"But he will guess who did it, my Brederode," said Hoogstraaten, "and what kind of exploit will that show in us?"
"Give me the bills," added Montigny, "here is enough for one night."
Hoogstraaten cast his paste pot over the wall of the garden nearest, and Adolphus was glad to end the perilous jest; the night air, the conversation with the Cardinal, had cleared their minds of the fumes of wine and excitement. It had been a dangerous moment while they stood with their backs against the placards on the church door.
"The news of this may reach Madrid," continued Montigny, endeavouring to disarm Brederode of his brush.
"Madrid is a great way off," returned the turbulent Count.
"But Philip has a long arm," said Montigny; he took the rest of the pasquils from Brederode and thrust them into his own doublet, and cast the brush over the wall after the paste pot.
Brederode was inclined to be angry, till two of them passed an arm in his, and the four of them went up the street, the Count shouting a song loudly enough to bring the solitary watch to the street corner as they went by.
They had almost regained Egmont's palace, where Hoogstraaten and Montigny were lodging, when their progress was suddenly interrupted.
A man stepped from a doorway and stood right across the path of the four nobles. Their first thought was of violence, and all of them clapped their hands on their swords, but the fellow threw out his hands to show he was defenceless, and then they noticed that he wore the famous livery—the camlet robe with the hanging sleeves embroidered with the bunch of arrows.
"There is only one of you with his face uncovered," he said, in a low eager voice, "but he is the Seigneur Brederode——"