“These cases must be got out late to-night and not delivered at our warehouse, but where I shall personally show you.”
“To-night, after dark?”
“Yes, late at night. The moon goes down at ten. Eleven will do for the hour. Tell your men it is two guilders apiece for each of them, and for yourself, Captain, the usual tariff.”
“What is the usual tariff for smuggling in the port of Antwerp?” asks Guy.
“Hush! we don’t call it that, we simply call it avoiding the tenth penny,” mutters the merchant. “You’ll [[147]]receive one hundred guilders for your share of the business.”
“Then give me your hand on the hundred guilders, my hearty,” replies Chester, knowing that to refuse to smuggle would simply be to acknowledge himself not up to mark as merchant captain.
“Very well, we can consider the matter arranged,” whispers Olins, gripping Guy’s outstretched fingers, and goes on shore.
Alone by himself, Chester laughs: “I think I’ll see what I’m smuggling,” and being a man of action, quickly has some of the false floor of his cabin up, and getting down among the cases opens one.
After examining its contents and refastening its cover very securely, the Englishman comes up again whistling softly, but with a great respect for Mr. Jan Olins in his heart.
Then he takes his way up to Oliver’s studio, and getting in unnoticed, for the painter has left him his keys, draws the curtain away from Antony’s altar piece and gazes upon the fair face that he longs to see. But even as he looks upon the beautiful eyes of Madonna Hermoine, the sound of wings above reminds him of his errand.