Черный тюльпан
The Murderers
Andindeed,somemorefaces,furiousandcontortedwithrage,showedthemselvesatthewindows,crying,—
“Escaped,gone,theyhavehelpedthemoff!”
Andthepeopleinthestreetrepeated,withfearfulimprecations,—
“Escaped!gone!Afterthem,andcatchthem!”
“Monseigneur,itseemsthatMynheerCorneliushasreallyescaped,”saidtheofficer.
“Yes,fromprison,perhaps,butnotfromthetown;youwillsee,VanDeken,thatthepoorfellowwillfindthegateclosedagainsthimwhichhehopedtofindopen.”
“Hasanorderbeengiventoclosethetowngates,Monseigneur?”
“No,—atleastIdonotthinkso;whocouldhavegivensuchanorder?”
“Indeed,butwhatmakesyourHighnesssuppose?”
“Therearefatalities,”Monseigneurreplied,inanoffhandmanner;“andthegreatestmenhavesometimesfallenvictimstosuchfatalities.”
Atthesewordstheofficerfelthisbloodruncold,assomehoworotherhewasconvincedthattheprisonerwaslost.
Atthismomenttheroarofthemultitudebrokeforthlikethunder,foritwasnowquitecertainthatCorneliusdeWittwasnolongerintheprison.
CorneliusandJohn,afterdrivingalongthepond,hadtakenthemainstreet,whichleadstotheTol-Hek,givingdirectionstothecoachmantoslackenhispace,inordernottoexciteanysuspicion.
Butwhen,onhavingproceededhalf-waydownthatstreet,themanfeltthathehadlefttheprisonanddeathbehind,andbeforehimtherewaslifeandliberty,heneglectedeveryprecaution,andsethishorsesoffatagallop.
Allatoncehestopped.
