There was a steadiness of countenance and a firmness in the tone of the old man, which told Vanslyperken that he was not to be trifled with, and assured him that he must have help at hand if requisite.  If left to himself, the Jew would have been easily mastered by the lieutenant, but that such was not the case, was soon proved, by the old man ringing a small silver bell on the table, and shortly afterwards there was a rustling and noise, as if of several persons, heard in the passage.  Vanslyperken now perceived that he was entrapped, and he also felt that it was too late to retreat.  Actuated by his fear of violence on the one hand, and his love of gold on the other, he consented to sign the voucher required.  As soon as this was done, the old Jew was all civility.  He took the paper, and locked it up in a large cabinet, and then observed,

“It is for your own shafety, sare lieutenant, dat we are obliged to do dis.  You have noting to fear—­we are too much in want of good friends like you, to lose them, but we must be safe and shure; now you are von of us—­you cannot tell but we can tell too—­we profit togeder, and I vill hope dat we do run no risk to be hang togeder.  Fader Abraham! we must not think of that, but of de good cause, and of de monish.  I am a Jew, and I care not whether de Papist or de Protestant have de best of it—­but I call it all de good cause, because every cause is good which brings de monish.”

So thought Vanslyperken, who was in heart a Jew.

“And now, sare, you vill please to take great care of de packet, and deliver it to our friend at Amsterdam, and you vill of course come to me ven you return here.”

Vanslyperken took his leave, with the packet in his pocket, not very well pleased; but as he put the packet in, he felt the yellow bag, and that to a certain degree consoled him.  The old Jew escorted him to the door, with his little keen gray eyes fixed upon him, and Vanslyperken quailed before it, and was glad when he was once more in the street.  He hastened back to the widow’s house, full of thought—­he certainly had never intended to have so committed himself as he had done, or to have positively enrolled himself among the partisans of the exiled king; but the money had entrapped him—­he had twice taken their wages, and he had now been obliged to give them security for his fidelity, by enabling them to prove his guilt whenever they pleased.  All this made Mr Vanslyperken rather melancholy—­but his meditations were put an end to by his arrival in the presence of the charming widow.  She asked him what had passed, and he narrated it, but with a little variation, for he would not tell that he had signed through a fear of violence, but, at the same time, he observed, that he did not much like signing a receipt.

“But that is necessary,” replied she; “and besides, why not?  I know you are on our side, and you will prove most valuable to us.  Indeed, I believe it was your readiness to meet my wishes that made me so fond of you, for I am devotedly attached to the rightful king, and I never would marry any man who would not risk life and soul for him, as you have done now.”