About ten o’clock, after long contemplation at the window, and after being rewarded by nothing more exciting than the sight of a vast flock of geese sweeping its hissing, honking way along before the skilful snapping of the whip of the blue-kerchiefed goose girl, the prisoner turned wearily back to the table, sat himself and began turning a Seneca’s _De Clementia_ which his captors had thoughtfully allowed him. The prisoner was exceeding quiet, and beyond possibly a certain hectic flush betrayed no signs of his occasional insanity, at least so his guardian Jan Praet may well have cogitated. From the Weinstube below came a drinking song, indicating how Jan’s three companions were whiling the time away. It is certain he found watching the prisoner a tedious duty and allowed his thoughts and gaze to wander. About half past ten one of the inn servitors came into the room, alleging he must fill the water jugs. Immediately he called attention to what Jan had not noticed before, that the hand of the clock was sadly broken and ready to fall off, a fact which (asserted the varlet) would make the landlord exceeding angry, and likely to visit his wrath upon the unlucky speaker as being careless. Jan was sympathetic. The injury was such as a skilful tinker could mend in only a few moments. Was there such a man about the inn? Jan professed himself a stranger. The other declared that he believed there seemed to be a clever fellow in the company “of the other great folk who came yesterday.” He might be approached by means of an extra seidel filched from the keg room. Would Jan object if some one came at once to mend the clock? It would save the poor varlet at the least from a beating. Jan hesitated. The lady had clearly ordered it, ‘no one in the room with this prisoner except the inn servants, and then only for a moment.’ Still what harm would it do? ‘The poor gentleman was always so melancholy and silent. “Jan would look the other way, if he also had had an extra seidel and the fellow were quick about his business.”’ The varlet went out. The prisoner indeed sat very still. For days now the prisoner had been extremely still. Possibly in his heart he had resolved upon a policy of absolute passivity and non-resistance, until his guardians, convinced that the iron had sunk deep into his soul, should cease to maintain their catlike vigilance. In any case he seemed very intent upon the _De Clementia_. Presently there was another rap upon the door. The question of Jan was answered in very broken German, that ‘here was one who could mend the clock.’ A strange, bent, red-headed man entered, who cast a single sidling glance upon the prisoner, then turned away, leaving the prisoner to stare at him and wonder, “where have I seen those eyes before.” He laid down a few tools and addressed himself to the clock. Jan affected to be interested; “Are you a regular tinker?”