"Here, take this Bible, and tear out the fly-leaf."

"Very well, that will do."

"But your writing will be illegible."

"Just leave me alone for that," said Cornelius. "The
executioners have indeed pinched me badly enough, but my
hand will not tremble once in tracing the few lines which
are requisite."

And really Cornelius took the pencil and began to write,
when through the white linen bandages drops of blood oozed
out which the pressure of the fingers against the pencil
squeezed from the raw flesh.

A cold sweat stood on the brow of the Grand Pensionary.

Cornelius wrote: --

"My dear Godson, --

"Burn the parcel which I have intrusted to you. Burn it
without looking at it, and without opening it, so that its
contents may for ever remain unknown to yourself. Secrets of
this description are death to those with whom they are
deposited. Burn it, and you will have saved John and
Cornelius de Witt.

"Farewell, and love me.