Before the sun had set, the Yungfrau was again at sea, and, on the third morning, anchored in her usual berth off the town of Amsterdam.

Chapter LV

In which we trust that everything will be arranged to the satisfaction of our readers.

The French officer who was sent to explain what had occasioned the arrival of the cutter in the port of Cherbourg, immediately set off for the Hague, and was received by Lord Albemarle.

As soon as his credentials had been examined, he was introduced to his Majesty, King William.

“It appears,” said his Majesty to Lord Albemarle, after the introduction, “that these Jacobite conspirators have saved us one trouble by hanging this traitor, Vanslyperken.”

“Yes, your Majesty, he has met with his deserved punishment,” replied Lord Albemarle.

Then addressing himself to the officer, “We will return our acknowledgments for this proof of good will on the part of the French government,” said his Majesty, bowing.  “My Lord Albemarle, you will see that this gentleman is suitably entertained.”

The officer bowed low and retired.

“This is an over politeness which I do not admire,” observed his Majesty to Lord Albemarle.  “Let that person be well watched, depend upon it the letter is all a pretext, there is more plotting going on.”

“I am of your Majesty’s opinion, and shall be careful that your Majesty’s commands are put in force,” replied his lordship, as King William retired into his private apartments.

The cutter had not been half-an-hour at anchor, before Obadiah Coble went on shore with the corporal.  Their first object was to apply to the authorities, that the wounded men might be sent to the hospital, which they were before the night; the next was to deliver the letter to Mynheer Krause.  They thought it advisable to go first to the widow Vandersloosh, who was surprised at the sight of her dear corporal, and much more enraptured when she heard that Mr Vanslyperken and his cur had been hanged.

“I’ll keep my word, corporal,” cried the widow, “I told you I would not marry until he was hung, I don’t care if I marry you to-morrow.”

“Mein Gott, yes, to-day.”

“No, no, not to-day, corporal, or to-morrow either, we must wait till the poor fellows are out of the hospital, for I must have them all to the wedding.”

“Mein Gott, yes,” replied the corporal.

The widow then proceeded to state how she had been thrown into a dungeon, and how she and Mynheer Krause, the syndic, had been released the next day, how Mynheer Krause’s house had been burnt to the ground, and all the other particulars with which the reader is already acquainted.