such. As for the man ... I want him alive ... do not kill him, Jan, even
if he provoke you. And he will do that by his insolence, I know."

"My lord shall have his enemy alive," said Jan, "a helpless
prisoner ... but alive."

"Then good luck to you, Jan," concluded Stoutenburg with a sigh of
satisfaction. "I am well pleased with you. In the near future I shall be
happy to remember that the high offices of State and those around my
person must be filled by those who have well deserved of them."

He put out his thin, nervy hand and Jan fell on one knee in order to
kiss it with fervour and respect. The son of John of Barneveld could
still count on the loyalty of a few who believed in him, and who looked
on his crimes as a necessary means to a glorious end.

A few moments later Beresteyn and Stoutenburg had disappeared in the
darkness of the narrow street, and Jan remained alone at his post of
observation.

CHAPTER XXVI

BACK TO HOUDEKERK

And now back once more in the kingdom of the night and of the frost, of
the darkness and of silence, back along the ice ways on a swift and
uninterrupted flight.

The moon is less kind now, fitful and coy; she will not peep out from
behind the banks of clouds save at rare intervals; and the clouds are
heavy; great billows, clumsy in shape as if weighted with lead; the moon
plays a restless game of hide and seek amongst them for the bewilderment
of the skater, to whom last night she was so kind.

They come tumbling in more and more thickly from the south--those
clouds--driven more furiously by the gusty wind. Brother north-easter
has gone to rest, it is the turn of the south wind now--not the soft
south wind of summer, but a turbulent and arrogant fellow who bellows as
loudly as he can, and who means to have a frolic in this world of ice
and snow from which his colder brethren have exiled him until now.

Straight at the head of the skater, it expended the brunt of its fury,
sending his hat flying in one direction and in wanton delight leading
him into a mad chase after it; then when once more he was on his
way--hat in hand this time--it tore with impish glee at his hair,
impeded his movements, blew doublet and sash awry.

What a chase! what a fight! what a run! But Dondersteen! we do defy
thee, O frolicsome south wind! aye, and the darkness too! Back to
Houdekerk, the first stage on the road to fortune.

It is not nearly so cold now that brother north-easter has