The valet had been before them, and had warned his master of what was happening.
They found him standing by the great bed with its gold and crimson hangings supporting the Ruard, who, weak and faint with suffering, was endeavouring to sit up against the pillows.
At the first glance round his simple privacy, the instant impression of a sick and helpless man, the secretary fell back, but Captain Hoogewerf strode forward.
The eyes of Cornelius de Witt shone in his worn face with as proud a light as they had shown when he kept his place on the deck of The Seven Provinces amid the hurry of battle.
“Captain Hoogewerf,” he said in a feeble but resolute voice, “what means this unruly entrance?”
“It means,” he was answered, “that this town is now under the government of His Highness the Stadtholder.”
Cornelius de Witt frowned haughtily. His wife stepped to his bedside, and stood with her hand on the curtain looking from him to the captain, from him to the secretary.
Just inside the door the three soldiers waited.
Orent Muys, speaking with more consideration, informed the Ruard of the revolution in Dordt, and produced his paper with the hanging seals.
“This is against the law,” said M. de Witt