The Laughing Cavalier by Baroness Orczy

Author:Baroness Orczy [Orczy, Baroness]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Historical fiction, Adventure stories, Netherlands -- History -- 17th century -- Fiction
Publisher: Standard Ebooks
Published: 2020-12-21T03:54:45+00:00

XXV

An Arrant Knave

In the street below, not far from the house which he had just quitted, Stoutenburg came on Nicolaes and Jan ensconced in the dark against a wall. Beresteyn quickly explained to his friend the reason of his presence here.

“I came with Jan,” he said, “because I wished to speak with you without delay.”

“Come as far as the cathedral then,” said Stoutenburg curtly. “I feel that in this vervloekte street the walls and windows are full of ears and prying eyes. Jan,” he added, turning to the other man, “you must remain here and on no account lose sight of that rascal when he leaves this house. Follow him in and out of Haarlem, and if you do not see me again tonight, join me at Ryswyk as soon as you can, and come there prepared with full knowledge of his plans.”

Leaving Jan in observation the two men made their way now in the direction of the Groote Markt. It was still very cold, even though there was a slight suspicion in the air of a coming change in the weather: a scent as of the south wind blowing from over the estuaries, while the snow beneath the feet had lost something of its crispness and purity. The thaw had not yet set in, but it was coquetting with the frost, challenging it to a passage of arms, wherein either combatant might completely succumb.

As Stoutenburg had surmised the porch of the cathedral was lonely and deserted, even the beggars had all gone home for the night. A tiny lamp fixed into the panelling of the wall flickered dimly in the draught. Stoutenburg sat down on the wooden bench⁠—dark and polished with age, which ran alongside one of the walls, and with a brusque and febrile gesture drew his friend down beside him.

“Well?” he asked in that nervous, jerky way of his, “What is it?”

“Something that wilt horrify you, just as it did me,” replied Beresteyn, who spoke breathlessly as if under stress of grave excitement. “When I parted from you awhile ago, I did what you asked me to do. I posted Jan outside the door of the tapperij after I had pointed out our rogue to him through the glass door. Imagine my astonishment when I saw that at that moment our rascal was in close conversation with my father.”

“With your father?”

“With my father,” reiterated Beresteyn. “That fool, Hals, was with him, and there were another half dozen busybodies sitting round the table. Our man was evidently the centre of interest; I could not then hear what was said, but at one moment I saw that my father shook him cordially by the hand.”

“Vervloekte Keerl!” exclaimed Stoutenburg.

“I didn’t know at first what to do. I didn’t want to go into the tapperij and to show myself just then, but at all costs I wished to know what my father and that arrant rascal had to say to one another. So, bidding Jan on no account to lose

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