There were six of them altogether, and the light from the lamp above illumined their faces, which were stern looking, dark and of set determination. All six of them were young; only one amongst them might have been more than thirty years of age; that a great purpose brought them here to-night was obvious from their attitude, the low murmur of their voices, that air of mystery which hung round them, fostered by the dark cloaks which they held closely wrapped round their shoulders and the shadows from the pillar which they sought. One of them appeared to be the centre of their interest, a man, lean and pallid-looking, with hollow purple-rimmed eyes, that spoke of night vigils or mayhap of unavowed, consuming thoughts. The mouth was hard and thin, and a febrile excitement caused his lips to quiver and his hand to shake. The others hung upon his words. "Tell us some of your adventures, Stoutenburg!" said one of them eagerly. Stoutenburg laughed harshly and mirthlessly. "They would take years in telling," he said, "mayhap one day I'll write them down. They would fill many a volume." "Enough that you did contrive to escape," said another man, "and that you are back here amongst us once more." "Yes! in order to avenge wrongs that are as countless by now as the grains of sand on the sea-shore," rejoined Stoutenburg earnestly. "You know that you are not safe inside Holland," suggested he who had first spoken. "Aye, my good Beresteyn, I know that well enough," said Stoutenburg with a long and bitter sigh. "Your own father would send me to the gallows if he had the chance, and you with me mayhap, for consorting with me." "My father owes his position, his wealth, the prosperity of his enterprise to the Stadtholder," said Beresteyn, speaking with as much bitterness as his friend. "He looked upon the last conspiracy against the life of the Prince of Orange as a crime blacker than the blackest sin that ever deserved hell.... If he thought that I ... at the present moment...." "Yes I know. But he has not the power to make you false to me, has he, Nicolaes?" asked Stoutenburg anxiously. "You are still at one with us?" "With you to the death!" replied Beresteyn fervently, "so are we all." "Aye! that we are," said the four others with one accord, whilst one of them added dryly: "And determined not to fail like the last time by trusting those paid hirelings, who will take your money and betray you for more." "Last February we were beset with bunglers and self-seekers," said Stoutenburg, "my own brother Groeneveld was half-hearted in everything save the desire to make money. Slatius was a vindictive boor, van Dyk was a busy-body and Korenwinder a bloated fool. Well! they have paid their penalty. Heaven have their souls! But for God's sake let us do the work ourselves this time." "They say that the Stadtholder is sick unto death," said one of the men sombrely. "Disease strikes with a surer hand sometimes than doth the poniard of an enemy."