g which you will do this
night is at least as important as that which you have so bravely
accomplished these past four days. The question is, have you strength
left to do it?"

Indeed the question seemed unnecessary now. At the word "revenge" Jan
had already straightened out his long, lean figure and though traces of
fatigue might still linger in his drawn face, it was obvious that the
spirit within was prepared to fight all bodily weaknesses.

"There is enough strength in me, my lord," he said simply, "to do your
bidding now as always for the welfare of Holland and the triumph of our
faith."

After which Stoutenburg put out the light, and with a final curt word to
Jan and an appeal to Beresteyn he led the way out of the room, down the
stairs and finally into the street.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE BIRTH OF HATE

Here the three men parted; Beresteyn and Jan to go to the "Lame Cow"
where the latter was to begin his work of keeping track of Diogenes, and
Stoutenburg to find his way to that squalid lodging house which was
situate at the bottom of the Kleine Hout Straat where it abuts on the
Oude Gracht.

It had been somewhat impulsively that he had suggested to Beresteyn that
he would endeavour to obtain some information from the Spanish wench as
to Diogenes' plans and movements and the whereabouts of Gilda, and now
that he was alone with more sober thoughts he realised that the
suggestion had not been over-backed by reason. Still as Beresteyn had
said: there could be no harm in seeking out the girl. Stoutenburg was
quite satisfied in his mind that she must be the rascal's sweetheart,
else she had not lent him an helping hand in the abduction of Gilda, and
since he himself was well supplied with money through the generosity of
his rich friends in Haarlem, he had no doubt that if the wench knew
anything at all about the rogue, she could easily be threatened first,
then bribed and cajoled into telling all that she knew.

Luck in this chose to favour the Lord of Stoutenburg, for the girl was
on the doorstep when he finally reached the house where two nights ago a
young soldier of fortune had so generously given up his lodgings to a
miserable pair of beggars. He had just been vaguely wondering how best
he could--without endangering his own safety--obtain information as to
which particular warren in the house she and her father inhabited, when
he saw her standing under the lintel of the door, her meagre figure
faint