Чорний тюльпан
An Invasion
Beyouquiet,sir,Ishallletyouknowallaboutit.”
Boxtelcontentedhimselfwithsignifyinghisapprovalofthezealofhisservantbydumbshow.
Themanwentout,andreturnedinhalfanhour.
“Oh,sir,allthatItoldyouisindeedquitetrue.”
“Howso?”
“MynheervanBaerleisarrested,andhasbeenputintoacarriage,andtheyaredrivinghimtotheHague.”
“TotheHague!”
“Yes,totheHague,andifwhatpeoplesayistrue,itwon’tdohimmuchgood.”
“Andwhatdotheysay?”Boxtelasked.
“Faith,sir,theysay—butitisnotquitesure—thatbythishourtheburghersmustbemurderingMynheerCorneliusandMynheerJohndeWitt.”
“Oh,”muttered,orrathergrowledBoxtel,closinghiseyesfromthedreadfulpicturewhichpresenteditselftohisimagination.
“Why,tobesure,”saidtheservanttohimself,whilstleavingtheroom,“MynheerIsaacBoxtelmustbeverysicknottohavejumpedfromhisbedonhearingsuchgoodnews.”
And,inreality,IsaacBoxtelwasverysick,likeamanwhohasmurderedanother.
Buthehadmurderedhismanwithadoubleobject;thefirstwasattained,thesecondwasstilltobeattained.
Nightclosedin.ItwasthenightwhichBoxtelhadlookedforwardto.
Assoonasitwasdarkhegotup.
Hethenclimbedintohissycamore.
Hehadcalculatedcorrectly;noonethoughtofkeepingwatchoverthegarden;thehouseandtheservantswereallintheutmostconfusion.
Heheardtheclockstrike—ten,eleven,twelve.
