This daring miscreant detailed, with all the embellishments and flourishes suggested by his base mind and his ruffianly imagination, the attempts which he pretended Cornelius de Witte had made to corrupt him; the sums of money which were promised, and all the diabolical stratagems planned beforehand to smooth for him, Tyckelaer, all the difficulties in the path of murder.
And every phase of his speech, eagerly listened to by the populace, called forth enthusiastic cheers for the Prince of Orange, and groans and imprecations of blind fury against the brothers De Witte.
The mob even began to vent its rage by inveighing against the iniquitous judges, who had allowed such a detestable criminal as the villain Cornelius to get off so cheaply.
Some of the agitators whispered, “He will be off, he will escape from us!”
Others replied, “A vessel is waiting for him at Schevening, a French craft. Tyckelaer has seen her.”
“Honest Tyckelaer! Hurrah for Tyckelaer!” the mob cried in chorus.
“And let us not forget,” a voice exclaimed from the crowd, “that at the same time with Cornelius his brother John, who is as rascally a traitor as himself, will likewise make his escape.”
“And the two rogues will in France make merry with our money, with the money for our vessels, our arsenals, and our dockyards, which they have sold to Louis XIV.”
“Well, then, don’t let us allow them to depart!” advised one of the patriots who had gained the start of the others.
“Forward to the prison, to the prison!” echoed the crowd.
Amid these cries, the citizens ran along faster and
