"

"Yes. The light has quite gone," said the artist with a sigh.

Diogenes stood for a long time in contemplation of the masterpiece, even
as the shadows of evening crept slowly into every corner of the studio
and cast their gloom over the gorgeous canvas in its magnificent scheme
of colour.

"Am I really as good looking as that?" he asked with one of his most
winning laughs.

"Good looking? I don't know," replied Hals, "you are the best sitter I
have ever had. To-day has been one of perfect, unalloyed enjoyment to
me."

All his vulgar, mean little ways had vanished, his obsequiousness, that
shifty look of indecision in the eyes which proclaimed a growing vice.
His entire face flowed with the enthusiasm of a creator who has had to
strain every nerve to accomplish his work, but having accomplished it,
is entirely satisfied with it. He could not tear himself away from the

picture, but stood looking at it long after the gloom had obliterated
all but its most striking lights.

Then only did he realise that he was both hungry and weary.

"Will you come with me to the 'Lame Cow,'" he said to his friend, "we
can eat and drink there and hear all the latest news. I want to see
Cornelius Beresteyn if I can; he must be deeply stricken with grief and
will have need of the sympathy of all his well-wishers. What say you?
Shall we get supper at the 'Lame Cow'?"

To which proposition Diogenes readily agreed. It pleased his spirit of
adventure to risk a chance encounter in the popular tavern with Nicolaes
Beresteyn or the Lord of Stoutenburg, both of whom must think him at
this moment several leagues away in the direction of Rotterdam. Neither
of these gentlemen would venture to question him in a public place;
moreover it had been agreed from the first that he was to be given an
absolutely free hand with regard to his plans for conducting the
jongejuffrouw to her ultimate destination.

Altogether the afternoon and evening promised to be more amusing than
Diogenes had anticipated.

CHAPTER XXI

A GRIEF-STRICKEN FATHER

Frans Hals had not been guilty of exaggeration when he said that the
whole city was in a turmoil about the abduction of Gilda Beresteyn by
that impudent gang of ocean-robbers who called themselves the
sea-wolves.

On this subject there were no two opinions. The sea-wolves had done this
deed as they had done others of a like nature before. The abduction of
children of rich parents was one of th