“And the dog?” said Vanslyperken, observing the strewed fragments of the door hatch.

“He’s a-bitten himself out, sir, I believe.”

“And where is he, then?”

“I don’t know, sir; I suppose he’s gone down to the boat.”

Snarleyyow hearing his master’s voice, had commenced a whine, and Smallbones trembled:  fortunately, at that moment, the widow’s ample form appeared at the back-door of the house, and she called to Mr Vanslyperken.  The widow’s voice drowned the whine of the dog, and his master did not hear it.  At the summons, Vanslyperken but half convinced, but not daring to show any interest about the animal in the presence of his mistress, returned to the parlour, and very soon the dog was forgotten.

But as the orgies in the Lust Haus increased, so did it become more necessary for the widow to make frequent visits there; not only to supply her customers, but to restrain them by her presence; and as the evening wore away, so did the absences of the widow become more frequent.  This Vanslyperken well knew, and he therefore always pressed his suit in the afternoon, and as soon as it was dark returned on board.  Smallbones, who watched at the back-door the movements of his master, perceived that he was refixing his sword-belt over his shoulder, and he knew this to be the signal for departure.  It was now quite dark, he therefore hastened to the outhouse, and dragged out Snarleyyow in the bag, swung him over his shoulder, and walked out of the yard-door, proceeded to the canal in front of the widow’s house, looked round him, could perceive nobody, and then dragged the bag with its contents into the stagnant water below, just as Mr Vanslyperken, who had bidden adieu to the widow, came out of the house.  There was a heavy splash—­and silence.  Had such been heard on the shores of the Bosphorus on such a night, it would have told some tale of unhappy love and a husband’s vengeance; but, at Amsterdam, it was nothing more than the drowning of a cur.

“Who’s there—­is it Smallbones?” said Mr Vanslyperken.

“Yes, sir,” said Smallbones, with alarm.

“What was that noise I heard?”

“Noise, sir?  Oh, I kicked a paving-stone into the canal.”

“And don’t you know there is heavy fine for that, you scoundrel?  And pray where are the bread-bags?”

“The bread-bags, sir?  Oh, Mr Short took them to tie up some vegetables in them.”

“Mr Short!  O, very well.  Come along, sir, and no more throwing stones into the canal; why you might have killed somebody—­there is a boat down there now, I hear the people talking.”  And Mr Vanslyperken hastened to his boat, which was waiting for him; anxious to ascertain if Snarleyyow, as he fully expected, was in it.  But to his grief and disappointment he was not there, and Mr Vanslyperken sat in the stern sheets, in no pleasant humour, thinking whether it was or was not a paving-stone which Smallbones had thrown into the canal, and resolving that if the dog did not appear, Smallbones should be keel-hauled.  There was, however, one more chance, the dog might have been taken on board.