“My word.”
“Bah! The word of Boston Bainbridge!”
“Boston Bainbridge is dead. I stand here in his place, a man of honor and of family, and dare you to the fight.”
“It will not do,” replied the other. “I have the advantage now, and relinquish it I will not. Go your ways, Lieutenant Boston Bainbridge Holmes, spy and cheat that you are, and let us go ours. It will be better.”
The friends drew off and consulted for some time. There seemed no feasible way of getting into the house, with the fearful menace of Van Zandt before their eyes. It was fully concluded to appear to draw off from the house, and by underhand means to gain an entrance. This was communicated to the defenders of the house, and every one appeared to leave the spot. Leaving the window to the care of one of his men, the Dutch captain turned aside into the little room in which the girls were confined. They sat upon the bed, with their arms entwined about each other, weeping, for every word of the conversation without had come to their ears.
“Go into the next room, Katrine,” said Joseph, “and do me the favor to keep your ear from the crack. I wish to talk with Theresa.”
“I shall stay here,” replied Katrine.
“Fool!” was the uncomplimentary rejoinder. “Must I send for Carl Anselm to drag you out by force?”
“No, no!” pleaded the girl. “Any one but Carl.”