sober town-councillors who found themselves
baulked of a coveted prize. But this I do not altogether believe; for
the three eavesdroppers had already forgotten more about swearing than
all the burghers of Haarlem put together had ever known.

In the meantime the town councillors had reached the foot of the steps:
here they parted company and there was a marked coldness in the manner
of some of them toward Mynheer Beresteyn, who still pressed his hand
against his doublet, in the inner pocket of which reposed a bit of
dormant vegetation for which he had that same afternoon paid no less a
sum than fifteen thousand florins.

"There goes a lucky devil," said a mocking voice in tones wherein
ripples of laughter struggled for ever for mastery. It came from one of
the three men who had listened to the conversation between the
town-councillors on the subject of tulips and of tulip bulbs.

"To think," he continued, "that I have never even seen as much
as fifteen thousand florins all at once. By St. Bavon himself do
I swear that for the mere handling of so much money I would be
capable of the most heroic deeds ... such as killing my worst
enemy ... or ... or ... knocking that obese and self-complacent
councillor in the stomach."

"Say but the word, good Diogenes," said a gruff voice in response, "the
lucky devil ye speak of need not remain long in possession of that bulb.
He hath name Beresteyn.... I think I know whereabouts he lives ... the
hour is late ... the fog fairly dense in the narrow streets of the
city ... say but the word...."

"There is an honest man I wot of in Amsterdam," broke in a third voice,
one which was curiously high-pitched and dulcet in its tones, "an honest
dealer of Judaic faith, who would gladly give a couple of thousand for
the bulb and ask no impertinent questions."

"Say but the word, Diogenes ..." reiterated the gruff voice solemnly.

"And the bulb is ours," concluded the third speaker in his quaint
high-pitched voice.

"And three philosophers will begin the New Year with more money in their
wallets than they would know what to do with," said he of the

laughter-filled voice. "'Tis a sound scheme, O Pythagoras, and one that
under certain circumstances would certainly commend itself to me. But
just now...."

"Well?" queried the two voices--the gruff and the
high-pitched--simultaneously, like a bassoon and a flute in harmony,
"just now what?"

"Just now, worthy Socrates and wise Pythagoras