orth the
close attention of the night watchmen.

Stoutenburg linked his arm in that of Beresteyn.

"Let the others go on ahead," he said confidentially, "you and I,
friend, must understand one another ere we part for this night."

Then as Beresteyn made no immediate reply, he continued calmly:

"This will mean hanging for the lot of us this time, Nicolaes!"

"I pray to God ..." exclaimed the other hoarsely.

"God will have nought to say in the matter, my friend," retorted
Stoutenburg dryly, "'tis only the Stadtholder who will have his say, and
do you think that he is like to pardon...."

"Gilda will never...."

"Oh, yes, she will," broke in Stoutenburg firmly; "be not deluded into
thoughts of security. Gilda will think the whole of this matter over for
four and twenty hours at the longest, after which, feeling herself in an
impasse between her affection for you and her horror of me, she will
think it her duty to tell your father all that she heard in the
cathedral to-night."

"Even then," said Beresteyn, hotly, "my father would not send his only
son to the gallows."

"Do you care to take that risk?" was the other man's calm retort.

"What can I do?"

"You must act decisively and at once, my friend," said Stoutenburg
dryly, "an you do not desire to see your friends marched off to torture
and the scaffold with yourself following in their wake."

"But how? how?" exclaimed Beresteyn.

His was by far the weaker nature of the two: easily led, easily swayed
by a will stronger than his own. Stoutenburg wielded vast influence over
him; he had drawn him into the net of his own ambitious schemes, and had
by promises and cajolery won his entire allegiance. Now that destruction
and death threatened Nicolaes through his own sister--whom he sincerely
loved--he turned instinctively to Stoutenburg for help and for advice.

"It is quite simple," said the latter slowly. "Gilda must be temporarily
made powerless to do us any harm."

"How?" reiterated Beresteyn helplessly.

"Surely you can think of some means yourself," retorted Stoutenburg
somewhat impatiently. "Self-preservation is an efficient sharpener of
wits as a rule, and your own life is in the hands of a woman now, my
friend."

"You seem to forget that that woman is my sister. How can I conspire to
do her bodily harm?"

"Who spake of bodily harm, you simpleton?" quoth Stoutenburg with a
harsh laugh, "'tis you who seem to forget that if Gilda is your sister