there was no need of oaths. Pythagoras
and Socrates had said nothing: silent and furtive they disappeared into
the darkness. Diogenes' head sank down upon his breast with a last sigh
of satisfaction. He knew that his compeers would do what he had asked.
Jan's footsteps rang on the hard-frozen ground--silently the living
circle had parted and the philosophers were swallowed up by the gloom.

Jan looks suspiciously at the groups of men who now stand desultorily
around.

"Who was standing beside the prisoner just now?" he asks curtly.

"When, captain?" queries one of the men blandly.

"A moment ago. I was descending the steps. The lanthorn was close to the
prisoner; I saw two forms--that looked unfamiliar to me--close to him."

"Oh!" rejoined Piet the Red unblushingly, "it must have been my back
that you saw, captain. Willem and I were looking to see that the ropes
had not given way. The prisoner is so restless...."

Jan--not altogether re-assured--goes up to the prisoner. He raises the
lanthorn and has a good and comprehensive look at all the ropes. Then he
examines the man's face.

"What ho!" he cries, "a bottle of spiced wine from my wallet. The
prisoner has fainted."

CHAPTER XXXVII

DAWN

What a commotion when dawn breaks at last; it comes grey, dull, leaden,
scarce lighter than the night, the haze more dense, the frost more
biting. But it does break at last after that interminable night of
excitement and sleeplessness and preparations for the morrow.

Jan has never closed an eye, he has scarcely rested even, pacing up and
down, in and out of those gargantuan beams, with the molens and its
secrets towering above his head. Nor I imagine did those noble lords and
mynheers up there sleep much during this night; but they were tired and
lay like logs upon straw paillasses, living over again the past few
hours, the carrying of heavy iron boxes one by one from the molens to
the wooden bridge, the unloading there, the unpacking in the darkness,
and the disposal of the death-dealing powder, black and evil smelling,
which will put an end with its one mighty crash--to tyranny and the
Stadtholder's life.

Tired they are but too excited to sleep: the last few hours are like a
vivid dream; the preparation of the tinder, the arrangements, the
position to be taken up by Beresteyn and Heemskerk, the two chosen
lieutenants who will send the wooden bridge over the Schie flying in
splinters into the air.

Van Doe