Another hour went by, and once more the street door was opened with a key, to be carefully shut when the visitor had entered.
Simon or Meg, thought Adrian, but as he could not be sure he took the precaution of hiding himself behind the curtain. The door of the room opened, and not Meg or Simon, but Ramiro entered. So his opportunity had come!
The Master seemed disturbed. He sat down upon a chair and wiped his brow with a silk handkerchief. Then aloud, and shaking his fist in the air, he uttered a most comprehensive curse upon everybody and everything, but especially upon the citizens of Leyden. After this once more he lapsed into silence, sitting, his one eye fixed upon vacancy, and twisting his waxed moustaches with his hand.
Now was Adrian’s chance; he had only to step out from behind the curtain and run him through before he could rise from his seat. The plan had great charms, and doubtless he might have put it into execution had not Adrian’s histrionic instincts stayed his hand. If he killed Ramiro thus, he would never know why he had been killed, and above all things Adrian desired that he should know. He wanted not only to wreak his wrongs, but to let his adversary learn why they were wreaked. Also, to do him justice, he preferred a fair fight to a secret stab delivered from behind, for gentlemen fought, but assassins stabbed.
Still, as there were no witnesses, he might have been willing to waive this point, if only he could make sure that Ramiro should learn the truth before he died. He thought of springing out and wounding him, and then, after he had explained matters, finishing him off at his leisure. But how could he be sure of his sword-thrust, which might do too much or too little? No, come what would, the matter must be concluded in the proper fashion.
Choosing his opportunity, Adrian stepped from behind the hanging and placed himself between Ramiro and the door, the bolt of which he shot adroitly that no one might interrupt their interview. At the sound Ramiro started and looked up. In an instant he grasped the situation, and though his bronzed face paled, for he knew that his danger was great, rose to it, as might have been expected from a gentleman of his long and varied experience.
“The Heer Adrian called van Goorl, as I live!” he said. “My friend and pupil, I am glad to see you; but, if I might ask, although the times are rough, why in this narrow room do you wave about a naked rapier in that dangerous fashion?”
“Villain,” answered Adrian, “you know why; you have betrayed me and mine, and I am dishonoured, and now I am going to kill you in payment.”
“I see,” said Ramiro, “the van Goorl affair again. I can never be clear of it for half an hour even. Well, before you begin, it may interest you to know that your worthy stepfather, after a couple of days’ fasting, is by now, I suppose, free, for the rabble have stormed the Gevangenhuis. Truth, however, compels me to add that he is suffering badly from the plague, which your excellent mother, with a resource that does her credit, managed to communicate to him, thinking this end less disagreeable on the whole than that which the law had appointed.”
Thus spoke Ramiro, slowly and with purpose, for all the while he was so manoeuvring that the light from the lattice fell full upon his antagonist, leaving himself in the shadow, a position which experience taught him would prove of advantage in emergency.