“This,” said the widow, “you must deliver yourself—­it is of consequence.  I would deliver it, but if I do, I shall not be able to look after my little arrangements for dinner, for you dine with me of course.  Besides, you must be acquainted with this person one time or another, as it will be for OUR advantage.”

“OUR advantage!” how delightful to Mr Vanslyperken was that word!  He jumped up immediately, and took his hat to execute the commission, the injunction of the widow to be soon back hastening his departure.  Vanslyperken soon arrived at the door, knocked, and was admitted.

“Vat vash you vant, sare?” said a venerable looking old Jew, who opened the door to him.

“Is your name Lazarus?” inquired the lieutenant.

“Dat vash my name.”

“I have a letter for you.”

“A letter for me!—­and from vare?”

“Amsterdam.”

“Shee! silence,” said the Jew, leading the way into a small room, and shutting the door.

Vanslyperken delivered the letter, which the Jew did not open, but laid on the table.  “It vas from my worthy friend in Billen Shaaten.  He ist veil?”

“Quite well,” replied Vanslyperken.

“Ven do you sail again, mynheer?”

“To-morrow morning.”

“Dat is good.  I have the letters all ready; dey come down yesterday—­vil you vait and take them now?”

“Yes,” replied Vanslyperken, who anticipated another rouleau of gold on his arrival at Amsterdam.

“An den I will give you your monish at de same time.”

More money, thought Vanslyperken, who replied then, “With all my heart,” and took a chair.

The Jew left the room, and soon returned with a small yellow bag, which he put into Vanslyperken’s hand, and a large packet carefully sealed.  “Dis vas of de hutmost importance,” said the old man, giving him the packet.  “You will find you monish all right, and now vas please just put your name here, for I vas responsible for all de account;” and the Jew laid down a receipt for Vanslyperken to sign.  Vanslyperken read it over.  It was an acknowledgment for the sum of fifty guineas, but not specifying for what service.  He did not much like to sign it, but how could he refuse?  Besides, as the Jew said, it was only to prove that the money was paid; nevertheless he objected.

“Vy vill you not sign?  I must not lose my monish, and I shall lose it if you do not sign.  Vat you fear—­you not fear that we peach; ven peoples pay so high, they not pay for noting.  We all sall hang togeder if de affair be found.”

Hang together! thought Vanslyperken, whose fears were roused, and he turned pale.

“You are vell paid for your shervices—­you vas vell paid at doder side of de vater, and you are now von of us.  You cannot go back, or your life vill be forfeit, I can assure you—­you vill sign if you please—­and you vill not leave dis house, until you do sign,” continued the Jew.  “You vill not take our monish and den give de information, and hang us all.  You vill sign, if you please, sare.”