"This," said the widow, "you must deliver yourself--it is of consequence. I would deliver it, but if I do, I shall not be able to look after my little arrangements for dinner, for you dine with me of course. Besides, you must be acquainted with this person one time or another, as it will be for OUR advantage."
"OUR advantage!" how delightful to Mr Vanslyperken was that word! He jumped up immediately, and took his hat to execute the commission, the injunction of the widow to be soon back hastening his departure. Vanslyperken soon arrived at the door, knocked, and was admitted.
"Vat vash you vant, sare?" said a venerable looking old Jew, who opened the door to him.
"Is your name Lazarus?" inquired the lieutenant.
"Dat vash my name."
"I have a letter for you."
"A letter for me!--and from vare?"
"Amsterdam."
"Shee! silence," said the Jew, leading the way into a small room, and shutting the door.
Vanslyperken delivered the letter, which the Jew did not open, but laid on the table. "It vas from my worthy friend in Billen Shaaten. He ist veil?"