Lost! lost!" and his years and infirmity now gained the better of his short-lived frenzy, and he sank on the chest muttering "Lost! lost!" "What is lost, master ?" asked the servant kindly.
"House and lands and good name," groaned Ghysbrecht, and wrung his hands feebly.
"WHAT ?" cried the servant.
This emphatic word, and the tone of eager curiosity, struck on Ghysbrecht's ear and revived his natural cunning.
"I have lost the town records," stammered he, and he looked askant at the man like a fox caught near a hen-roost.
"Oh, is that all ?" "Is't not enough?
What will the burghers say to me?
What will the burghs do ?" Then he suddenly burst out again, "A hundred crowns to him who shall recover them; all, mind, all that were in this box.

If one be missing, I give nothing." "'Tis a bargain, master: the hundred crowns are in my pouch.

See you not that where Gerard Eliassoen is, there are the pieces of sheepskin you rate so high ?" "That is true; that is true, good Dierich: good faithful Dierich.

All, mind, all that were in the chest." "Master, I will take the constables to Gerard's house, and seize him for the theft." "The theft?
ay! good; very good.

It is theft.