y and in a tone of deep
disgust.

"Followed on his trail as best we could," rejoins Socrates simply,
"borrowed some skates, ran down the Schie in the wake of the two sledges
and their escort."

"And after that?"

"After that we traced him to this solitary God-forsaken hole, but
presently we saw that this molens was not so deserted as it seemed, so
we hung about until now ... then we ventured nearer ... and here we
are."

Here they were of course, but how was it possible to contravene the
orders of Jan? What could these scarecrows have to say to the Laughing
Cavalier?

"Just to ask him if there's anything we can do," murmurs Socrates
persuasively. "He's like to hang to-morrow, you said, well! grant
something then to a dying man."

Grave heads shake in the gloom.

"Our orders are strict...."

"'Tis a matter of life and death it seems...."

"Bah!" quoth Pythagoras more insinuatingly still, "we are two to your
thirty! What have ye all to fear?"

"Here! tie my hands behind my back," suggests Socrates. "I only want to
speak with him. How could we help him to escape?"

"We would not think of such a thing," murmurs Pythagoras piously.

Anxious glances meet one another in consultation. More than one kindly
heart beats beneath these ragged doublets. Bah! the man is to hang
to-morrow, why not give pleasure to a dying man?

If indeed it be pleasure to look on such hideous scarecrows a few hours
before death.

Jan is not here. He is with my lord, helping with those heavy boxes.

"Five minutes, you old mushroom-face," suggests he who has been left in
charge.

And all the others nod approval.

But they will take no risks about the prisoner. Pleasure and five
minutes' conversation with his friends, yes! but no attempt at escape.
So the men make a wide circle sitting out of ear-shot, but shoulder to
shoulder the thirty of them who happen to be awake. In the centre of the
circle is the Laughing Cavalier tied to a beam, trussed like a fowl
since he is to hang on the morrow.

Close beside his feet is the lanthorn so that he may have a last look at
his friends, and some few paces away his naked sword which Jan took from
him when the men brought him down.

He has listened to the whispered conversation--he knows that his
brother philosophers are here. May the God of rogues and villains bless
them for their loyalty.

"And now St. Bavon show me the best way to make use of them!"

There is still something to be done