“Down with the enemies of His Highness!”
“Death to the friends of King Louis!”
“I did not show myself friendly to France in Southwold bay,” said Cornelius de Witt grimly.
“Sign, Mynheer,” begged the secretary, “or we shall all be murdered!”
A stone hurtled through the window and struck one of the posts of the bed.
“Oh, God help us!” exclaimed Maria de Witt. She flung herself on her knees again. “My lord—for the sake of the children——”
A musket was fired below, and one of the servants shrieked.
“Well, Mynheer,” asked Captain Hoogewerf, “how much longer are we to wait?”
“Put your pistol through my head,” answered the Ruard hoarsely, “for I will not be torn to pieces by the mob.” He repeated—“That is a horrible death—to be torn in pieces by the mob.”
Maria de Witt was bitterly weeping.