CHAPTER XVI
LEYDEN
It seemed that from some church tower far away a clock struck the hour of midnight when the sledge at last came to a halt.
Worn out with nerve-racking thoughts, as well as with the cruel monotony of the past four hours, Gilda felt her soul and body numb and lifeless as a stone. There was much running and shouting round the vehicle, of horses' hoofs resounding against rough cobble-stones, of calls for ostler and landlord.
Then for awhile comparative quietude. Maria still snored unperturbed, and Gilda, wide-eyed and with beating heart, awaited further events. Firstly the hood of the sledge in which she lay was lifted off: she could hear the ropes and straps being undone, the tramp of feet all round her and an occasional volley of impatient oaths. Then out of the darkness a pleasant voice called her somewhat peremptorily by name.
"Mejuffrouw Beresteyn!"
She did not reply, but lay quite still, with wide-open eyes like a bird that has been tracked and knows that it is watched. Maria uttered a loud groan and tried to roll over on her side.
"Where have those murderers taken us to now?" she muttered through the veil that still enveloped her mouth.
The pleasant voice close to Gilda's ear, now called out more loudly: