It appeared that the crime was purely a commercial speculation on the part of Anastro.  That merchant, being on the verge of bankruptcy, had entered with Philip into a mutual contract, which the King had signed with his hand and sealed with his seal, and according to which Anastro, within a certain period, was to take the life of William of Orange, and for so doing was to receive eighty thousand ducats, and the cross of Santiago.  To be a knight companion of Spain’s proudest order of chivalry was the guerdon, over and above the eighty thousand pieces of silver, which Spain’s monarch promised the murderer, if he should succeed.  As for Anastro himself, he was too frugal and too wary to risk his own life, or to lose much of the premium.  With, tears streaming down his cheeks, he painted to his faithful cashier the picture which his master would present, when men should point at him and say, “Behold yon bankrupt!” protesting, therefore, that he would murder Orange and secure the reward, or perish in the attempt.  Saying this, he again shed many tears.  Venero, seeing his master thus disconsolate, wept bitterly likewise; and begged him not to risk his own precious life.  After this pathetic commingling of their grief, the merchant and his book-keeper became more composed, and it was at last concerted between them that John Jaureguy should be entrusted with the job.  Anastro had intended—­as he said in a letter afterwards intercepted—­“to accomplish the deed with his own hand; but, as God had probably reserved him for other things, and particularly to be of service to his very affectionate friends, he had thought best to entrust the execution of the design to his servant.”  The price paid by the master to the man, for the work, seems to have been but two thousand eight hundred and seventy-seven crowns.  The cowardly and crafty principal escaped.  He had gone post haste to Dunkirk, pretending that the sudden death of his agent in Calais required his immediate presence in that city.  Governor Sweveseel, of Dunkirk, sent an orderly to get a passport for him from La Motte, commanding at Gravelingen.  Anastro being on tenter-hooks lest the news should arrive that the projected murder had been consummated before he had crossed the border, testified extravagant joy on the arrival of the passport, and gave the messenger who brought it thirty pistoles.  Such conduct naturally excited a vague suspicion in the mind of the governor, but the merchant’s character was good, and he had brought pressing letters from Admiral Treslong.  Sweveseel did not dare to arrest him without cause, and he neither knew that any crime had been committed; nor that the man before him was the criminal.  Two hours after the traveller’s departure, the news arrived of the deed, together with orders to arrest Anastro, but it was too late.  The merchant had found refuge within the lines of Parma.

Meanwhile, the Prince lay in a most critical condition.  Believing that his end was fast approaching; he dictated letters to the states-general, entreating them to continue in their obedience to the Duke, than whom he affirmed that he knew no better prince for the government of the provinces.  These letters were despatched by Saint Aldegonde to the assembly, from which body a deputation, in obedience to the wishes of Orange, was sent to Anjou, with expressions of condolence and fidelity.