“Patroon Van Volkenberg,” I began, in order to introduce my errand, “I have come to ask a favor of you.”
“Ah,” he returned pleasantly. “Favors are what I like. Pray be seated. Louis, a chair for Monsieur St. Vincent.”
It was the dwarf, Louis Van Ramm, who had escorted me into the presence of the patroon. He now set a chair for me and, at another signal, withdrew. He seemed to obey his orders a little sullenly. I am not sure but that the signal for his withdrawal was repeated before he noticed it. This behavior surprised me, for I had heard much of the discipline of the Red Band and of the despotic rule of Van Volkenberg.
“Now, sir,” continued the patroon as soon as we were alone. “Now, sir, I am at your service.”
“It is to be admitted to yours that I have come to you to-day.”
“To mine; to my service do you mean?”
“Yes, sir.”
“For what reason?” he asked, gazing at me with his keen, penetrating eyes.
“From what I hear of the condition of the city, I am led to believe that you have plenty of work for a soldier who has honorable scars to show.”
“You mean, I suppose, that some one has told you that there is fighting to do in the Red Band.”