no disgrace in his want of
skill. But he would not yield the ground to this adventurer who meant to
snatch Gilda away from him. After all the man had a wounded shoulder and
a lacerated hip; with the aid of Jan and of Nicolaes he could soon be
rendered helpless.

New hope rose in the Lord of Stoutenburg's heart, giving vigour to his
arm. Now he heard the sound of running footsteps behind him; Jan was
coming to his aid and there were others; Nicolaes no doubt and
Heemskerk.

"My lord! my lord!" cried Jan, horrified at what he saw. He had heard
the clang of steel against steel and had caught up the first sword that
came to his hand. His calls and those of Stoutenburg as well as the more
lusty ones of Diogenes reached the ears of Beresteyn, who with his
friend Heemskerk was making a final survey of the molens, to search for
compromising papers that might have been left about. They too heard the
cries and the clash of steel; they ran down the steps of the molens,
only to meet Jan who was hurrying toward the hut with all his might.

"I think my lord is being attacked," shouted Jan as he flew past, "and
the jongejuffrouw is still in the hut."

These last words dissipated Nicolaes Beresteyn's sudden thoughts of
cowardice. He too snatched up a sword and followed by Heemskerk he ran
in Jan's wake.

The stranger, so lately a prisoner condemned to hang, was in the doorway
of the hut, with his back to it, his sword in his left hand keeping my
Lord of Stoutenburg at arm's length. Jan, Nicolaes and Heemskerk were on
him in a trice.

"Two, three, how many of you?" queried Diogenes with a laugh, as with
smart riposte he met the three blades which suddenly flashed out against
him. "Ah, Mynheer Beresteyn, my good Jan, I little thought that I would
see you again."

"Let me pass, man," cried Beresteyn, "I must to my sister."

"Not yet, friend," he replied, "till I know what your intentions are."

For one instant Beresteyn appeared to hesitate. The kindly sentiment
which had prompted him awhile ago to speak sympathetic words to a
condemned man who had taken so much guilt upon his shoulders, still
fought in his heart against his hatred for the man himself. Since that
tragic moment at the foot of the gallows which had softened his mood,
Beresteyn had learnt that it was this man who had betrayed him and his
friends to the Stadtholder, and guessed that it was Gilda who had
instigated or bribed him into that betrayal. And now the prese