He turned round and saw Rosa. “Do you hear these madmen?” he said. “I hear them so well, my father, that in your place----” “You would open the door?” “No, I should allow it to be forced.” “But they will kill me!” “Yes, if they see you.” “How shall they not see me?” “Hide yourself.” “Where?” “In the secret dungeon.” “But you, my child?” “I shall get into it with you. We shall lock the door and when they have left the prison, we shall again come forth from our hiding place.” “Zounds, you are right, there!” cried Gryphus; “it’s surprising how much sense there is in such a little head!” Then, as the gate began to give way amidst the triumphant shouts of the mob, she opened a little trap-door, and said,-- “Come along, come along, father.” “But our prisoners?” “God will watch over them, and I shall watch over you.” Gryphus followed his daughter, and the trap-door closed over his head, just as the broken gate gave admittance to the populace. The dungeon where Rosa had induced her father to hide himself, and where for the present we must leave the two, offered to them a perfectly safe retreat, being known only to those in power, who used to place there important prisoners of state, to guard against a rescue or a revolt. The people rushed into the prison, with the cry-- “Death to the traitors! To the gallows with Cornelius de Witt! Death! death!” Chapter 4. The Murderers The young man with his hat slouched over his eyes, still leaning on the arm of the officer, and still wiping from time to time his brow with his handkerchief, was watching in a corner of the Buytenhof, in the shade of the overhanging weather-board of a closed shop, the doings of the infuriated mob, a spectacle which seemed to draw near its catastrophe. “Indeed,” said he to the officer, “indeed, I think you were right, Van Deken; the order which the deputies have signed is truly the death-warrant of Master Cornelius. Do you hear these people? They certainly bear a sad grudge to the two De Witts.” “In truth,” replied the officer, “I never heard such shouts.” “They seem to have found out the cell of the man. Look, look! is not that the window of the cell where Cornelius was locked up?” A man had seized with both hands and was shaking the iron bars of the window in the room which Cornelius had left only ten minutes before. “Halloa, halloa!” the man called out, “he is gone.” “How is that? gone?” asked those of the mob who had not been able to get into the prison, crowded as it was with the mass of intruders. “Gone, gone,” repeated the man in a rage, “the bird has flown.” “What does this man say?” asked his Highness, growing quite pale. “Oh, Monseigneur, he says a thing which would be very fortunate if it should turn out true!” “Certainly it would be fortunate if it were true,” said the young man; “unfortunately it cannot be true.” “However, look!” said the officer.