This scene with Miriam put me in a state of bad humor, for all there was in it to make me glad. It is seldom that sweet recollections come unmixed with sour, and then the sour bite into our thoughts and the sweet are clean forgotten. I ought to have been happy over the dear picture of my sister and her friend praying together, each in her own faith, as Miriam said. But I could think only of my own loss in Ruth’s death, and of what wicked ways I had fallen into without her to keep me free of pitfalls. It was useless to argue with myself that I had been driven against my will; that, through my late career, I had chosen what seemed to be the right path, or, at least, the lesser of two evils. Such meditations gave me no comfort.

Here I actually was in the household of the patroon, a spy not even owning my name. My present safety was due mainly to Miriam’s intercession on my behalf. She had denied that I was a spy and had vouched for my honesty. This added new weight to my burden of remorse. I tossed wakefully on my bed at night, wondering what would happen if she knew the truth. How she would hate me and despise me when she found out who I was. I was not only deceiving the patroon, acting a lie day by day; I was also deceiving her, she who had been so kind to my sister, and whose coveted belief in me had become more than I could contemplate.

So, when I rose in the morning after Meg’s death, I was full of a new idea. Come what would of it, I should seek Lady Marmaduke that very day and demand my release. I had gone to the manor-house at her instigation and felt myself bound to her service; but I would soon end that. Just how to accomplish the meeting had not occurred to me as yet, but I could not fail to make a chance before the day was over.

For an hour in the morning I was busy in my mind going over the situation and trying to read the signs of the times. I knew well enough that Van Volkenberg’s expulsion from the council was not the end of his account with the governor. It was but one successful blow from his enemy and was sure to be returned. Theirs was a bitter struggle that I knew would end only with the utter annihilation of one or the other of them.

Could Van Volkenberg possibly succeed? He was nearer to success than I had any idea of at the time. There were many points in his favor. Captain Kidd was about to arrive—in fact, he had arrived during the night, but we did not know it then. His mission was now familiar to everyone, and the fact that he would recruit his crew in New York was also public. There were so many merchants in the city whose trade would be hurt by the suppression of the buccaneers, that ill-feeling against the Earl was running high. The patroon made the most of this, coaxing here, explaining there, till all the discontented faction began to look to him more than ever as their leader against the Earl.

Had the patroon been ready to strike his blow a few days earlier, I ween he had overturned the city.

Bellamont, on the other hand, was likely to suffer from too much security, or fancied security. He was an easy-going man most of the time; one who prided himself on his knowledge of the character of men—a knowledge which he really did not possess at all. Through me he had detected the plotting of the patroon. Governor Bellamont thought that the retirement of his enemy from the council in disgrace removed him altogether from the sphere of troublesome elements that beset the King’s processes in the province. There was one person, however, at his very right hand who realized the danger. Hardly a day passed that Lady Marmaduke did not warn the Earl, did not beseech him to use more care and watchfulness.

“No, no,” Bellamont would answer in his easy-going way. “I have killed him now. I’ll get the Assembly to reverse his grant and we shall hear no more of him.”

But Lady Marmaduke knew better. If the Earl would not keep an eye on the enemy she would. She had plotted without the Earl before, and was willing to do so again. She had already communicated once or twice with me. Through Annetje and Pierre, all the doings at the manor-house were reported to her promptly. She was ever watchful and employed half a dozen men to seek out bits of gossip and trace home the vague rumors that were constantly gaining ground—rumors of some mysterious danger that was about to overwhelm the city.

I, too, was on the alert. I had been deeply fired at the patroon’s part, whatever it was, in the death of my sister. Lady Marmaduke had put her own burning spirit into my blood that time she pleaded with me in her own house, that time she thrust her finger into the candle and I smelled the burning flesh. But Miriam had come between us and had dashed all our plans. In her presence I could see nothing but my own shameless duplicity and the effect it would have on her when she discovered my dishonesty.

In the manor-house itself all was at sixes and sevens. Though the patroon seemed much relieved over the death of Meg, I could plainly see that something was on his mind. On the day we had ridden together about his estate he had pointed to the ocean and said that the fortunes of the Red Band lay in that direction. One of the recent rumors concerned the coming of a French fleet. Could he be involved in that? I knew that there had been mysterious comings and goings about the manor-house that I had no share in. Were there other seamen to be met with at Wolfert Webber’s tavern? Now that I look back upon these events, I wonder that I did not see the danger that threatened us. But one who is in the midst of things is ever blind.

Louis Van Ramm really held the key to everything, for he shared his master’s most important secrets. It was not till later, however, that I fully understood his character, or why he held back so long. He hated his master and had hated him for years; but Louis had not the power of action. Courage was not wanting in his makeup, but he lacked that power of self-reliance that would enable him to take the initiative in overthrowing the patroon. He knew that I was set on the ruin of Van Volkenberg, and hoped to put the proper cards in my hand, thinking that I would play them freely without let or hindrance.

Such was the confused state of affairs at the time I made my resolution to go to Lady Marmaduke and assert my independence of her service. I should have set off alone for the city that morning had not the patroon sent for me to accompany him to Yorke about ten o’clock in the morning.

I said that Captain Kidd had arrived in the night, though we did not know the fact when we set out. The wind was southerly that morning, and we had not gone far, when it brought us the sound of a gun.

“Ha,” said the patroon. “Doubtless that is to welcome the Adventure.”

And sure enough it was. Kidd’s ship had been in the bay all night and, as we soon found, was coming up to the town. It had been some hour anchored when the patroon and I rode up to the Slip to look at it.

“A tidy ship,” said the patroon after examining it as thoroughly as he could from the shore. “One that could sail far with a safe crew. New York must furnish him good recruits, St. Vincent.” He laughed in a low, satisfied way, as if at some joke of his own. “Ay, we must serve him with a good crew.”

I had thought that he had ridden to the city on business, but such seemed not to be the case. We set out on our return immediately. To be sure, we did not go directly home, but rode about in a wandering way from street to street, like strangers viewing the town for the first time. All the while my master glanced from side to side, eyeing every person who passed as if he were in search of someone. Suddenly I heard an exclamation. Van Volkenberg drew in his horse just as a stranger stepped out from the stream of passengers at the side of the street. This person was dressed in ordinary clothes, but I knew from his walk that he was a seaman.

“Well, William,” said the patroon, as soon as they had greeted each other, which they did warmly, as if they were old friends long parted. “How does New York look to you now?”

“Much as usual. But I see that the privy-council is changed a bit.”

“Ay, changed for the worst.” They both laughed good humoredly. “What else do you notice?”

“Your French County seems to be on the warpath again.”

“Yes, there are rumors to that effect; but I put no faith in them. Still, everyone believes them here. It would be a good thing for the governor to garrison Fort Orange, if only to allay public excitement. It would be easier to stop him at Albany than at any other place.”

At that moment one of Van Volkenberg’s clerks came up and put a paper into his master’s hand.

“I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“Yes,” answered the patroon. “This needs my attention.” Then, turning to the stranger, he continued: “I must back to the warehouse, William. Remember our appointment; midnight on the river.”

We rode off directly to the patroon’s warehouse on the Slip. Before we had gone far the patroon put the letter into my hand. It was but a line and signed by one of the confidential clerks. It read:

“Lady Marmaduke is about to appeal to the Assembly to stop the troops.”

“It is Greek to me,” I answered. “What does it mean?”

“You suggested it yourself. Bellamont has decided to fortify Albany, and is going to send off three of the city companies to-morrow or next day.”

“What has Lady Marmaduke to do with it? Why does she want the troops stopped?”

“Have you not heard the rumors? Some people here in the city believe that there is danger from a French fleet. They have not forgotten how helpless Stuyvesant was in '64. I tell you, St. Vincent, there is no danger from the sea. Frontenac is the man to fear. I would wager my estate he is coming through the wilderness, and has set these notions in the air himself to keep attention off from Albany. He is a shrewd old fox, and if the troops are stopped we shall get a message down the river soon: likely as not the county’s greeting and news that Fort Orange is taken.”

“If all this is true why should Lady Marmaduke oppose it?”

“Because she is a fool. She believes the gossip of the street. She has already tried to convince the Earl. But he has more sense. I hate him, but, I declare, he demands respect in this.”

We had reached the patroon’s door by this time, and the clerk who had signed the note came out to meet him.

“When does the Assembly adjourn?” asked the patroon aloud, after a short whispered consultation.

“They have moved to adjourn for a week at noon to-day.”

“Can Lady Marmaduke sway them to her wishes?”

“There is little doubt of it.”

“Then she must be kept away. St. Vincent, ride to Marmaduke Hall. Keep the mistress in conversation for an hour and a half. Ask her what became of Le Bourse. Tell her I shall oust her from her estate, break her title, anything you please. Stay there till noon and occupy her time. She must not stop the troops. Go; instantly!”

There was no resisting the patroon’s haste. In the next breath I was galloping at breakneck speed to my lady’s house. What a coincidence! All the forenoon I had been racking my brain to find a way to meet her and withdraw from my task of spy. Now the chance was made. It filled my mind. Before I turned the first corner the Earl, the troops, and Albany were quite forgotten. I could think only of the stormy meeting before me and how I had best carry it through.

I banged the brass knocker with a will, and was shown into the receiving room. The name I sent to the mistress was Henrie St. Vincent, of the Hanging Rock. She knew it and came in a trice.

“What news do you bring?” she cried, sweeping into the room like a blast of wind. “How do you come so openly, Le Bourse?”

“St. Vincent.”

“Tush! There is no one to hear. What is your news. What have you learned?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Then why do you come here?”

“I am tired of my work. I want to give it up.”

“Give up? You coward!”

“I knew you would say that.”

“Then you deserve it.”

“I do not.”

“Explain yourself.”

I told her briefly the confidence that the patroon had placed in me and the way the deception gnawed my conscience. I did not move her in the least. Her lips curled in scorn and she gripped her hands together till they were all mottled red and white with the pressure.

“Sit down,” she said in a tone so cold and biting that it made me shiver. “If you are going to leave my service I shall dismiss you like a man.”

She strode haughtily across the room and poured out two glasses of wine. She came back and handed one of them to me.

“My dear Michael,” she began. “I am a stormy woman. I repent of what I said to you. Here we part. Rise and lift your glass. We shall drink a toast before you go.”

I stood up. This was easier than I had expected. I had counted on more of a scene and could almost smile at the ease of my achievement.

“You do me honor, Lady Marmaduke. I hardly hoped that you would sympathize with my conscience. Propose your toast.”

“Can you guess who it is?”

“The Earl?”

“No.”

I laughed. “Our friend, the patroon?”

“The patroon of Hanging Rock? Yes, but by a different title. Drink, Michael. Long life and happiness to the seducer of your sister.”

“My God!” I cried, dashing glass and all upon the floor. “What do you mean?”

“You know well enough. I told you long ago that he visited her room that night she died. We of the aristocracy here think little of our bond-slaves. They are mere chattels to our lust. Why should they not minister to our pleasure. Why should not Ruth—”

“Stop! You are baiting me. You do not know this. Louis said that she was murdered, but not that she was—”

“You know that? You will not strike her murderer? You craven coward! And I know why you halt. You love the Catholic woman.”

“What if I do? She loved my sister.”

“Ah, she loved your sister and you love her; he killed your sister and you love him.”

“What can I do? He is her father.”

“Do you remember a masterless man who once came into this very room to smell the smell of burning flesh?”

“Don’t, don’t.”

“Why don’t? What do you care now? Your sister’s agony, the tortured flesh quivering under the iron’s heat—why, man, you should thank God for that. How else would you have gone to the house at Hanging Rock? How else would you have met your wonderful, adorable, queen of your heart, the Catholic Miriam? How Ruth loved Catholics! Get down on your knees, man. Your sister’s martyrdom has brought you a love. It brings you a home, position, with the name of coward and of traitor to my trust. Thank God, I say; thank God.”

“You are unjust, Lady Marmaduke. You do not understand me.”

“My dearest Michael, I understand you perfectly. It was in the beginning that I made the mistake. I took you for a man. I supposed flesh and blood could not forget the debt you owe the patroon. But ’twas a small debt after all. What is a sister ruined and murdered to a father-in-law who ruined her? Ha, ha, ha, Michael; do you think I misunderstand you now?”

This was hard treatment and it took my resolution as the summer dries a stream. I could stand ridicule—though that hurt me more than most things—but the worst was that the picture she drew was true. I had never admitted to myself that I felt more than mere respect for Miriam. At that moment I believe I hated her.

“I took you in,” continued my tormenter. “Now you may go. Perhaps he will murder you.” How this struck home in the light of what he had already done. “Perhaps he will give you his daughter in marriage.”

“I don’t want his daughter.”

“Hoity toity, child. Don’t break your china doll now it is in your hands. What will you have in exchange for your peerless sister?”

“I want revenge.”

“And refuse to take it! Bah, you talk like a fool.”

“I have talked like a fool. But now I swear to hound this hell-cat to his death.”

“And Miriam?”

“As we sow, so must we reap. Let us spare her if we can, but—”

“Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, my Michael. I come not to bring peace into the world, but a sword. This is the word of God, my child.”

She had slipped her arm about me and was talking in the gentler manner in which she had comforted me the time I first learned the news of my sister’s fate.

Half an hour later I left the hall, sullen, resolved and conquered. Yes; once more the strength of her spirit had proved greater than the strength of mine. I must see more and be tried again before the final break should come. And when it came, like a flash, like a thief in the night, some who were upon the housetop came not down, but were taken in their sins. And others like myself were spared to learn the glory of God through goodness and mercy in return for sin and evil.