o the spy, the man who dogged my
father at The Hague."

As well might she have spoken to a statue. Indeed, of a sudden Lysbeth
seemed to be smitten into stone, for there she stood staring with a
blanched and meaningless face at the face of the man opposite to her.
Well might she stare, for she also knew him. Across the gulf of years,
one-eyed, bearded, withered, scarred as he was by suffering, passion
and evil thoughts, she knew him, for there before her stood one whom she
deemed dead, the wretch whom she had believed to be her husband, Juan de
Montalvo. Some magnetism drew his gaze to her; out of all the faces
of that crowd it was hers that leapt to his eye. He trembled and grew
white; he turned away, and swiftly was gone back into the hell of the
Gevangenhuis. Like a demon he had come out of it to survey the human
world beyond, and search for victims there; like a demon he went back
into his own place. So at least it seemed to Lysbeth.

"Come, come," she muttered and, drawing the girl with her, passed out of
the crowd.

Elsa began to talk in a strained voice that from time to time broke into
a sob.

"That is the man," she said. "He hounded down my father; it was his
wealth he wanted, but my father swore that he would die before he should
win it, and he is dead--dead in the Inquisition, and that man is his
murderer."

Lysbeth made no answer, never a word she uttered, till presently they
halted at a mean and humble door. Then she spoke for the first time in
cold and constrained accents.

"I am going in here to visit the Vrouw Jansen; you have heard of her,
the wife of him whom they burned. She sent to me to say that she is
sick, I know not of what, but there is smallpox about; I have heard of
four cases of it in the city, so, cousin, it is wisest that you should
not enter here. Give me the basket with the food and wine. Look, yonder
is the factory, quite close at hand, and there you will find Foy. Oh!
never mind Ramiro. What is done is done. Go and walk with Foy, and for a
while forget--Ramiro."

At the door of the factory Elsa found Foy awaiting her, and they walked
together through one of the gates of the city into the pleasant meadows
that lay beyond. At first they did not speak much, for each of them was
occupied with thoughts which pressed their tongues to silence. When they
were clear of the town, however, Elsa could contain herself no more;
indeed, the anguish awakened in her mind by the sight of Ramiro