The gaoler stood dumb and terrified.
Quickly John de Witt composed himself.
“Take me back to my brother,” he said.
He had not ascended half the stairs before the bell of the prison rang.
Two burgher captains stood without: Van Os, a postman, and Van Asselyn, a bookseller.
John de Witt was called down to speak to them; they were moved by his composed, serene demeanour, and promised to persuade the captain of the guard to let him pass.
He waited for their return, but in vain; the other burghers prevented it.
“I wish I were out of this,” repeated M. de Witt. “How shall I get out? Is there no other way but this?”
“No, Mynheer.”