This delay was no great cause of concern to Pan Andrew, however, since an audience was eventually assured. Late in the summer Jan Kanty had sent a petition to the very throne itself, and the King had advised the gentle scholar by message that he would see him at the first opportunity. In the meanwhile the treasure seemed hidden in as safe quarters as Pan Andrew could ask for. It was several hours after Pan Andrew had left his lodgings on the Street of the Pigeons that there came a violent ringing of the bell that summoned Stas. Stas unfastened the door and thrust his lantern directly into the face of the man who stood there, and for his pains was rewarded with a smart blow upon the chin which tumbled him into the soft snow which was now beginning to cover everything. “Don’t do that again as you value your life,” the stranger muttered as he picked up the fallen lantern and straightened the limp Stas upon his feet. “You fool, don’t you know that some one might have seen my face? If some watchman took me, he would as well take you; it is for your safety that no man knows anything of this meeting. Is everything ready?” “Yes,” responded Stas a bit ruefully. “Then tell me, who is in the building?” “Well—there is the lodger on the top floor and his niece, and there is the boy and his mother.” “The students?” “They have gone to a discussion at the Hungarian pension. Sometimes they do not return before daybreak.” “Good I Then we can work without fear. A dozen men will suffice, four to enter the rooms of Pan Andrew, four to quiet the tenants if need be, and four to stand at the gate. If the guard should come, we can silence him.” “Will you see the stairs?” “Yes, they live——” “Up one flight.” They ascended the stairs, Stas in the lead. It seemed to the stranger that the staircase swayed a little beneath their feet. “We must take care here,” he muttered. “It seems as if a weight would bring this down.” Just then a dog began to bark in the court below. “What is that?” demanded the man, turning on Stas. “You did not tell me of a dog.” “He is chained,” replied the other. “Will you give me the gold now?” “Here.” The man thrust him a few coins. He took them greedily and felt them over in the darkness, for the stranger was holding under his coat the lantern that he had picked up from the ground. “This is not all?” Stas’ voice rose to a whine. “Swine!” For a moment the man lost control of himself. “Here is the rest, then,” and he swung his free hand to Stas’ throat, and sank his fingers in the flesh. Stas fought but could not release himself from those fingers that dug like iron points—at length the man freed him.