You would — tyfel — I forgot my pen,” said the syndic, catching it as it fell out of his mouth. “You would speak with me, mynheer? To whom have I the pleasure of addressing myself?”

  “These letters, sir,” replied Ramsay, “will inform you.”

  Mynheer Van Krause laid his tablets on the table, putting his pen across to mark the leaf where he had them open, and, taking the letters, begged Ramsay to be seated. He then took a chair, pulled a pair of hand-glasses out of his pocket, laid them on his knees, broke the seals, and falling back so as to recline, commenced reading. As soon as he had finished the first letter, he put his glasses down from his eyes, and made a bow to Ramsay, folded the open letter the length of the sheet, took out his pencil, and on the outside wrote the date of the letter, the day of the month, name, and the name of the writer. Having done this, he laid the first letter down on the table, took up the second, raised up his glasses, and performed the same duty towards it, and thus he continued until he had read the whole six: always, as he concluded each letter, making the same low bow to Ramsay which he had after the perusal of the first. Ramsay, who was not a little tired of all this precision, at last fixed his eyes upon a Wouvermann which hung near him, and only took them off when he guessed the time of bowing to be at hand.

  The last having been duly marked and numbered, Mynheer Van Krause turned to Ramsay, and said, “I am most happy, mynheer, to find under my roof a young gentleman so much recommended by many valuable friends; moreover, as these letters give me to understand, so warm a friend to our joint sovereign, and so inimical to the Jacobite party. I am informed by these letters that you intend to remain at Amsterdam. If so, I trust that you will take up your quarters in this house.”

  To this proposal Ramsay, who fully expected it, gave a willing consent, saying, at the same time, that he had proposed going to an hotel; but Mynheer Van Krause insisted on sending for Ramsay’s luggage. He had not far to send, as it was at the door.

  “How did you come over?” inquired the host.

  “In a king’s cutter,” replied Ramsay, “which waited for me at Portsmouth.”

  This intimation produced another very low bow from Mynheer Van Krause; as it warranted the importance of his guest; but he then rose, and apologising for his presence being necessary below, as they were unloading a cargo of considerable value, he ordered his old porter to show Mr Ramsay into his rooms, and to take up his luggage, informing his guest that, it being now twelve o’clock, dinner would be on the table at half-past one, during which interval he begged Ramsay to amuse himself, by examining the pictures, books, etcetera, with which the room was well furnished. Then, resuming his tablets and pen, and taking the letters with him, Mynheer Van Krause made a very low bow, and left Ramsay to himself, little imagining that he had admitted an attainted traitor under his roof.

  Ramsay could speak Dutch fluently, for he had been quartered two years at Middleburg, when he was serving in the army. As soon as the sailors had taken up his portmanteau, and he had dismissed them with a gratuity, the extent of which made the old porter open his eyes with astonishment, and gave him a favourable opinion of his master’s new guest, he entered into conversation with the old man, who, like Eve upon another occasion, was tempted, nothing loth, for the old man loved to talk; and in a house so busy as the syndic’s there were few who had time to chatter, and those who had, preferred other conversation to what, it must be confessed, was rather prosy.

  “Mein Gott, mynheer, you must not expect to have company here all day. My master has the town business and his own business to attend to: he can’t well get through it all: besides, now is a busy time, the schuyts are bringing up the cargo of a vessel from a far voyage, and Mynheer Krause always goes to the warehouse from breakfast till dinner, and then again from three or four o’clock till six. After that he will stay above, and then sees company, and hears our young lady sing.”

  “Young lady! has he a daughter, then?”

  “He has a daughter, mynheer — only one — only one child — no son, it is a pity; and so much money too, they say. I don’t know how many stivers and guilders she will have by-and-bye.”

  “Is not Madame Krause still alive?”

  “No, mynheer, she died when this maiden was born. She was a good lady, cured me once of the yellow jaundice.”

  Ramsay, like all young men, wondered what sort of a person this lady might be; but he was too discreet to put the question. He was, however, pleased to hear that there was a young female in the house, as it would make the time pass away more agreeably; not that he expected much. Judging from the father, he made up his mind, as he took his clothes out of his valise, that she was very short, very prim, and had a hooked nose.

  The old man now left the room to allow Ramsay to dress, and telling him that if he wanted anything, he had only to call for Koops, which was his name; but going out, he returned to say, that Ramsay must call rather loud, as he was a little hard of hearing.

  “Well,” thought Ramsay, as he was busy with his toilet, “here I am safe lodged at last, and everything appears as if it would prosper. There is something in my position which my mind revolts at, but stratagem is necessary in war. I am in the enemy’s camp to save my own life, and to serve the just cause. It is no more than what they attempt to do with us. It is my duty to my lawful sovereign, but still — I do not like it. Then the more merit in performing a duty so foreign to my inclinations.”

  Such were the thoughts of Ramsay, who, like other manly and daring dispositions, was dissatisfied with playing the part of a deceiver, although he had been selected for the service, and his selection had been approved of at the court of St. Germains.

  Open warfare would have suited him better; but he would not repine at what he considered he was bound in fealty to perform, if required, although he instinctively shrank from it. His toilet was complete, and Ramsay descended into the reception-room: he had been longer than usual, but probably that was because he wished to commune with himself; or it might be, because he had been informed that there was a young lady in the house.

  The room was empty when Ramsay entered it, and he took the advice of his host, and amused himself by examining the pictures, and other articles of vertù with which the room was filled.

  At last, having looked at everything, Ramsay examined a splendid clock on the mantelpiece, before a line glass, which mounted to the very top of the lofty room, when, accidentally casting his eyes to the looking-glass, he perceived in it that the door of the room, to which his back was turned, was open, and that a female was standing there, apparently surprised to find a stranger, and not exactly knowing whether to advance or retreat. Ramsay remained in the same position, as if he did not perceive her, that he might look at her without her being aware of it. It was, as he presumed, the syndic’s daughter; but how different from the person he had conjured up in his mind’s eye, when at his toilet! Apparently about seventeen or eighteen years of age, she was rather above the height of woman, delicately formed, although not by any means thin in her person: her figure possessing all that feminine luxuriance, which can only be obtained when the bones are small but well covered. Her face was oval, and brilliantly fair. Her hair of a dark chestnut, and her eyes of a deep blue. Her dress was simple in the extreme. She wore nothing but the white woollen petticoats of the time, so short, as to show above her ankles, and a sort of little jacket of fine green cloth, with lappets, which descended from the waist, and opened in front. Altogether, Ramsay thought that he had never in his life seen a young female so peculiarly attractive at first sight: there was a freshness in her air and appearance so uncommon, so unlike the general crowd. As she stood in a state of uncertainty, her mouth opened, and displayed small and beautifully white teeth.