Half a minute later two men bearing naked swords in their hands might be seen bursting through the barrier of flaming wood. Out they came safely enough, and there in an open space not far from the gateway, halted back to back, rubbing the water from their smarting eyes. On them, a few seconds later, like hounds on a wounded boar, dashed the mob of soldiers, while from every throat of the hundreds who were watching went up shrill cries of encouragement, grief, and fear. Men fell before them, but others rushed in. They were down, they were up again, once more they were down, and this time only one of them rose, the great man Martin. He staggered to his feet, shaking off the soldiers who tried to hold him, as a dog in the game-pit shakes off rats. He was up, he stood across the body of his companion, and once more that fearful sword was sweeping round, bringing death to all it touched. They drew back, but a soldier, old in war, creeping behind him suddenly threw a cloak over his head. Then the end came, and slowly, very slowly, they overmatched his strength, and bore him down and bound him, while the watching mob groaned and wept with grief. CHAPTER XX IN THE GEVANGENHUIS When Adrian left the factory he ran on to the house in the Bree Straat. “Oh! what has happened?” said his mother as he burst into the room where she and Elsa were at work. “They are coming for him,” he gasped. “The soldiers from the Gevangenhuis. Where is he? Let him escape quickly—my stepfather.” Lysbeth staggered and fell back into her chair. “How do you know?” she asked. At the question Adrian’s head swam and his heart stood still. Yet his lips found a lie. “I overheard it,” he said; “the soldiers are attacking Foy and Martin in the factory, and I heard them say that they were coming here for him.” Elsa moaned aloud, then she turned on him like a tiger, asking: “If so, why did you not stay to help them?” “Because,” he answered with a touch of his old pomposity, “my first duty was towards my mother and you.” “He is out of the house,” broke in Lysbeth in a low voice that was dreadful to hear. “He is out of the house, I know not where. Go, son, and search for him. Swift! Be swift!” So Adrian went forth, not sorry to escape the presence of these tormented women. Here and there he wandered to one haunt of Dirk’s after another, but without success, till at length a noise of tumult drew him, and he ran towards the sound. Presently he was round the corner, and this was what he saw.