stranger had left behind him, he sprang from his chair, meaning to
fling it after him into the street. But the flashing of the firelight
on its burnished surface stayed his hand.

"After all, the case is of value," Nicholas chuckled, and put the
flask aside and, lighting the two tall candles, buried himself again
in his green-bound ledger. Yet still from time to time Nicholas
Snyders' eye would wander to where the silver flask remained half
hidden among dusty papers. And later there came again a knocking at
the door, and this time it really was young Jan who entered.

Jan held out his great hand across the littered desk.

"We parted in anger, Nicholas Snyders. It was my fault. You were in
the right. I ask you to forgive me. I was poor. It was selfish of
me to wish the little maid to share with me my poverty. But now I am
no longer poor."

"Sit down," responded Nicholas in kindly tone. "I have heard of it.
So now you are master and the owner of your ship--your very own."

"My very own after one more voyage," laughed Jan. "I have Burgomaster
Allart's promise."

"A promise is not a performance," hinted Nicholas. "Burgomaster
Allart is not a rich man; a higher bid might tempt him. Another might
step in between you and become the owner."

Jan only laughed. "Why, that would be the work of an enemy, which,
God be praised, I do not think that I possess."