my intention of sleeping under the stars and asking my friend Frans Hals for some breakfast later on."
Beresteyn had quickly recovered his equanimity.
"I have no cause to deny it," he said.
"None," assented Diogenes.
"Something, sir, in your manner and your speech last night aroused my interest. Surely you would not take offence at that."
"Certainly not."
"And hearing you speak, a certain instinct prompted me to try and not lose sight of you if I could by some means ascertain where you lodged. My friend and I did follow you: I own it, and we witnessed a little scene which I confess did you infinite credit."
Diogenes merely bowed his head this time in acknowledgment.
"It showed, sir," resumed Nicolaes after a slight pause, "that you are chivalrous to a fault, brave and kindly: and these are just the three qualities which I — even like your illustrious namesake — have oft sought for in vain."
"Shall we add, also for the sake of truth, sir," said Diogenes pleasantly, "that I am obviously penniless, presumably unscrupulous and certainly daring, and that these are just the three qualities which you ... and your friend ... most require at the present moment in the man whom you wish to pay for certain services."
"You read my thoughts, sir."
"Have I not said that I have eyes at the back of my head?"
And Nicolaes Beresteyn wondered if that second pair of eyes were as merry and mocking and withal as inscrutable as those that met his now.
"Well," he said as if with suddenly conceived determination, "again I see no cause why I should deny it. Yes, sir, you have made a shrewd guess. I have need of your services, of your chivalry and of your valour and ... well, yes," he added after an instant's hesitation, "of your daring and your paucity of scruples too. As for your penury, why, sir, if you like, its pangs need worry you no longer."
"It all sounds very tempting, sir," said Diogenes with his most winning smile, "suppose now that we put preliminaries aside and proceed more directly with our business."
"As you will."
Nicolaes Beresteyn now took the other chair and brought it close to his interlocutor. Then he sat down and sinking his voice to a whisper he began:
"I will be as brief and to the point as I can, sir. There are secrets as you know the knowledge of which is oft-times dangerous. Such an one was spoken of in the cathedral last night after watch-night service by six men who hold their lives in their hands and are ready to sacrifice it for the good of their country and of their faith."
"In other words," interposed Diogenes with dry humour, "six men in the cathedral last night decided to murder some one for the good of this country and of their faith and for the complete satisfaction of the devil."
"'Tis false!" cried Beresteyn involuntarily.
"Be not angered, sir, I was merely guessing — and not guessing methinks very wide of the mark. I pray you proceed. You vastly interest me. We left then six men in the cathedral after watch-night service plotting for the welfare of Holland and the established Faith."
"Their lives, sir," resumed Beresteyn more calmly, "depend on the inviolability of their secret. You are good at guessing — will you guess what would happen to those six men if their conversation last night had been overheard and their secret betrayed."
"The scaffold," said Diogenes laconically.
"And torture."
"Of course. Holland always has taken the lead in civilization of late."
"Torture and death, sir," reiterated Beresteyn vehemently. "There are six men in this city to-day whose lives are at the mercy of one woman."
"Oho! 'twas a woman then who surprised those six men in their endeavour to do good to Holland and to uphold the Faith."
"Rightly spoken, sir! To do good to Holland and to uphold the Faith! those are the two motives which guide six ardent patriots in their present actions and cause them to risk their lives and more, that they may bring about the sublime end. A woman has surprised their secret, a woman pure and good as the stars but a woman for all that, weak in matters of sentiment and like to be swayed by a mistaken sense of what she would call her duty. A woman now, sir, holds the future happiness of Holland, the triumph of Faith and the lives of six stalwart patriots in the hollow of her hand."
"And 'tis with the lives of six stalwart patriots that we are most concerned at the moment, are we not?" asked Diogenes blandly.
"Put it as you will, sir. I cannot expect you — a stranger — to take the welfare of Holland and of her Faith so earnestly as we Dutchmen do. Our present concern is with the woman."
"Is she young?"
"Yes."
"Pretty?"
"What matter?"
"I don't know. The fact might influence mine actions. For of course you wish to put the woman out of the way."
"Only for a time and from my soul I wish her no harm. I only want to place her out of the reach of doing us all a grievous wrong. Already she has half threatened to speak of it all to my father. The idea of it is unthinkable. I want her out of the way for a few days, not more than ten days at most. I want her taken out of Haarlem, to a place of safety which I will point out to you anon, and under the care of faithful dependents who would see that not a hair on her head be injured. You see, sir, that what I would ask of you would call forth your chivalry and need not shame it; it would call forth your daring and your recklessness of consequences and if you will undertake to do me service in this, my gratitude and that of my friends as well as the sum of 2,000 guilders will be yours to command."
"About a tenth part of the money in fact which your father, sir, doth oft give for a bulb."
"Call it 3,000, sir," said Nicolaes Beresteyn, "we would still be your debtors."
"You are liberal, sir."
"It means my life and that of my friends, and most of us are rich."
"But the lady — I must know more about her. Ah sir! this is a hard matter for me — A lady — young — presumably fair — of a truth I care naught for women, but please God I have never hurt a woman yet."
"Who spoke of hurting her, man?" queried Nicolaes haughtily.
"This abduction — the State secret — the matter of life and death — the faithful dependent — how do I know, sir, that all this is true?"
"On the word of honour of a gentleman!" retorted Beresteyn hotly.
"A gentleman's honour is easily attenuated where a woman is concerned."
"The lady is my own sister, sir."
Diogenes gave a long, low whistle.
"Your sister!" he exclaimed.
"My only sister and one who is dearly loved. You see, sir, that her safety
