you again! Ah, this will indeed re-animate old Jan, and even Vrouw Voorhaas may—but come!” And he rushed them along so fast that Jacqueline could hardly find breath in which to ask after the sick woman.
“She is very, very low!” panted De Witt. “We hardly expect her to live through the day, but the sight of you two may make some difference,—I cannot tell! Hurry, hurry!” They reached Belfry Lane, stopped a moment to regain breath, and all three crept upstairs as softly as possible. The opened door revealed a strange sight to their astonished gaze. Jan stood huddled in a corner, eyes wide with amazement, apprehension, and doubt. Vrouw Voorhaas, withered and shrunken by her long illness, half sat up in her bed looking more like a ghost than a living being. But most astonishing of all, over her leaned a stranger, a tall, gaunt man clad in the uniform of the Beggars of the Sea. He bent over the woman, clasping her hand and questioning her anxiously in a low voice.
