“I don’t understand you, Herr major,” exclaimed Penurot with a visible effort.  “I know nothing whatever about this paper.  I am an honest business man.”

“And of course, Herr Brandelaar, you had no suspicion of the important stuffing in your white bread?  Now, I am not called upon to investigate the matter further.  It will be for the court-martial to throw light on the affair.”

The grocer turned as pale as death, and lifted up his hands imploringly.

“Mercy, Herr major, mercy!  As true as I live, I am innocent.”

Heideck pretended not to have heard his assertion.

“Further, I must tell you, gentlemen, that you are confoundedly bad men of business, to risk your lives for a miserable thirty pounds.  That was an inexcusable folly.  If ever you wanted to make money in that way, really you would have done better to work for us.  We would pay a man five times as much without haggling, if he would furnish us with really trustworthy information of this kind about the English fleet and army.”

At these words, spoken almost in a jovial tone, a gleam of hope showed itself in the countenance of the two men.  The grocer had opened his mouth to reply, when Heideck signed to him to be silent.

“Be so good as to go on deck for a while, Penurot,” said he.  “I will call you when I want to continue the conversation.  You shall give me your company first, Brandelaar.  I should like a few words with you in private.”

The man with the fashionably pointed beard obeyed.  Then Heideck turned to the Dutchman—­

“This Penurot is the guilty party, isn’t he?  As a skipper you have probably never troubled yourself much about politics during your lifetime:  you scarcely had a correct idea of the risk you were running.  If the court-martial condemns you, you will only have your friend Penurot to thank for it.”

“What you say is quite true, sir,” replied Brandelaar with well-acted simplicity.  “I have my cargo to sell for the firm of Van Spranekhuizen, and I don’t care a damn for war or spying.  I beg the Herr major to put in a good word for me.  I had no suspicion of what was inside the bread.”

“So this Penurot has drawn you into the affair without your knowing it.  Did he intend to go with you to Antwerp?”

“I will tell you the whole truth, Herr major!  Admiral Hollway at Dover, who is in control of the intelligence department for the Channel and the coast from Cuxhaven to Brest, gave me the two loaves for Camille Penurot.  That is all I know of the matter.”

“Was it the first time you had to carry out such commissions for Admiral Hollway?”

“So help me God, the first time!”

“But Penurot was not meant to keep these peculiar loaves for himself?  He, like yourself, is only an agent?  If you want me to speak for you, you must tell me unreservedly everything you know about it.”

“Penurot has a business friend in Antwerp, as the Herr major has rightly guessed.”