The sun is well up in the heavens when Guy opens his eyes. In contrast to the night before, the gale has died away and the sun is shining brightly as if to mock the farmers and peasants of the surrounding fields and polders, whose cattle are still drowning or starving, for the flood gives no signs of receding. A little of this Chester can see as he makes hasty toilet; looking from his window he gets a glimpse of the river, which is still at its height, and upon whose bosom still float the carcasses of drowned sheep, cattle, hogs, and even human beings. But the city seems now to pay little heed to this. The gale has gone down, ships are preparing to sail out of the Schelde for the Indies and the Mediterranean; the merchants have removed their wares to places of safety; mediæval commerce stops no more its battle of trade and bargain, for the disasters of humanity—than that of to-day. The hum of traffic comes floating up to Guy from the neighboring Shoemarket and Egg streets. All the guilds of Antwerp are at work this day, and seemingly happy, save that of the Butchers, which has lost many fat beeves that have been pastured on the great meadows running out to the big Kowenstyn dyke. As it is late in the morning most of those who have occupied the surrounding cots during the night have departed on their way. Consequently Guy, having, after the manner of sailors, slept ready to go on deck, slips on doublet and cloak uninterrupted save by the snores of a toper who is still in drunken slumber. Then going down to the wash-room of the house, upon the lower floor, the Englishman makes hasty ablution, succeeding by the bribe of a stiver in obtaining an unused towel for the purpose. This being done, and feeling very bright, vivacious and cheery, notwithstanding he catches glimpses of the placard in the wine room offering a reward for his head, Chester passes out and makes his way rapidly through the dirty alleys of the lower portion of the town to Wool street. Remembering his unsuccessful inquiries at the Bodé Volcker mansion, the Englishman has concluded that he will see if he can obtain further information from the French blood-letter and barber about the arrival of his lodger. For speed is vital to the business that has brought Guy into the clutches of his enemies, and every moment that he stays in the town of Antwerp adds to his danger of recognition and arrest; too many Flemish traders from Zeeland and the islands of Holland journey to this great commercial city, some of these know the “First of the English” quite well by sight, and a few of them, for three thousand carolus guilders would sell anything upon earth, including themselves. Arriving at the barber’s pole of Jacques Touraine, Chester receives a pleasant surprise. The voluble little Frenchman darts out to meet him, crying: “He is anxious for you; I told him you had asked for him!” “He—who?” gasps Guy.