"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.
"Cornelius de Witt "August 20th, 1672." John, with tears in his eyes, wiped off a drop of the noble blood which had soiled the leaf, and, after having handed the despatch to Craeke with a last direction, returned to Cornelius, who seemed overcome by intense pain, and near fainting.
"Now," said he, "when honest Craeke sounds his coxswain's whistle, it will be a signal of his being clear of the crowd, and of his having reached the other side of the pond.

And then it will be our turn to depart." Five minutes had not elapsed, before a long and shrill whistle was heard through the din and noise of the square of the Buytenhof.
John gratefully raised his eyes to heaven.
"And now," said he, "let us off, Cornelius.".