He looked eagerly round through the confusion of twilight, torchlight, and the steadier gleam of lantern, and presently noticed a gentleman in a violet mantle making a slow way through a group of burghers gathering round the open door of a tavern.
Van Mander forced himself as near as he could get—not near enough to be sure.…
Finally the violet cavalier turned down the Houtestraat, with Florent not far behind.
It was less crowded here, and by the time they had reached the Kalvermarkt Van Mander had his man clear. But suddenly the gentleman in violet stopped to ask his way of a man seated outside a grocery shop, and upon receiving the answer turned so quickly down an ill-lit side street that Florent lost sight of him.
Breaking into a run, he plunged down the dark turning, his spurs clattering on the cobbles.
The street was almost empty, the houses dark; for the inhabitants were gathered in the principal thoroughfares.
Florent was brought to a stop in a lonely little square planted with chestnut trees. He looked up and saw an orange flag projected from a gabled window, from which issued the ruddy light of a lamp that stained the folds to a deep brilliance against the purple colour of the evening sky.
At the door of this house stood an old man in a white ruff, smoking.
Florent addressed him.
“Has a gentleman wearing violet been past here, Mynheer?”