“Well then, lieutenant,” said the widow, “if mortal man can’t hurt him, mortal woman may; and for my love for you I will prepare what will rid you of him.  But, Vanslyperken, recollect there’s nothing I would not do for you; but if it were found out—­O dear!  O dear!”

The widow then informed him that she would prepare a red-herring with arsenic, which he should take on board, and order Smallbones to grill for his breakfast; that he was to pretend not to be well, and to allow it to be taken away by the lad, who would, of course, eat it fast enough.

“Excellent!” replied Vanslyperken, who felt not only that he should get rid of Smallbones, but have the widow in his power.  “Dearest widow, how can I be sufficiently grateful?  Oh! how kind, how amiable you are!” continued Vanslyperken, mumbling her fat fingers, which the widow abandoned to him without reserve.

Who would have believed that, between these two, there existed a deadly hatred?  We might imagine such a thing to take place in the refinement and artificial air of a court, but not in a Dutch Lust Haus at Amsterdam.  That evening, before his departure, did the widow present her swain with the fatal herring; and the swain received it with as many marks of gratitude and respect, as some knight in ancient times would have shown when presented with some magical gift by his favouring genius.

The red-herring itself was but a red-herring, but the charm consisted in the two-pennyworth of arsenic.

The next morning Vanslyperken did not fail to order the red-herring for his breakfast, but took good care not to eat it.

Smallbones, who had been duly apprised of the whole plan, asked his master, as he cleared away, whether he should keep the red-herring for the next day; but Mr Vanslyperken very graciously informed him that he might eat it himself.  About an hour afterwards Mr Vanslyperken went on shore, taking with him, for the first time, Snarleyyow, and desiring Smallbones to come with him, with a bag of biscuit for the widow.  This plan had been proposed by the widow, as Smallbones might be supposed to have eaten something on shore.  Smallbones took as good care as his master not to eat the herring, but put it in his pocket as a bonne bouche for Snarleyyow.  Mr Vanslyperken, as they pulled on shore, thought that the lad smelt very strong of herring, and this satisfied him that he had eaten it; but to make more sure, he exclaimed, “Confound it, how you smell of red-herring!”

“That’s all along of having eaten one, sir,” replied Smallbones, grinning.

“You’ll grin in another way before an hour is over,” thought his master.

The lieutenant, the dog, and the biscuit were all graciously received.

“Has he eaten it?” inquired the widow.

“Yes,” replied Vanslyperken, with a nod.  “Empty the bag, and I will send him on board again.”

“Not yet, not yet—­give him half an hour to saunter, it will be better.  That poor dog of yours must want a little grass,” said the widow, “always being on board.  Let him run a little in the yard, he will find plenty there.”