“Yes, M. Fagel, I have.”

The Secretary caught at the tassels of the blue dressing-gown.

“From de Ruyter?”

“No—I have heard nothing from him.”

“From the Prince?” M. Fagel’s voice came somewhat hoarsely.

“No—my news is from Maestricht—from the Rhyngrave.”

De Witt raised his head sharply as he spoke and regarded the other man.

Across the wavering lights and shadows their eyes met.

“Well?” demanded M. Fagel.