Beside the bed there was a paper, addressed to the authorities, in which he acknowledged that he had murdered his father for the sake of his wealth; and that when he went to take some of it for his expenses on the day afterwards, he found his father’s spirit sitting on the bags of money, and menacing him with instant death, if he touched one piece.  He returned again and again, and found his father a sentinel as before.  At last, he gave up attempting to obtain it; his crime made him miserable, and he continued in possession, without daring to expend one sixpence of all the money.  He requested that, as his end was approaching, the money should be given to the church of his patron saint, wherever that church might be found; if there was not one, then that a church might be built and endowed.  Upon investigation, it appeared that there was no such church in either Holland or the Low Countries (for you know that there are not many Catholics there); and they applied to the Catholic countries, Lisbon and Spain, but there again they were at fault; and it was discovered, that the only church dedicated to that saint was one which had been erected by a Portuguese nobleman in the city of Goa, in the East Indies.  The Catholic bishop determined that the money should be sent to Goa; and, in consequence, it was embarked on board of my patron’s vessel, to be delivered up to the first Portuguese authorities he might fall in with.

“Well, signor, the money, for better security, was put down into the captain’s cabin, which, of course, was occupied by my noble friend, and when he went to bed the first night he was surprised to perceive a little one eyed old man sitting on the boxes.”

“Merciful Saviour!” exclaimed the Commandant, “what, the very same little man who appeared here this day?”

“The very same,” replied Krantz.

The Commandant crossed himself, and Krantz proceeded:—­“My noble patron was, as you may imagine, rather alarmed; but he is very courageous in disposition, and he inquired of the old man who he was, and how he had come on board?

“‘I came on board with my own money,’ replied the spectre.  It is all my own, and I shall keep it.  The church shall never have one stiva of it if I can help it.’

“Whereupon, my patron pulled out a famous relic, which he wears on his bosom, and held it towards him; at which the old man howled and screamed, and then most unwillingly disappeared.  For two more nights the spectre was obstinate, but at the sight of the relic, he invariably went off howling as if in great pain; every time that he went away, invariably crying out ‘Lost—­lost!’ and during the remainder of the voyage he did not trouble us any more.