Under the terrible fire of his eyes the false accuser shrank back. Another ruffian, a miller, aimed the butt end of his musket at the head of Cornelius.
John, catching the fellow’s arm, turned it aside, it hit and shattered the bed-post; on this a notary named Van Saenen struck the back of his head with a pike.
De Witt turned and looked at him proudly and calmly.
Again they hesitated; not one of them offered to seize him.
He removed his hat, pulled out his handkerchief and bound it round his head, for the blood was dripping down his curls.
“Is it your intention to kill me also?” he asked.
A murmur came from those at the back.
“Yes, traitor, thief, and rascal, you shall have the same fate as your cursed brother!”
“Dress yourself!” shouted Verhoef, and flung the Ruard’s clothes on the bed.