“Well, wife,” said Pan Andrew when they were alone and the door fastened, “this is better than we dared hope.” Thereupon he laid down upon the table in the large room the precious round parcel which had not left his hands at any time since they had set out from Jan Kanty’s cell. “Best of all we are safe here; the door is heavy, the front of the building is of stone, and from the rear no one could climb over the wall without danger to himself. It is, indeed, the wall of a monastery to which none but monks have access. Above us is the alchemist, Kreutz, and below on the ground floor are the old woman and her son, both of whom take care of the building and watch the gate at night. “Across the way live a few students, one of them this Johann Tring who accompanied us. Those seeking us would never think of looking for us here; the change in name is also a protection. Here we may stay in comfort until such time as we may communicate with the King.” He intended to say more, but was interrupted by a curious sound that came from outside as if a heavy body were dragging itself along. The mother uttered a little cry of fear; Pan Andrew reached for the handle of his short sword, but Joseph broke into a laugh. “It is my dog rubbing against the door,” he said. “He is tired and hungry, and no doubt wants a little water. There is a well in the court below from which I will draw it, and he can sleep then in the shelter of the wall. To-morrow I must procure a chain or rope to fasten him with, for he is nearly wild and might cause trouble if he ran about.” With this Joseph searched in a basket for a bit of meat and a piece of bread, and finding them, descended to the court below. It was dark there but his mother held the lantern above him so that he could see to draw water and settle the dog in a corner of the wall. When they returned his father was preparing for bed. The valuable package had been disposed of somewhere; with curious eyes Joseph scanned every inch of the large room and came to the conclusion that the only hiding place in the quarters was that afforded by the bed, either in the shadowy place beneath it, or somewhere in the bedding or folded clothes beneath the headrests. He ceased to wonder very long about it, however, for his eyelids were heavy, despite his sleep of the afternoon. The whole world drifted off into oblivion, it seemed, the minute that he laid his head on the stuffed bag that served for a pillow.