Philip did not wait to hear any more; he crawled behind the bushes until he gained the grove of trees, and passing through them, made a detour, so as not to be seen by these miscreants.  That they were disbanded soldiers, many of whom were infesting the country, he knew well.  All his thoughts were now to save the old doctor and his daughter from the danger which threatened them; and for a time he forgot his father, and the exciting revelations of the day.  Although Philip had not been aware in what direction he had walked when he set off from the cottage, he knew the country well; and now that it was necessary to act, he remembered the direction in which he should find the lonely house of Mynheer Poots:  with the utmost speed he made his way for it, and in less than twenty minutes he arrived there, out of breath.

As usual, all was silent, and the door fastened.  Philip knocked, but there was no reply.  Again and again he knocked, and became impatient.  Mynheer Poots must have been summoned, and was not in the house; Philip therefore called out, so as to be heard within.  “Maiden, if your father is out, as I presume he must be, listen to what I have to say—­I am Philip Vanderdecken.  But now I overheard four wretches who have planned to murder your father, and rob him of his gold.  In one hour or less they will be here, and I have hastened to warn and to protect you, if I may.  I swear upon the relic that you delivered to me this morning that what I state is true.”

Philip waited a short time, but received no answer.

“Maiden,” resumed he, “answer me, if you value that which is more dear to you, than even your father’s gold to him.  Open the casement above, and listen to what I have to say.  In so doing there is no risk; and even if it were not dark, already have I seen you.”

A short time after this second address, the casement of the upper window was unbarred, and the slight form of the fair daughter of Mynheer Poots was to be distinguished by Philip through the gloom.

“What wouldst thou, young sir, at this unseemly hour? and what is it thou wouldst impart, but imperfectly heard by me, when thou spokest this minute at the door?”

Philip then entered into a detail of all that he had overheard, and concluded by begging her to admit him, that he might defend her.

“Think, fair maiden, of what I have told you.  You have been sold to one of those reprobates, whose name I think they mentioned, was Baetens.  The gold, I know, you value not; but think of thine own dear self—­suffer me to enter the house, and think not for one moment that my story’s feigned.  I swear to thee, by the soul of my poor dear mother, now, I trust, in heaven, that every word is true.”

“Baetens, said you, sir?”

“If I mistook them not, such was the name; he said he loved you once.”

“That name I have in memory—­I know not what to do or what to say—­my father has been summoned to a birth, and may be yet away for many hours.  Yet how can I open the door to you—­at night—­he is not at home—­I alone?  I ought not—­cannot—­yet do I believe you.  You surely never could be so base as to invent this tale.”