while he felt sure that the face of which he had caught a glimpse was no other than that of the jealous rival.
He listened anxiously; he could hear the cracking of the boughs, and then the sound of footsteps approaching. Nearer and nearer drew the footsteps; presently he heard an exclamation of surprise.
“Why, this is the hat of one of them,” said a voice.
“Yes; it is that of the fat, ridiculous little man who pretended to be a Baron,” answered a female voice.
Was it possible? Yes, the Baron felt sure that the voice was that of the fair Vrouw Margaret on whom he had placed his affections.
“Little doubt whose hat it is,” observed the first speaker. “Very likely his pockets are even now full of your father’s and Mynheer Baskerville’s plate. What shall we do with him if we catch him?”
“I must leave him to your tender mercies,” said Vrouw Margaret. “As he deceived us so grossly I cannot plead for him. Punish him as you think fit, and then let him go, if he will promise not to come near our house again.”
“We have not caught him yet, though,” observed Mynheer Bunckum. “But here come my men, and we’ll make a thorough search in the neighbourhood.”
The Baron at this trembled more and more; while Mynheer Bunckum and Vrouw Margaret were speaking he heard several other persons approaching, who had, he judged by the remarks they let fall, been searching in vain for the Count. No one seemed to remark the hole in the tree; indeed, probably judging by the Baron’s figure, they did not suppose that he could have crawled into it.
“The chances are the two went off together,” remarked one of the keepers, “and by this time they are well out of the park.”