held, Baerle went to the fire-place, knelt down, and stirred with the tip of his finger the ashes, which fortunately were quite cold.
He at once felt the other bulb.
“Well, here it is,” he said. And looking at it with almost fatherly affection, he exclaimed, “Uninjured, as the first!”
At this very instant, and whilst Cornelius, still on his knees, was examining his pets, the door of the dry-room was so violently shaken, and opened in such a brusque manner, that Cornelius felt rising in his cheeks and his ears the glow of that evil counsellor which is called wrath.
“Now what is it again,” he demanded; “are people going mad here?”
“Oh, sir! Sir!” cried the servant, rushing into the dry-room, with a much paler face, and with much more frightened mien, than Craeke had shown.
“Well!” asked Cornelius, foreboding some mischief from this double breach of the strict rule of his house.
“Oh, sir, fly! fly, quick!” cried the servant.
“Fly! and what for?”
“Sir, the house is full of the guards of the States.”
“What do they want?”
“They want you.”
“What for?”
“To arrest you.”
“Arrest me? arrest me, do you say?”
“Yes, Sir, and they are headed by a magistrate.”
“What’s the meaning of all this?” said Van Baerle, grasping in his hands the two bulbs, and directing his terrified glance towards the staircase.
“They are coming up! they are coming up!” cried the servant.
