"Good G—d, Stoutenburg, what do you mean?"
"That cursed foreign adventurer——"
"What about him?"
"Have you then never thought of him as being amenable to a bribe from Gilda."
"In Heaven's name, man, do not think of such awful eventualities!"
"But we must think of them, my good Beresteyn. Events are shaping themselves differently to what we expected. We must make preparations for our safety accordingly, and above all realise the fact that Gilda will move heaven and earth to thwart us in our plans."
"But she can do nothing," persisted Beresteyn sullenly, "without betraying me. In Haarlem it was different. She might have spoken to my father of what she knew, but she would not do so to a stranger, knowing that with one word she can send me first and all of you afterwards to the scaffold."
Stoutenburg with an exclamation of angry impatience brought his clenched fist crashing down upon the table.
"Are you a child, Beresteyn," he cried hotly, "or are you wilfully blind to your danger and to mine? I tell you that Gilda will never allow me to kill the Prince of Orange without raising a finger to save him."
"But what can I do?"