umber of men and women
furtively gaining admittance: they looked uncommonly like Papists and
the postern gate not unlike a Romanist chapel door."

"Then there undoubtedly will be a row," said Socrates dryly.

"And we are no longer likely to find the place dull," concluded
Pythagoras in a flute-like voice.

And the three men pulling their plumed hats well over their eyes, turned
off without hesitation in the wake of their leader. They had by tacit
understanding unsheathed their swords and were carrying them under the
folds of their mantles. They walked in single file, for the street was
very narrow, the gabled roofs almost meeting overhead at their apex,
their firm footsteps made no sound on the thick carpet of snow. The
street was quite deserted and the confused tumult in the Dam Straat only
came now as a faint and distant echo.

Thus walking with rapid strides the three men soon found themselves once
more close to the cathedral: it loomed out of the fog on their left and
the cries and the laughter on ahead sounded once more clear and shrill.

The words "for the love of Christ!" could be easily distinguished;
uttered pleadingly at intervals and by a woman's voice they sounded
ominous, more especially as they were invariably followed by cries of
"Spaniards! Spies! Papists!" and a renewal of loud and ribald laughter.

The leader of the little party had paused once more, his long legs
evidently carried him away faster than he intended: now he turned to his
friends and pointed with his hand and sword on ahead.

"Now, wise Pythagoras," he said, "wilt thou not have enjoyment and to
spare this night? Thou didst shower curses on this fog-ridden country,
and call it insufferably dull. Lo! what a pleasing picture doth present
itself to our gaze."

Whether the picture was pleasing or not depended entirely from the point
of view of spectator or participant. Certes it was animated and moving
and picturesque; and as three pairs of eyes beneath three broad-brimmed
hats took in its several details, three muffled figures uttered three
simultaneous gurgles of anticipated pleasure.

In the fog that hung thickly in the narrow street it was at first
difficult to distinguish exactly what was going on. Certain it is that a
fairly dense crowd, which swelled visibly every moment as idlers joined
in from many sides, had congregated at the corner of Dam Straat, there
where a couple of resin torches fixed in iron brackets against a tall