head," cried Diogenes gaily, "see that our
friend here does not interfere with me: and that he hath not a concealed
poniard somewhere about his person, then collect all pistols and swords
that are lying about, well out of harm's way. In the meanwhile what am I
to do with his Magnificence? he is kicking like a vicious colt and that
shoulder of mine is beginning to sting like fury."

"Kill me, man, kill me!" cried Stoutenburg savagely, "curse you, why
don't you end this farce?"

"Because, my lord," said Diogenes more seriously than was his wont, "the
purest and most exquisite woman on God's earth did once deign to bestow
the priceless jewel of her love upon you. Did she know of your present
plight, she would even now be pleading for you: therefore," he added
more flippantly, "I am going to give myself the satisfaction of making
you a present of the last miserable shred of existence which you will
drag on from this hour forth in wretchedness and exile to the end of
your days. Take your life and freedom, my lord," he continued in
response to the invectives which Stoutenburg muttered savagely under
his breath, "take it at the hands of the miserable plepshurk whom you so
despise. It is better methinks to do this rather than fall into the
hands of the Stadtholder, whose mercy for a fallen enemy would be equal
to your own."

Then he shouted to Pythagoras.

"Here, old compeer! search his Magnificence for concealed weapons, and
then make ready to go. We have wasted too much time already."

Despite Stoutenburg's struggles and curses Pythagoras obeyed his brother
philosopher to the letter. His lordship and Jan were both effectually
disarmed now. Then only did Diogenes allow Stoutenburg to struggle to
his feet. He had his sword in his left hand and Pythagoras stood beside
him. Jan found his master's hat and cloak and helped him on with them,
and then he said quietly:

"The minutes are precious, my lord, 'tis a brief run to Ryswyk: my Lord
of Heemskerk has gone and Mynheer Beresteyn has disappeared. Here we can
do nothing more."

"Nothing, my good Jan," said Diogenes more seriously, "you are a brave
soldier and a faithful servant. Take his Magnificence away to safety.
You have well deserved your own."

Stoutenburg gave a last cry of rage and of despair. For a moment it
seemed as if his blind fury would still conquer reason and prudence and
that he meant once more to make an attack upon his victorious enemy, but
something in