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their beaks; you have shaved the chins of more than ten town councillors to-day; you ought to know what is going on in the United Netherlands. Have we captured a silver fleet or something of that sort? The devil! You have a face like a mynheer on the pier when he hears his ship has foundered." They all shouted together, and the barber tried to get away so that his dignified appearance might check their impertinence.

"Holla! stop! that won't do," they cried. "In the Thunderbolt there with a full glass of gin you may know everything as well or better than the Grand Pensioner himself, and you can tell us all about it there; now, brother, show us how much you know, and if any one says you lie we will tan his hide for him till he can't see or hear."

Their clenched fists showed that they meant to keep their promise, but Flyns answered none the more, and tried to get away from his evidently unpleasant surroundings.

"Let him alone," said one; "the chin scraper has always shaved us over a spoon.[1] Why should he be there if he knew any more than we do. He must wait as well as we till they throw us something down."

"Ha, ha!" they all laughed; "good, but you will have to wait too, you see."

"I only wait," said Flyns, "to amuse myself by

  1. Taken us in.