“Yes,” answered his brother, catching up his mantle, “I will leave you, because I will go to the States and complain of these disturbances; but I shall return very shortly to liberate you.”
“I trust to your advice,” answered Cornelius. “I will go with you on your return, if you think it fit. Good-bye—brother.”
“Good-bye, for a little while.”
Putting on his hat, and accompanied by Van Ouvenaller and his servant, John de Witt descended to the mean passage from which the insignificant door gave straight on to the street.
The gaoler, Van Bossi, opened it for his exit, but as de Witt made to step out of the prison the two burghers on guard crossed their muskets before him.
“No one can leave,” one of them said, and roughly motioned him back.
John de Witt surveyed him sternly.
“Why not?” he demanded. “You know very well who I am.”
Others of the burgher company came running up to where M. de Witt stood in the narrow doorway behind the crossed muskets.