The elder de Witt’s voice trembled a little.
“This must be answered, my son—every citizen of the United Provinces is reading it—the charges are most gravely and categorically stated … the vileness of it is almost beyond credit.”
The Grand Pensionary half turned and picked the pamphlet up.
It was entitled: Advice to every Good and Faithful Hollander.
“What do they say?” he asked wearily.
“They say—” Jacob de Witt drew himself erect,—“this libel says that you have purloined money from the Treasury and sent it to a bank in Venice, where you propose to retire after the conquest of the United Provinces.… That you have betrayed your country by leaving it without defence, and that you have appropriated yearly eighty thousand florins of the Secret Service money.…”
John de Witt rested his tired eyes on the gentle trees.
“How can I answer that?” he said simply. “The mere frothings of spite.”
“You must answer it—you must disprove it!” cried his father firmly.