Verhoef, mounted on a white horse, rode up to the cavalry of the States, an Orange flag in his hand.
“Very well,” he shouted fiercely, “if it is orders you want we will get them for you!”
And he and his troop galloped off in the direction of the Stadhuis.
John drew back from the window.
“They have gone to procure an order for Tilly’s withdrawal,” he said in a low voice.
The eyes of the brothers met across the prison space.
“The magistrates will never give that order.”
John put his hand to his breast.
“Oh, pray God they do nothing base, for they were great—my Republic.”