The Laughing Cavalier Baroness Orczy (bill gates books recommendations txt) 📖

found its way through the chinks and cracks of tumble-down doors and ill-fitting window frames.

Though a soft powdery veil⁠—smooth as velvet to the touch and made up of flour and fine dust⁠—lay over everything, and the dry, sweet smell of corn still hung in the close atmosphere, there was little else in this room now that suggested the peaceful use for which it had been originally intended.

The big weighing machines had been pushed into corners, and all round the sloping walls swords, cullivers and muskets were piled in orderly array, also a row of iron boxes standing a foot or so apart from one another and away from any other objects in the room.

The silence which reigned over the surrounding landscape did not find its kingdom inside this building, for a perpetual hum, a persistent buzzing noise as of bees in their hives, filtrated through the floor and the low ceiling of this room. Men moved and talked and laughed inside the molens, but the movement and the laughter were subdued as if muffled in that same mantle of mist which covered the outside world.

The two men in the weighing-room were sitting at a table on which were scattered papers, inkhorns and pens, a sword, a couple of pistols and two or three pairs of skates. One of them was leaning forward and talking eagerly:

“I think you can rest satisfied, my good Stoutenburg,” he said, “our preparations leave nothing to be desired. I have just seen Jan, and together we have despatched the man Lucas van Sparendam to Delft. He is the finest spy in the country, and can ferret out a plan or sift a rumour quicker than any man I know. He will remain at Delft and keep the Prinzenhof under observation: and will only leave the city if anything untoward should happen, and then he will come straight here and report to us. He is a splendid runner, and can easily cover the distance between Delft and this molens in an hour. That is satisfactory is it not?”

“Quite,” replied Stoutenburg curtly.

“Our arrangements here on the other hand are equally perfect,” resumed Beresteyn eagerly, “we have kept the whole thing in our own hands⁠ ⁠… Heemskerk and I will be at our posts ready to fire the gunpowder at the exact moment when the advance guard of the Prince’s escort will have gone over the bridge⁠ ⁠… you, dagger in hand, will be prepared to make a dash for the carriage itself⁠ ⁠… our men will attack the scattered and confused guard at a word from van Does.⁠ ⁠… What could be more simple, more perfect than that? Yourself, Heemskerk, van Does and I⁠ ⁠… all of one mind⁠ ⁠… all equally true, silent and determined.⁠ ⁠… You seem so restless and anxious.⁠ ⁠… Frankly I do not understand you.”

“It is not of our preparations or of our arrangements that I am thinking, Nicolaes,” said Stoutenburg sombrely, “these have been thought out well enough. Nothing but superhuman intervention or treachery can save the Stadtholder⁠—of that am I convinced. Neither God nor the devil care to interfere in men’s affairs⁠—we need not therefore fear superhuman intervention. But ’tis the thought of treachery that haunts me.”

“Bah!” quoth Beresteyn with a shrug of the shoulders, “you have made a nightmare of that thought. Treachery? there is no fear of treachery. Yourself, van Does, Heemskerk and I are the only ones who know anything at this moment of our plans for tomorrow. Do you suspect van Does of treachery, or Heemskerk, or me?”

“I was not thinking of Heemskerk or of van Does,” rejoined Stoutenburg, “and even our men will know nothing of the attack until the last moment. Danger, friend, doth not lie in or around the molens; it lurks at Rotterdam and hath name Gilda.”

“Gilda! What can you fear from Gilda now?”

“Everything. Have you never thought on it, friend? Jan, remember, lost track of that knave soon after he left Haarlem. At first he struck across the waterways in a southerly direction and for awhile Jan and the others were able to keep him in sight. But soon darkness settled in and along many intricate backwaters our rogue was able to give them the slip.”

“I know that,” rejoined Beresteyn somewhat impatiently. “I was here in the early morning when Jan reported to you. He also told you that he and his men pushed on as far as Leyden that night and regained the road to Rotterdam the following day. At Zegwaard and again at Zevenhuizen they ascertained that a party consisting of two women in a sledge and an escort of three cavaliers had halted for refreshments at those places and then continued their journey southwards. Since then Jan has found out definitely that Gilda and her escort arrived early last night at the house of Ben Isaje of Rotterdam, and he came straight on here to report to you. Frankly I see nothing in all this to cause you so much anxiety.”

“You think then that everything is for the best?” asked Stoutenburg grimly, “you did not begin to wonder how it was that⁠—as Jan ascertained at Zegwaard and at Zevenhuizen⁠—Gilda continued her journey without any protest. According to the people whom Jan questioned she looked sad certainly, but she was always willing to restart on her way. What do you make of that, my friend?”

Once more Beresteyn shrugged his shoulders.

“Gilda is proud,” he said. “She hath resigned herself to her fate.”

Stoutenburg laughed aloud.

“How little you⁠—her own brother⁠—know her,” he retorted. “Gilda resigned? Gilda content to let events shape themselves⁠—such events as those which she heard us planning in the Groote Kerk on New Year’s Eve? Why, my friend, Gilda will never be resigned, she will never be content until she hath moved earth and heaven to save the Stadtholder from my avenging hand!”

“But what can she do now? Ben Isaje is honest in business matters. It would not pay him to play his customers false. And I have promised him two thousand