II + 

Thus it was that Socrates happened to be on the spot, or very near it, when Diogenes was struck by the hand of a traitor, and, wearied, sick, and faint, lost his footing and fell for a moment helpless against the steps, whilst Nicolaes Beresteyn dug his spurs into his horse’s sides and urged the Stadtholder to immediate haste. + 

A second or two later these two were lost to sight in the crowd. It was Socrates who received his half-swooning friend in his arms, and who dragged him incontinently into the recess formed by the side of the stone steps and the wall of the burgomaster’s house. + 

By great good fortune, the dagger-thrust aimed by the abominable miscreant had lost most of its virulence in the thick folds of Diogenes’ cloak. The result was just a flesh wound in the neck, nothing that would cause so hardened a soldier more than slight discomfort. His scarf, tied tightly around his shoulders by Socrates’ rough, but experienced hands, was all that was needed for the moment. It had only been fatigue, and perhaps the unexpectedness of the onslaught, that had brought him to his knees for that brief second, and rendered him momentarily helpless. Time enough, by mischance for Nicolaes to drag the Stadtholder finally out of sight. + 

But by the time Diogenes’ faithful comrade had found shelter for him in the angle of the wall the feeling of sickness had passed away. + 

“The Stadtholder,” he queried abruptly, “where is he?” + 

“Gone!” Socrates grunted through clenched teeth. “Gone, together with that spawn of the devil who⁠—” + 

“After him!” Diogenes commanded, speaking once more with that perfect quietude which is the attribute of men of action at moments of acute peril. “Get me a horse, man! Mine is spent.” + 

“In the marketplace,” Socrates responded laconically. “Pythagoras is in charge. You can have the beast, and we’ll follow.” Then he added, under his breath: “And the jongejuffrouw? She was so anxious⁠—” + 

Diogenes made no reply, gave one look up at the house which contained all that for him was dearest on God’s earth. But he did not sigh. I think the longing and the disappointment were too keen even for that. The next moment he had already started to push his way through the throng along the quay, and thence into Vriese Straat in the direction of the marketplace, closely followed by his long-legged familiar. + 

As soon as the Groote Market lay open before him, his sharp eyes searched the crowd for a sight of the Stadtholder’s plumed bonnet. Soon he spied his Highness right across the place, with Nicolaes riding close to his stirrup. + 

The two horsemen were then tending toward Joris Laan, which leads straight to the poort. + 

At that end of the markt the crowd was much less dense, and Joris Laan beyond appeared practically deserted. It was, you must remember, from that side that the enemy would descend upon the city when he came, and the moving throng, if viewed from a height, would now have looked like a column of smoke when it is all blown one way by the wind. Already the Stadtholder and Nicolaes had been free to put their horses to a trot. Another moment and they would be galloping down Joris Laan, which is but three hundred yards from the poort. + 

“Oh, God, grant me wings!” Diogenes muttered, between his teeth. + 

“What are you going to do?” Socrates asked. + 

“Prevent the Stadtholder from falling into an abominable trap, if I can,” the other replied briefly. + 

Socrates pointed to the distant corner of the markt, where Pythagoras could be dimly perceived waiting patiently beside three horses. + 

“I see the ruffian has stolen a horse,” he said. “So long as it is a fresh one⁠—” + 

“I shall need it.” Diogenes remarked simply. + 

“I told him only to get the best, but you can’t trust that loon since good fortune hath made him honest.” + 

The next few seconds brought them to the spot. Pythagoras hailed them with delight. He was getting tired of waiting. Three horses, obviously fresh and furnished with excellent saddlery, were here ready. Even Socrates had a word of praise for his fat compeer’s choice. + 

“Where did you get him from?” he queried, indicating the mount which Diogenes had without demur selected for himself. + 

Pythagoras shrugged his shoulder. What did it matter who had been made the poorer by a good horse? Enough that it was here now, ready to do service to the finest horseman in the Netherlands. Already Diogenes had swung himself into the saddle, and now he turned his horse toward Nieuwpoort. + 

“Where do we go?” the others cried. + 

“After me!” he shouted in reply. + 