"Well then," replied the miser, "you can come back and see me
to-morrow. I have done without an apprentice for some years. Besides,
I wish to sleep upon the matter."

"Hey! by Saint-Bavon, monsieur, I am a Fleming; I don't know a soul in
this place; the chains are up in the streets, and I shall be put in
prison. However," he added, frightened at the eagerness he was showing
in his words, "if it is your good pleasure, of course I will go."

The oath seemed to affect the old man singularly.

"Come, come, by Saint-Bavon indeed, you shall sleep here."

"But--" said his sister, alarmed.

"Silence," replied Cornelius. "In his letter Oosterlinck tells me he
will answer for this young man. You know," he whispered in his
sister's ear, "we have a hundred thousand francs belonging to
Oosterlinck? That's a hostage, hey!"

"And suppose he steals those Bavarian jewels? Tiens, he looks more
like a thief than a Fleming."

"Hush!" exclaimed the old man, listening attentively to some sound.

Both misers listened. A moment after the "Hush!" uttered by Cornelius,
a noise produced by the steps of several men echoed in the distance on
the other side of the moat of the town.

"It is the Plessis guard on their rounds," said the sister.