IN THE HANDS OF THE BLOOD COUNCIL
"You are an evil looking pair of scoundrels," Ned said to himself
as he looked after the retreating figures of the two men. "The
master I truly know by name as one of the worst instruments of the
tyrant; as to the man, knave is written on his face. He is as thin
as a scarecrow--he has a villainous squint and an evil smile
on his face. If I had been bent on any other errand I would have
given very different answers, and taken my chance of holding my own
with this good stick of mine. At any rate I told them no absolute
lies. The councillor will not have a chance of asking me any more
questions this evening, and I only hope that he will be too busy
to think any more about it. I will take the road through Ghent; it
matters little which way I go, for the two roads seem to me to be
of nearly equal distance."
He therefore at once left the road he was following, and struck
across the fields northward until he came upon the road to Ghent,
at which town he arrived soon after noon, having walked two or
three and twenty miles. Fearing to be questioned he passed through
the town without stopping, crossed the Scheldt and continued his way
for another five miles, when he stopped at the village of Gontere.
He entered a small inn.
"I wish to stop here for the night," he said, "if you have room?"
"Room enough and to spare," the host replied. "There is no scarcity
of rooms, though there is of good fare; a party of soldiers from
Ghent paid a visit to us yesterday, and have scarce left a thing
to eat in the village. However, I suppose we ought to feel thankful
that they did not take our lives also."
"Peter," a shrill voice cried from inside the house, "how often have
I told you not to be gossiping on public affairs with strangers?
Your tongue will cost you your head presently, as I have told you
a score of times."
"Near a hundred I should say, wife," the innkeeper replied. "I am
speaking no treason, but am only explaining why our larder is empty,
save some black bread, and some pig's flesh we bought an hour ago;
besides, this youth is scarce likely to be one of the duke's spies."
"There you are again," the woman cried angrily. "You want to leave
me a widow, and your children fatherless, Peter Grantz. Was a woman
ever tormented with such a man?"
"I am not so sure that it is not the other way," the man grumbled
in an undertone. "Why, wife," he went on, raising his voice, "who
is there to say anything against us. Don't I go regularly to mass,
and send our good priest a fine fish or the best cut off the joint
two or three times a week? What can I do more? Anyone would think
to hear you talk that I was a heretic."
"I think you are more fool than heretic," his wife said angrily;
"and that is the best hope for us. But come in, boy, and sit down;
my husband will keep you gossiping at the door for the next hour
if you would listen to him."
"I shall not be sorry to sit down, mistress," Ned said entering
the low roofed room. "I have walked from Axel since morning."
"That is a good long walk truly;" the woman said. "Are you going
on to Brussels? If so, your nearest way would have been by Antwerp."
"I took the wrong road," Ned said; "and as they told me that there
was but a mile or two difference between them, I thought I might
as well keep on the one I had first taken."
"You are from Holland, are you not, by your speech?" the woman
asked.
"Yes; I have come from Holland," Ned replied.
"And is it true what they say, that the people there have thrown
off the authority of the duke, and are going to venture themselves
against all the strength of Spain?"
"Some have risen and some have not," Ned replied. "None can say
what will come of it."
"You had best not say much about your coming from Holland," the
woman said; "for they say that well nigh all from that province are
heretics, and to be even suspected of being a heretic in Brabant
is enough to cost anyone his life."
"I am not one to talk," Ned replied; "but I thank you for your
caution, mistress. I have been questioned already by Philip Von
Aert, and he said he would see me again; but in truth I have no
intention of further intruding on him."
"He is one of the Council of Blood," the woman said, dropping her
voice and looking round anxiously; "and one of the most cruel of
them. Beware, my lad, how you fall into his hands, for be assured
he will show you no mercy, if he has reason to suspect, but in
the slightest, that you are not a good Catholic and loyal to the
Spaniards. Rich or poor, gentle or simple, woman or child, it is
nought to him. There is no mercy for heretics, whomsoever they may
be; and unless you can satisfy him thoroughly your best plan is to
go back at once to Axel, and to cross to Holland. You do not know
what they are. There are spies in every town and village, and were
it known what I have said to you now, little though that be, it
would go hard with me. Women have been burned or strangled for far
less."
"I will be careful," Ned said. "I have business which takes me to
Brussels, but when that is discharged I shall betake me back to
Holland as soon as I can."
By this time the woman, who had been standing over the fire while
she was talking, had roasted two or three slices of pork, and these,
with a piece of black bread and a jug of ale, she placed before
Ned.
Her husband, who had been standing at the door, now came in.
"You are no wiser than I am, wife, with all your scolding. I have
been listening to your talk; you have scolded me whenever I open
my lips, and there you yourself say things ten times as dangerous."
"I say them inside the house, Peter Grantz," she retorted, "and
don't stand talking at the door so that all the village may hear
me. The lad is honest, as I can see by his face, and if I could do
aught for him I would do so."
"I should be glad if you could tell me of some little place where
I could put up in Brussels; some place where I could stay while
looking out for work, without anyone troubling themselves as
to whence I came or where I am going, or what are my views as to
religion or politics."
"That were a difficult matter," the woman replied. "It is not that
the landlords care what party those who visit their house belong
to, but that for aught they know there may be spies in their own
household; and in these days it is dangerous even to give shelter
to one of the new religion. Therefore, although landlords may care
nothing who frequent their houses, they are in a way forced to
do so lest they themselves should be denounced as harbourers of
heretics. Brussels has a strong party opposed to the duke; for you
know that it is not those of the new religion only who would gladly
see the last of the Spaniards. There are but few heretics in Brabant
now, the Inquisition and the Council of Blood have made an end of
most, others have fled either to France, or England, or Holland,
some have outwardly conformed to the rites of the Church, and
there are few indeed who remain openly separated from her, though
in their hearts they may remain heretics as before.
"Still there are great numbers who long to see the old Constitution
restored--to see persecution abolished, the German and Spanish
troops sent packing, and to be ruled by our own laws under the
viceroy of the King of Spain. Therefore in Brussels you are not
likely to be very closely questioned. There are great numbers of
officials, a small garrison, and a good many spies; all of these
are for the duke, the rest of the population would rise tomorrow
did they see a chance of success. I should say that you are more
likely, being a stranger, of being suspected of being a spy than
of being a heretic--that is if you are one, which I do not ask
and do not want to know. The people of Brussels are not given to
tumults as are those of Antwerp and Ghent, but are a quiet people
going their own way. Being the capital there are more strangers
resort there than to other places, and therefore people come and go
without inquiry; still were I you I would, if you have any good
reason for avoiding notice, prefer to lodge outside the city,
entering the gates of a morning, doing what business you may have
during the day, and leaving again before sunset. That way you would
altogether avoid questionings, and will attract no more attention
than other country people going in to sell their goods."
"Thank you, I will follow your advice," Ned said. "I have no wish
to get into trouble, and being a stranger there I should have
difficulty in proving that my story is a true one were I questioned."
The next morning Ned set out at daybreak, and arrived at Brussels
early in the afternoon. He had determined to adopt the advice given
him the evening before; and also that he would not endeavour to
get a lodging in any of the villages.
"It will not take me more than a day, or at most two days, to
deliver my letters," he thought to himself, "and there will be no
hardship in sleeping in the fields or under a tree for a couple of
nights. In that way I shall escape all notice, for people talk in
villages even more than they do in towns." He had decided that he
would not that day endeavour to deliver any of the letters, but
would content himself with walking about the town and learning
the names of the streets, so that he could set about delivering
the letters without the necessity for asking many questions. When
within half a mile of the town he left the road, and cutting open
the lining of his jerkin took out the letters. Then he cut up a
square piece of turf with his knife, scooped out a little earth,
inserted the packet of letters, and then stamped down the sod
above it. In another hole close to it he buried the money hidden in
his boot, and then returning to the road walked on into Brussels,
feeling much more comfortable now that he had for a time got rid of
documents that would cost him his life, were they found upon him.
Passing through the gates, he wandered about for some hours through
the streets, interested in the stir and bustle that prevailed.
Mingled with the grave citizens were Spanish and German soldiers,
nobles with their trains of pages and followers, deputies from other
towns of Brabant and Artois, monks and priests, country people who
had brought in their produce, councillors and statesmen, Spanish
nobles and whining mendicants. He learnt the names of many of the
streets, and marked the houses of those for whom he had letters.
Some of these were nobles, others citizens of Brussels. He bought
some bread and cheese in the marketplace, and ate them sitting
on a doorstep; and having tied some food in a bundle to serve for
supper, he left the town well satisfied with his discoveries.
He slept under the shelter of a haystack, and in the morning dug up
the packet, sewed it up in its hiding place again, and re-entered
the city as soon as the gates were opened, going in with a number
of market people who had congregated there awaiting the opening of
the gates. In a very short time the shops were all opened; for if
the people went to bed early, they were also astir early in those
days. He went first towards the house of one of the burghers, and
watched until he saw the man himself appear at the doorway of his
shop; then he walked across the street.
"The weather is clear," he said, "but the sun is nigh hidden with
clouds."
The burgher gave a slight start; then Ned went on:
"I have brought you tidings from the farm."
"Come in," the burgher said in loud tones, so that he could be
heard by his two assistants in the shop. "My wife will be glad to
hear tidings of her old nurse, who was ill when she last heard from
her. You can reassure her in that respect, I hope?"
"Yes, she is mending fast," Ned replied, as he followed the burgher
through the shop.
The man led the way upstairs, and then into a small sitting room.
He closed the door behind him.
"Now," he asked, "what message do you bring from Holland?"
"I bring a letter," Ned replied; and taking out his knife again
he cut the threads of the lining and produced the packet. The silk
that bound it, and which was fastened by the prince's seal, was
so arranged that it could be slipped off, and so enable the packet
to be opened without breaking the seal. Ned took out the letters;
and after examining the marks on the corners, handed one to the
burgher. The latter opened and read the contents.
"I am told," he said when he had finished, "not to give you an
answer in writing, but to deliver it by word of mouth. Tell the
prince that I have sounded many of my guild, and that certainly
the greater part of the weavers will rise and join in expelling
the Spaniards whenever a general rising has been determined upon;
and it is certain that all the other chief towns will join in the
movement. Unless it is general, I fear that nothing can be done.
So great is the consternation that has been caused by the sack of
Mechlin, the slaughter of thousands of the citizens, and the horrible
atrocities upon the women, that no city alone will dare to provoke
the vengeance of Alva. All must rise or none will do so. I am convinced
that Brussels will do her part, if others do theirs; although, as
the capital, it is upon her the first brunt of the Spanish attack
will fall. In regard to money, tell him that at present none can
be collected. In the first place, we are all well nigh ruined by
the exactions of the Spanish; and in the next, however well disposed
we may be, there are few who would commit themselves by subscribing
for the cause until the revolt is general and successful. Then, I
doubt not, that the councillors would vote as large a subsidy as
the city could afford to pay. Four at least of the members of the
council of our guild can be thoroughly relied upon, and the prince
can safely communicate with them. These are Gunther, Barneveldt,
Hasselaer, and Buys."
"Please, repeat them again," Ned said, "in order that I may be sure
to remember them rightly."
"As to general toleration," the burgher went on, after repeating the
names, "in matters of religion, although there are many differences
of opinion, I think that the prince's commands on this head will
be complied with, and that it would be agreed that Lutherans,
Calvinists, and other sects will be allowed to assemble for worship
without hindrance; but the Catholic feeling is very strong, especially
among the nobles, and the numbers of those secretly inclined to the
new religion has decreased greatly in the past few years, just as
they have increased in Holland and Zeeland, where, as I hear, the
people are now well nigh all Protestants. Please assure the prince
of my devotion to him personally, and that I shall do my best to
further his plans, and can promise him that the Guild of Weavers
will be among the first to rise against the tyranny of the Spaniards."
Ned, as he left the house, decided that the man he had visited was
not one of those who would be of any great use in an emergency. He
was evidently well enough disposed to the cause, but was not one
to take any great risks, or to join openly in the movement unless
convinced that success was assured for it. He was walking along,
thinking the matter over, when he was suddenly and roughly accosted.
Looking up he saw the Councillor Von Aert and his clerk; the former
with an angry look on his face, the latter, who was close beside
his master, and who had evidently drawn his attention to him, with
a malicious grin of satisfaction.
"Hullo, sirrah," the councillor said angrily, "did I not tell you
to call upon me at Antwerp?"
Ned took off his hat, and said humbly, "I should of course have
obeyed your worship's order had I passed through Antwerp; but I
afterwards remembered that I had cause to pass through Ghent, and
therefore took that road, knowing well that one so insignificant as
myself could have nothing to tell your worship that should occupy
your valuable time."
"That we will see about," the councillor said grimly. "Genet, lay
your hand upon this young fellow's collar. We will lodge him in
safe keeping, and inquire into the matter when we have leisure. I
doubt not that you were right when you told me that you suspected
he was other than he seemed."
Ned glanced round; a group of Spanish soldiers were standing close
by, and he saw that an attempt at escape would be hopeless. He
therefore walked quietly along by the side of the clerk's horse,
determining to wrest himself from the man's hold and run for it
the instant he saw an opportunity. Unfortunately, however, he was
unaware that they were at the moment within fifty yards of the
prison. Several bystanders who had heard the conversation followed
to see the result; and other passersby, seeing Ned led by the collar
behind the dreaded councillor, speedily gathered around with looks
expressing no goodwill to Von Aert.
The Spanish soldiers, however, accustomed to frays with the
townspeople, at once drew their weapons and closed round the clerk
and his captive, and two minutes later they arrived at the door of
the prison, and Ned, completely taken by surprise, found himself
thrust in and the door closed behind him before he had time to
decide upon his best course.
"You will place this prisoner in a secure place," the councillor
said. "It is a case of grave suspicion; and I will myself question
him later on. Keep an eye upon him until I come again."
Ned was handed over to two warders, who conducted him to a chamber
in the third storey. Here, to his dismay, one of his jailers took
up his post, while the other retired, locking the door behind him.
Thus the intention Ned had formed as he ascended the stairs of
destroying the documents as soon as he was alone, was frustrated.
The warder took his place at the window, which looked into an
inner court of the prison, and putting his head out entered into
conversation with some of his comrades in the yard below.
Ned regretted now that he had, before leaving the burgher, again
sewn up the letters in his doublet. Had he carried them loosely
about him, he could have chewed them up one by one and swallowed
them; but he dared not attempt to get at them now, as his warder
might at any moment look round. The latter was relieved twice during
the course of the day. None of the men paid any attention to the
prisoner. The succession of victims who entered the walls of the
prison only to quit them for the gallows was so rapid that they
had no time to concern themselves with their affairs.
Probably the boy was a heretic; but whether or not, if he had
incurred the enmity of Councillor Von Aert, his doom was sealed.
It was late in the evening before a warder appeared at the door,
and said that the councillor was below, and that the prisoner was
to be brought before him. Ned was led by the two men to a chamber
on the ground floor. Here Von Aert, with two of his colleagues,
was seated at a table, the former's clerk standing behind him.
"This is a prisoner I myself made this morning," Von Aert said to
his companions. "I overtook him two miles this side of Axel, and
questioned him. He admitted that he came from Holland; and his
answers were so unsatisfactory that I ordered him strictly to call
upon me at Antwerp, not having time at that moment to question him
further. Instead of obeying, he struck off from the road and took
that through Ghent; and I should have heard no more of him, had I
not by chance encountered him this morning in the street here. Has
he been searched?" he asked the warder.
"No, your excellency. You gave no orders that he should be examined."
"Fools!" the councillor said angrily; "this is the way you do your
duty. Had he been the bearer of important correspondence he might
have destroyed it by now."
"We have not left him, your excellency. He has never been alone for
a moment, and had no opportunity whatever for destroying anything."
"Well, search that bundle first," the councillor said.
The bundle was found to contain nothing suspicious.
"Now, take off his doublet and boots and examine them carefully.
Let not a seam or corner escape you."
Accustomed to the work, one of the warders had scarcely taken the
doublet in his hand when he proclaimed that there was a parcel sewn
up in the lining.
"I thought so!" Von Aert exclaimed, beaming with satisfaction at
his own perspicacity. "I thought there was something suspicious
about the fellow. I believe I can almost smell out a heretic or a
traitor."
The councillor's colleagues murmured their admiration at his
acuteness.
"What have we here?" Von Aert went on, as he examined the packet.
"A sealed parcel addressed 'To the Blue Cap in the South Corner of
the Market Square of Brussels.' What think you of that, my friends,
for mystery and treason? Now, let us see the contents. Ah, ten
letters without addresses! But I see there are marks different from
each other on the corners. Ah!" he went on with growing excitement,
as he tore one open and glanced at the contents, "from the arch
traitor himself to conspirators here in Brussels. This is an important
capture indeed. Now, sirrah, what have you to say to this? For whom
are these letters intended?"
"I know nothing of the contents of the letters, worshipful sir,"
Ned said, falling on his knees and assuming an appearance of abject
terror. "They were delivered to me at Haarlem, and I was told that
I should have five nobles if I carried them to Brussels and delivered
them safely to a man who would meet me in the south corner of the
Market Square of Brussels. I was to hold the packet in my hand and
sling my bundle upon my stick, so that he might know me. He was to
have a blue cap on, and was to touch me on the shoulder and ask me
'How blows the wind in Holland?' and that, worshipful sir, is all
I know about it. I could not tell that there was any treason in the
business, else not for fifty nobles would I have undertaken it."
"You lie, you young villain!" the councillor shouted. "Do you
try to persuade me that the Prince of Orange would have intrusted
documents of such importance to the first boy he met in the street?
In the first place you must be a heretic."
"I don't know about heretics," Ned said, rising to his feet and
speaking stubbornly. "I am of the religion my father taught me,
and I would not pretend that I was a Catholic, not to save my life."
"There you are, you see," the councillor said triumphantly to his
colleagues. "Look at the obstinacy and insolence of these Hollanders.
Even this brat of a boy dares to tell us that he is not a Catholic.
Take him away," he said to the warder, "and see that he is securely
kept. We may want to question him again; but in any case he will
go to the gallows tomorrow or next day."
Ned was at once led away.
"What think you?" Von Aert asked his colleagues as the door closed
behind the prisoner. "Is it worth while to apply the torture to him
at once to obtain from him the names of those for whom these letters
were intended? It is most important for us to know. Look at this
letter; it is from the prince himself, and refers to preparations
making for a general rising."
"I should hardly think the boy would have been intrusted with so
important a secret," one of the other councillors said; "for it
would be well known he would be forced by torture to reveal it if
these letters were to be found upon him. I think that the story he
tells us is a true one, and that it is more likely they would be
given him to deliver to some person who would possess the key to
these marks on the letters."
"Well, at any rate no harm can be done by applying the screws," the
councillor said. "If he knows they will make him speak, I warrant
you."
The other two agreed.
"If you will allow me to suggest, your excellency," Genet said
humbly, "that it might be the better way to try first if any such
as this Blue Cap exists. The boy might be promised his life if he
could prove that the story was true. Doubtless there is some fixed
hour at which he was to meet this Blue Cap. We might let him go to
meet him, keeping of course a strict watch over him. Then if any
such man appears and speaks to him we could pounce upon him at once
and wring from him the key to these marks. If no such man appears
we should then know that the story was but a device to deceive,
and could then obtain by some means the truth from him."
The suggestion met with approval.
"That is a very good plan, and shall be carried out. Send for the
prisoner again."
Ned was brought down again.
"We see that you are young," Von Aert said, "and you have doubtless
been misled in this matter, and knew not that you were carrying
treasonable correspondence. We therefore are disposed to treat
you leniently. At what time were you to meet this Blue Cap in the
market?"
"Within an hour of sunset," Ned replied. "I am to be there at sunset
and to wait for an hour; and was told that he would not fail to
come in that time, but that if he did I was to come again the next
day."
"It is to be hoped that he will not fail you," Von Aert said grimly,
"for we shall not be disposed to wait his pleasure. Tomorrow evening
you will go with a packet and deliver it to the man when he comes
to you. Beware that you do not try to trick us, for you will be
closely watched, and it will be the worse for you if you attempt
treachery. If the man comes those who are there will know how to
deal with him."
"And shall I be at liberty to depart?" Ned asked doubtfully.
"Of course you will," Von Aert replied; "we should then have no
further occasion for you, and you would have proved to us that your
story was a true one, and that you were really in ignorance that
there was any harm in carrying the packet hither."
Ned was perfectly well aware that the councillor was lying, and that
even had he met the man in the blue cap he would be dragged back
to prison and put to death, and that the promise meant absolutely
nothing--the Spaniards having no hesitation in breaking the
most solemn oaths made to heretics. He had, indeed, only asked the
question because he thought that to assent too willingly to the
proposal might arouse suspicion. It was the very thing he had been
hoping for, and which offered the sole prospect of escape from a
death by torture, for it would at least give him the chance of a
dash for freedom.
He had named an hour after sunset partly because it was the hour
which would have been probably chosen by those who wished that the
meeting should take place unobserved, but still more because his
chances of escape would be vastly greater were the attempt made
after dark. The three councillors sat for some time talking over
the matter after Ned had been removed. The letters had all been
read. They had been carefully written, so as to give no information
if they should fall into the wrong hands, and none of them contained
any allusion whatever to past letters or previous negotiations.
"It is clear," Von Aert said, "that this is a conspiracy, and that
those to whom these letters are sent are deeply concerned in it,
and yet these letters do not prove it. Suppose that we either seize
this Blue Cap or get from the boy the names of those for whom the
letters are intended, they could swear on the other hand that they
knew nothing whatever about them, and had been falsely accused. No
doubt many of these people are nobles and citizens of good position,
and if it is merely their word against the word of a boy, and that
wrung from him by torture, our case would not be a strong one."
"Our case is not always strong," one of the other councillors said;
"but that does not often make much difference."
"It makes none with the lower class of the people," Von Aert agreed;
"but when we have to deal with people who have influential friends
it is always best to be able to prove a case completely. I think
that if we get the names of those for whom the letters are meant we
can utilize the boy again. We will send him to deliver the letters
in person, as I believe he was intended to do. He may receive
answers to take back to Holland; but even if he does not the fact
that these people should have received such letters without at once
denouncing the bearer and communicating the contents to us, will
be quite sufficient proof of their guilt."
"In that case," one of the others remarked, "the boy must not be
crippled with the torture."
"There will be no occasion for that," Von Aert said contemptuously.
"A couple of turns with the thumbscrew will suffice to get out of
a boy of that age everything he knows. Well, my friends, we will
meet here tomorrow evening. I shall go round to the Market Square
with Genet to see the result of this affair, in which I own I
am deeply interested; not only because it is most important, but
because it is due to the fact that I myself entertained a suspicion
of the boy that the discovery of the plot has been made. I will
take charge of these letters, which are for the time useless to
us, but which are likely to bring ten men's heads to the block."
As Ned sat alone in his cell during the long hours of the following
day he longed for the time to come when his fate was to be settled.
He was determined that if it lay with him he would not be captured
alive. He would mount to the top story of a house and throw himself
out of a window, or snatch a dagger from one of his guards and
stab himself, if he saw no mode of escape. A thousand times better
to die so than to expire on a gibbet after suffering atrocious
tortures, which would, he knew, wring from him the names of those
for whom the letters were intended.
He could bear pain as well as another; but flesh and blood could not
resist the terrible agonies inflicted by the torture, and sooner
or later the truth would be wrung from the most reluctant lips.
Still he thought that he had a fair chance of escape. It was clear
that he could not be closely surrounded by a guard, for in that
case Blue Cap would not venture near him. He must, therefore, be
allowed a considerable amount of liberty; and, however many men
might be on watch a short distance off, he ought to be able by a
sudden rush to make his way through them. There would at that hour
be numbers of people in the street, and this would add to his chance
of evading his pursuers.
He ate heartily of a meal that was brought him at midday, and when
just at sunset the warder entered the cell and told him to follow
him, he felt equal to any exertion. When he came down into the
courtyard, a dozen men were gathered there, together with Von Aert
and his clerk.
"Now," the councillor said sternly, "you see these men. They will
be round you on all sides, and I warn you that if you attempt to
escape or to give any warning sign to this Blue Cap, or to try any
tricks with us of any sort, you shall be put to death with such
tortures as you never dreamt of. Upon the other hand, if you carry
out my orders faithfully, and hand over this packet to the man
who meets you, you will be at liberty to go straight away, and to
return home without molestation."
"I understand," Ned replied; "and as I cannot help myself, will do
your bidding. Where are my stick and bundle? He will not know me
unless I have them. I am to carry them on my shoulder."
"Ah! I forgot," the councillor said, and giving the order to one
of the warders Ned's bundle and stick were brought him.
"You will stroll leisurely along," Von Aert said, "and appear natural
and unconcerned. We shall be close to you, and you will be seized
in an instant if we observe anything suspicious in your movements."
Von Aert then took a packet from his doublet and handed it to
Ned, who placed it in his belt. The prison door was opened; three
or four of the men went out, and Ned followed. It was a curious
feeling to him as he walked down the street. Round him were numbers
of people laughing and chatting as they went, while he, though
apparently as free as they, was a prisoner with a dozen pair of
eyes watching him, and his life in deadly peril.