in all monetary transactions with the
Jew. He keeps these formal documents in his archives and all his clients
use a cypher in the same way."

"How is that formal order worded?"

"As far as I remember it runs thus: 'In consideration of valuable
services rendered to me by the bearer of this note, I desire you to pay
him the sum of 3,000 guilders out of my monies which lie with you at
interest.' The cypher signature consists of the words 'Schwarzer Kato'
surmounted by a triangle."

"And is that cypher known to anyone save to Ben Isaje?"

"Alas! it is known to my father. We both use it for private business
transactions."

"But to Gilda?" insisted Stoutenburg. "Would Gilda know it if she saw
it?"

"She could not be certain of it ... though, of course, she might guess.
'Schwarzer Kato' is the name of a tulip raised by my father, and the
triangle is a sign used sometimes by our house in business. But it would
be mere conjecture on her part."

"Then everything will still be for the best, never fear, my good
Beresteyn," exclaimed Stoutenburg, whose hard, cruel face was glowing
with excitement. "Chance indeed has been on our side throughout this
business. An you will trust me to finish it now; you'll have no cause
for anxiety or regrets. Come! let us find Jan at once! I have a few
orders to give him, and then mean to be on my way to Ryswyk to-night."

He rose to his feet and now the glitter in his hollow eyes appeared
almost inhuman. He was a man whose whole soul fed upon hatred, upon
vengeance planned and accomplished, upon desire for supreme power; and
at this moment his scheme for murdering the Stadtholder was backed by
one for obtaining possession of the woman he loved, and being revenged
on the man who had insulted and jeered at him.

Beresteyn, always ready to accept the leadership of his friend, followed
him in silence down the street. After awhile they once more came upon
Jan, who apparently had never moved all this while from his post of
observation.

"Well?" asked Stoutenburg in a scarce audible whisper, "has he not gone
yet?"

"Not yet," replied Jan.

Stoutenburg cast a quick, almost furtive glance in the direction of the
house where he had experienced such dire humiliation a brief half hour
ago. A curious whistling sound escaped through his clenched teeth, a
sound such as many a wild beast makes when expectant of prey. Then he
drew Jan further away from the house, fearful lest his words were wafted