Page:The black tulip (IA 10892334.2209.emory.edu).pdf/43

 “There are fatalities,” Monseigneur replied, in an off-hand manner; “and the greatest men have sometimes fallen victims to such fatalities.”

At these words the officer felt his blood run cold, as somehow or other he was convinced that the prisoner was lost.

At this moment the roar of the multitude broke forth like thunder, for it was now quite certain that Cornelius De Witte was no longer in the prison.

Cornelius and John, after driving along the pond, had taken the main street, which leads to the Tol-Hek, giving directions to the coachman to slacken his pace, in order not to excite any suspicion.

But when, on having proceeded half-way down that street, the man felt that he had left the prison and death behind, and before him there was life and liberty, he neglected every precaution, and set his horses off at a gallop.

All at once he stopped.

“What is the matter?” asked John, putting his head out of the coach-window.

“Oh! my masters!” cried the coachman, “it is” Terror choked the voice of the honest fellow.

“Well, say what you have to say!” urged the Grand Pensionary.

“The gate is closed, that’s what it is.”

“How is this? It is not usual to close the gate by day.”

“Just look!”

John de Witte leaned out of the window, and indeed saw that the man was right.

“Never mind, but drive on,” said John, “I have with me the order for the commutation of the punishment, the gate-keeper will let us through.”

The carriage moved along, but it was evident that the