“Steady, here is the place, praise the Saints!  Now, then, out passengers and let us be gone.”

Adrian, whom events had made timid, drew beneath the shadow of the bank and watched, while from the dim outline of the boat arose three figures, or rather two figures arose, dragging the third between them.

“Hold her,” said a voice that seemed familiar, “while I give these men their hire,” and there followed a noise of clinking coin, mingled with some oaths and grumbling about the weather and the distance, which were abated with more coin.  Then again the oars rattled and the boat was pushed off, whereon a sweet voice cried in agonised tones: 

“Sirs, you who have wives and daughters, will you leave me in the hands of these wretches?  In the name of God take pity upon my helplessness.”

“It is a shame, and she so fair a maid,” grumbled another thick and raucous voice, but the steersman cried, “Mind your business, Marsh Jan.  We have done our job and got our pay, so leave the gentry to settle their own love affairs.  Good night to you, passengers; give way, give way,” and the boat swung round and vanished into the gloom.

For a moment Adrian’s heart stood still; then he sprang forward to see before him Hague Simon, the Butcher, Black Meg his wife, and between them a bundle wrapped in shawls.

“What is this?” he asked.

“You ought to know, Heer Adrian,” answered Black Meg with a chuckle, “seeing that this charming piece of goods has been brought all the way from Leyden, regardless of expense, for your especial benefit.”

The bundle lifted its head, and the faint light shone upon the white and terrified face of—­Elsa Brant.

“May God reward you for this evil deed, Adrian, called van Goorl,” said the pitiful voice.

“This deed!  What deed?” he stammered in answer.  “I know nothing of it, Elsa Brant.”

“You know nothing of it?  Yet it was done in your name, and you are here to receive me, who was kidnapped as I walked outside Leyden to be dragged hither with force by these monsters.  Oh! have you no heart and no fear of judgment that you can speak thus?”

“Free her,” roared Adrian, rushing at the Butcher to see a knife gleaming in his hand and another in that of Black Meg.

“Stop your nonsense, Master Adrian, and stand back.  If you have anything to say, say it to your father, the Count.  Come, let us pass, for we are cold and weary,” and taking Elsa by the elbows they brushed past him, nor, indeed, even had he not been too bewildered to interfere, could Adrian have stayed them, for he was unarmed.  Besides, where would be the use, seeing that the boat had gone and that they were alone on a winter’s night in the wind-swept wilderness, with no refuge for miles save such as the mill house could afford.  So Adrian bent his head, for the snow had begun to fall again, and, sick at heart, followed them along the path.  Now he understood at length why they had come to the Red Mill.