sleepy servants within. At length he was admitted by a yawning, hastily clad domestic who went to call the burgomaster. Van der Werf came down quickly, expecting another message from outside the city. His face was pale, haggard and careworn, and his eyes showed plainly that he had passed a sleepless night.
“Jan,” he cried, “what news hast thou? Is there another message?” Then seeing the old man’s wild, questioning eyes,—“Ah! what ails thee? Has anything dreadful happened?”
“Is she not here? Is she not here?” muttered Jan, sinking limply into a chair.
“Is who not here?” questioned Van der Werf mystified.
“Jacqueline!—the Juffrouw Jacqueline!”
“Juffrouw Jacqueline has not been here for three days! Why, Jan, what has happened?” Then the old man told the story, while Van der Werf listened with darkening face.
