“If I were a Spanish general with a proper army,” began Adrian pompously, “I would take Leyden easily enough. Only this afternoon I studied its weak spots, and made a plan of attack which could scarcely fail, seeing that the place would only be defended by a mob of untrained, half-armed burghers.”
Again that curious look returned into Elsa’s eyes.
“If you were a Spanish general,” she said slowly. “How can you jest about such a thing as the sacking of a town by Spaniards? Do you know what it means? That is how they talk; I have heard them,” and she shuddered, then went on: “You are not a Spaniard, are you, sir, that you can speak like that?” And without waiting for an answer Elsa urged her mule forward, leaving him a little behind.
Presently as they passed through the Witte Poort, he was at her side again and chatting to her, but although she replied courteously enough, he felt that an invisible barrier had arisen between them. Yes, she had read his secret heart; it was as though she had been a party to his thoughts when he stood by the bridge this afternoon designing plans for the taking of Leyden, and half wishing that he might share in its capture. She mistrusted him, and was half afraid of him, and Adrian knew that it was so.
Ten minutes’ ride through the quiet town, for in those days of terror and suspicion unless business took them abroad people did not frequent the streets much after sundown, brought the party to the van Goorl’s house in the Bree Straat. Here Adrian dismounted and tried to open the door, only to find that it was locked and barred. This seemed to exasperate a temper already somewhat excited by the various events and experiences of the day, and more especially by the change in Elsa’s manner; at any rate he used the knocker with unnecessary energy. After a while, with much turning of keys and drawing of bolts, the door was opened, revealing Dirk, his stepfather, standing in the passage, candle in hand, while behind, as though to be ready for any emergency, loomed the great stooping shape of Red Martin.
“Is that you, Adrian?” asked Dirk in a voice at once testy and relieved. “Then why did you not come to the side entrance instead of forcing us to unbar here?”
“Because I bring you a guest,” replied Adrian pointing to Elsa and her companions. “It did not occur to me that you would wish guests to be smuggled in by a back door as though—as though they were ministers of our New Religion.”
The bow had been drawn at a venture but the shaft went home, for Dirk started and whispered: “Be silent, fool.” Then he added aloud, “Guest! What guest?”
“It is I, cousin Dirk, I, Elsa, Hendrik Brant’s daughter,” she said, sliding from her mule.
“Elsa Brant!” ejaculated Dirk. “Why, how came you here?”