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 grieved,” said the gatekeeper, rushing towards the carriage; “but, upon my sacred word, the key has been taken from me.”

“When?”

“This morning.”

“By whom?”

“By a pale and thin young man, of about twenty-two.”

“And wherefore did you give it up to him?”

“Because he showed me an order, signed and sealed.”

“By whom?”

“By the gentlemen of the Town-hall.”

“Well, then,” said Cornelius calmly, “our doom seems to be fixed.”

“Do you know whether the same precaution has been taken at the other gates?”

“I do not.”

“Now then,” said John to the coachman, “God commands man to do all that is in his power to preserve his life; go, and drive to another gate.”

And whilst the servant was turning round the vehicle the Grand Pensionary said to the gatekeeper,—

“Take our thanks for your good intentions; the will must count for the deed; you had the will to save us, and that, in the eyes of the Lord, is as if you had succeeded in doing so.”

“Alas!” said the gatekeeper, “do you see down there?”

“Drive at a gallop through that group,” John called out to the coachman, “and take the street on the left; it is our only chance.”

The group which John alluded to had, for its nucleus, those three men whom we left looking after the carriage, and who, in the meanwhile, had been joined by seven or eight others.