Gryphus, perceiving an unknown and consequently a forbidden object in the hands of his prisoner, pounced upon it with the same rapidity as the hawk on its prey.
As ill luck would have it, his coarse, hard hand, the same which he had broken, and which Cornelius van Baerle had set so well, grasped at once in the midst of the jug, on the spot where the bulb was lying in the soil.
“What have you got here?” he roared. “Ah! have I caught you?” and with this he grabbed in the soil.
“I? nothing, nothing,” cried Cornelius, trembling.
“Ah! have I caught you? a jug and earth in it There is some criminal secret at the bottom of all this.”
“Oh, my good Master Gryphus,” said Van Baerle, imploringly, and anxious as the partridge robbed of her young by the reaper.
In fact, Gryphus was beginning to dig the soil with his crooked fingers.
“Take care, sir, take care,” said Cornelius, growing quite pale.
“Care of what? Zounds! of what?” roared the jailer.
“Take care, I say, you will crush it, Master Gryphus.”