“Come into my kitchen,” said the baes.
There, shutting the door, and looking fixedly at him:
“You are no brandy merchant; what do these winkings of your eyes mean? Who are you?”
Ulenspiegel replied:
“I am the son of Claes that was burned at Damme; the ashes of the dead man beat upon my breast; I would fain kill Spelle, the murderer.”
“It is Boelkin who sends you?” asked the host.
“Boelkin sends me,” replied Ulenspiegel. “I will kill Spelle; you shall help me in it.”
“I will,” said the baes. “What must I do?”
Ulenspiegel replied:
“Go to the curé, the good pastor, an enemy to Spelle. Assemble your friends together and be with them to-morrow, after the curfew, on the Everghem road, above Spelle’s house, between the Falcon and the house aforesaid. All post yourselves in the shadows and have no white on your clothes. At the stroke of ten you will see Spelle coming out from the tavern and a wagon coming from the other side.