Monsieur Tilly made a last effort, crying: "Is it your purpose to risk your own life, as well as that of Cornelius, by proceeding to the prison?" And answering an impatient wafture of John De Witt's hand, he added: "It is horrible, but it is a fact--the first blood that a mob sheds throws it into a savage intoxication. So far from being allayed by your death, the hatred of those furious men will then become so unbridled that it will be impossible any longer to restrain them. They will then force the prison gates and slaughter your brother!" "Enough! Enough, my friend!" said John De Witt with a shudder, and almost overcome by the insistence of his friends. He seemed to hesitate in his first determination, when he saw Madam De Witt step into the apartment. "My friend," said she to her husband handing him a note that she held in her hand, "one of the grenadiers of the prison has just brought you this letter from our brother Cornelius. It is urgent, says the man. He is waiting for your answer. He says there is considerable commotion in The Hague, and that, should you wish to proceed to the castle, he offers to lead you through the closed Borlek Alley, and thence to Vivier Alley, of which he has the key. But he says you must not delay." John De Witt hastened to take the note, ran his eyes over it, and cried: "My brother writes to me that he wishes to see me immediately." "It is a trap!" exclaimed Serdan. "You seem to forget that Cornelius is not in a condition to write! Crime and treachery!" "Why should he not be in a condition to write?" asked Madam De Witt, ignorant of the circumstance that her brother-in-law's hands were crushed. An embarrassing silence followed upon Madam De Witt's question, a silence which Monsieur Tilly broke: "Madam, your brother is suffering with an abscess on his thumb. It would be difficult for him to hold a pen." "Mary, my cloak, my sword, my gloves; quick, I pray you," said John De Witt to his wife. Madam De Witt left in quest of the articles demanded by her husband. No sooner had she withdrawn than Tilly, Serdan, Salaun Lebrenn and his son cried in alarm: "Give up the thought! Do not go to the castle! You will be marching to your death!" "The letter is a forgery!" added Serdan. "They are laying a snare for you, and the jailer is in the plot!" "First of all, hear what Cornelius writes to me," said John De Witt to his friends, and he read: "Dear brother, I am obliged to help myself with a stranger's hand to write to you. I urge you earnestly, come to me to the castle without delay. Your presence is indispensable. One of the jailers is devoted to me. He will lead you by a circuitous route, where you are not likely to meet anyone. Come, come." "Treachery!" repeated Serdan. "I tell you once more, their purpose is to lead you into a trap, an ambush!"