"Bah! the magistracy of Haarlem moves with ponderous slowness. While that oaf, Van der Meer, makes preparations for sending out the town guard, our rogue will slip through our fingers, and mayhap be back in Haarlem with Gilda ere we find him again."
"Let me have Jan and one or two of Heemskerk's mercenaries," urged Beresteyn, "we could seize him and his papers to-night as soon as he leaves the city gates."
"Then, out of revenge," said Stoutenburg, "he will refuse to tell us what he hath done with Gilda."
"Bah!" retorted Beresteyn cynically, "here in Haarlem we can always apply torture."
"Then, if he speaks, Gilda can be back here in time to denounce us all. No, no, my friend," continued Stoutenburg firmly, "let us own at once that by trusting that scoundrel we have run our heads into a noose out of which only our wits can extricate us. We must meet cunning with cunning, treachery if need be with treachery. Gilda—of course—must not remain at the mercy of brigands, but she must not be given her freedom to do us the harm which she hath already threatened. Remember this, Nicolaes," he added, placing his hand upon his friend's shoulder and forcing him to look straight into his own feverishly glowing eyes, "remember that, when all these troubles are over, Gilda will become my wife. The devotion of my entire life shall then compensate her for the slight wrong which fate compels us to do her at this moment. Will you remember that, my friend?"
"I do remember it," replied the other, "but...."
"And will you try and trust me as you would yourself?"
"I do trust you, Willem, as I would trust myself; only tell me what you want to do."
"I want to bring that knave to the gallows without compromising you and the success of our cause," said Stoutenburg firmly.
"But how can you do it?"