is not aware of the nature and importance of the deposit which I have entrusted to him.”
“Quick then,” cried John, “as there is still time, let us convey to him directions to burn the parcel.”
“Through whom?”
“Through my servant Craeke, who was to have accompanied us on horseback, and who has entered the prison with me, to assist you downstairs.”
“Consider well before having those precious documents burnt, John!”
“I consider, above all things, that the brothers De Witte must necessarily save their lives, to be able to save their character. If we are dead, who will defend us? Who will have fully understood our intentions?”
“You expect, then, that they would kill us if those papers were found?”
John, without answering, pointed with his hand to the square, whence, at that very moment, fierce shouts and savage yells made themselves heard.
“Yes, yes,” said Cornelius, “I hear these shouts very plainly, but what is their meaning?”
John opened the window.
“Death to the traitors!” howled the populace.
“Do you hear now, Cornelius?”
“To the traitors! that means us!” said the prisoner, raising his eyes to heaven and shrugging his shoulders.
“Yes, it means us,” repeated John.
“Where is Craeke?”
“At the door of your cell, I suppose.”
“Let him enter then.”
John opened the door; the faithful servant was waiting on the threshold.
“Come in, Craeke, and mind well what my brother will tell you.”
“No, John; it will not suffice to send a verbal message; unfortunately, I shall be obliged to write.”
