“What did you come to do?”
“You will make nothing out of me while a man stands over me with a drawn sword. I am only a poor man—one of the poorest in his majesty’s colony—but the threats of no Dutchman under heaven can scare me.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Send away this fellow with the sword, and let me talk in my own way. We shall get along quite as well. And don’t try to bully. I ain’t used to it. There are those who will see me righted if I am ill-treated—that you must know.”
“Do you threaten?”
“Will you send this fellow away?”
“Retire, Hans, and stand at the door. Enter when I call.”
The orderly obeyed.
“Now speak,” said Van Curter.
“You see, squire, I had been to Boston, and I calculated it was about time you were out of nicknacks, so I came out.”