The other began to grow suspicious.
“What did you want with him?”
Florent did not hesitate.
“I am a servant of his—at least, if it be he whom I think—and am come after him with a message.”
“Well,” said the old man, “he was not tall nor stout—he was young and thin, with a hooked nose like his Highness the Stadtholder has——”
“Then he is my master,” said Florent, and hurried on.
As he turned the length of the dark canal he saw by the light of the lamps with which it was set the violet mantle not far away from him.
Its owner appeared to be hesitating, and endeavouring to distinguish the signs displayed on the tall house-fronts.
Van Mander, rather breathless, ran up to him; there was no one else in sight.
“Your Highness——”