“Hanske.”
“To the death with the sorcerer!” cried the people.
The bailiff said:
“We must compare the two writings.”
This being done, they were adjudged to be similar. The bailiff then said to the lords and gentlemen there present:
“Do ye recognize this man for Messire Joos Damman, son of the alderman of La Keure of Ghent?”
“Aye,” said they.
“Did ye know,” said he, “Messire Hilbert, son of Willem Ryvish, Esquire?”
One of the gentlemen, who was called Van der Zickelen, spoke and said:
“I am from Ghent; my house is in St. Michael’s Place; I know Willem Ryvish, Esquire, sheriff of La Keure of Ghent. He lost, fifteen years past, a son of twenty-three years of age, debauched, a gamester, an idler; but everyone forgave it him because of his youth. Since that time no man has had news of him. I ask to see the sword, the poignard, and the satchel of the dead man.”