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Page 13
"At the door of your cell, I suppose."
"Let him enter then."
John opened the door; the faithful servant was waiting on
the threshold.
"Come in, Craeke, and mind well what my brother will tell
you."
"No, John; it will not suffice to send a verbal message;
unfortunately, I shall be obliged to write."
"And why that?"
"Because Van Baerle will neither give up the parcel nor burn
it without a special command to do so."
"But will you be able to write, poor old fellow?" John
asked, with a look on the scorched and bruised hands of the
unfortunate sufferer.
"If I had pen and ink you would soon see," said Cornelius.
"Here is a pencil, at any rate."
"Have you any paper? for they have left me nothing."
"Here, take this Bible, and tear out the fly-leaf."
"Very well, that will do."
"But your writing will be illegible."
"Just leave me alone for that," said Cornelius. "The
executioners have indeed pinched me badly enough, but my
hand will not tremble once in tracing the few lines which
are requisite."
And really Cornelius took the pencil and began to write,
when through the white linen bandages drops of blood oozed
out which the pressure of the fingers against the pencil
squeezed from the raw flesh.
A cold sweat stood on the brow of the Grand Pensionary.
Cornelius wrote: --
"My dear Godson, --
"Burn the parcel which I have intrusted to you. Burn it
without looking at it, and without opening it, so that its
contents may for ever remain unknown to yourself. Secrets of
this description are death to those with whom they are
deposited. Burn it, and you will have saved John and
Cornelius de Witt.
"Farewell, and love me.
"Cornelius de Witt
"August 20th, 1672."
John, with tears in his eyes, wiped off a drop of the noble
blood which had soiled the leaf, and, after having handed
the despatch to Craeke with a last direction, returned to
Cornelius, who seemed overcome by intense pain, and near
fainting.
"Now," said he, "when honest Craeke sounds his coxswain's
whistle, it will be a signal of his being clear of the
crowd, and of his having reached the other side of the pond.
And then it will be our turn to depart."
Five minutes had not elapsed, before a long and shrill
whistle was heard through the din and noise of the square of
the Buytenhof.
John gratefully raised his eyes to heaven.
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