His thickset companion assented with a rough "Jawohl!"

"Well, I can but try," said Harry, thinking of Count Wratislaw's letter

as his open sesame. "I shall ride on in a minute or two."

The landlord lifted his eyebrows.

"The noble Herr has perhaps more persuasion than the Herr Rittmeister.

But if you find it as I say,--well, there is good accommodation within."

He went into the inn with his companion, leaving Harry on the bench.

Harry reflected. It was absurd to tire himself needlessly; he had

ridden with brief intervals for nearly eighteen hours since he left

Maintz, and felt by no means eager to get into the saddle again.

Perhaps it would be best to close with the man's offer, sleep at the

inn, and start fresh early in the morning. Yet he hesitated; there was

something about the landlord that he did not like; he felt for him one

of those unaccountable antipathies that spring up at a word, a look, a

touch. But the feeling was vague and unsubstantial; after a moment he

dismissed it as unreasonable, and concluded that his best course would

be to take his rest now rather than run the risk of having it deferred

for some hours.

He went into the inn.

"The noble Herr decides to stay?" said the landlord. "Well! I would not

persuade, but I think you are right, Excellency. Johann, take the

gentleman's horse to the stable. I will see then that a room is

prepared. And you will like supper, Excellency?"

"Yes. Anything will do."

He accompanied the ostler to the stable and saw the horse well rubbed

and fed.

"Whose horse is that?" he asked, noticing a sorrel in the next stall.

"He belongs, Excellency, to the gentleman now with the host, by name

Hermann Bart, a farmer of the district."

"Oh! he looks a strong beast--the horse, I mean. I shall want to be off

at dawn; you'll see that my horse is ready?"

Returning to the inn, he ate the plain supper brought him by an old

woman as deaf as a post. While he sat at table the landlord stood

opposite him, attentively anticipating his wants.

"I can have a light breakfast at three, landlord?"

"Certainly, Excellency; we are early birds here, though in these times

there are few travellers along the road, more's the pity."

"Ah! Is there any news of the armies hereabouts?"

"Why yes. Only yesterday--so it is said--the Elector of Bavaria crossed

the river at Ulm, and the Prince of Baden, who 'tis to be hoped will

beat him, stands somewhat higher up at Ehingen across the mountains

yonder."

"You have not been troubled yourself by the soldiers?"

"Never a whit, Excellency. And I trust I never shall be. They march,

you see, along the rivers, and my little place is out of their route.

You are travelling far, mein Herr?"

"Not a great distance," replied Harry, thinking it prudent to give no

information. The landlord made no attempt to press him, but kept up a

desultory conversation until he had finished his supper.

"I will go and take a look at my horse, and then turn in."

He went out to the stable, and noticed that the second horse was gone.

"Your friend the farmer has gone home then?" he said to the ostler.

"Yes, Excellency, some time ago."

"My horse is comfortable, I see; good-night!"

As he left the stable he heard the man behind him whistling as he gave

the cobbles a final sweeping for the night. The tune seemed familiar,

but Harry was not sufficiently interested to give another thought to it.

The landlord met him at the door with a lighted candle and led the way

to his room.

"It is a small room, Excellency," he explained apologetically; "not such

a room as befits a gentleman of your rank. But the truth is, the heavy

rains of late have found out a weak spot in the roof, and my large

guest-chamber is consequently very damp. The small room here to the

left is, however, very comfortable; it was last occupied by an Austrian

nobleman who slept through the night without turning an eyelid."

"Then it will suit me very well," said Harry.

"Breakfast at daybreak, you said, Excellency?"

"Yes."

"You will want nothing more to-night?"

"Nothing. Good-night, landlord!"

Harry shut the door and shot the bolt. He thought the Austrian nobleman

must have been easily satisfied. The room was about twelve feet by

seven, and contained nothing but a bed and a chair. There was one small

window opening on to the courtyard some thirty feet below, the view of

the yard being partially obstructed by a projecting wing of the house

immediately beneath. The air of the room being very stuffy, he opened

the window wide; then he undressed, blew out the light, and got into

bed, pulling out the blanket, which seemed somewhat frowsy, and finding

enough warmth in the light coverlet.

But he found it impossible to sleep. He was in fact overtired, and

bodily fatigue often makes the mind only more active. He fell a-musing,

and wondered what it was in the landlord's manner that he disliked.

Through the window came the sound of the stableman's whistle as he

locked the yard gate, and Harry tried in vain to recollect where he had

heard the tune before. The ostler was a happy fellow, evidently;

perhaps his master was better than he appeared. The whistling ceased, a

door banged, presumably the man had gone to bed; "and he'll sleep as

sound as a top," thought Harry. He turned over on to his back and

stared at the ceiling, which consisted of thick beams with rough boards

between. By and by he noticed a dark square outline in the planking

just above him. He could not see it distinctly, for the beams of the

rising moon did not fall upon it directly, but across the bed, making

the room itself fairly light. For a time he looked idly at the square;

it was evidently a trap-door. He began to be curious about it, then was

aware of an indefinable, inexplicable sense of uneasiness, of

insecurity. He felt that he could neither withdraw his gaze from the

trap-door nor put it from his thoughts. He turned on to his right side,

away from the window, but in a few moments was on his back again,

staring up as before.

"This is ridiculous," he said to himself impatiently. "I wonder whether

the thing has a bolt."

He rose, and, standing on the bed, found that with outstretched hand he

could just reach the boards. Exploring the edge of the trap-door with

his fingers he soon discovered that there was no bolt, though there had

evidently been one at some time, for on a second search he felt an iron

socket let into one of the adjacent joists. He raised himself on

tiptoes and gently pushed at the door. It rose slightly; clearly it was

not fastened above. No glimmer of moonlight came through the small gap

between the trap and the ceiling; therefore it did not give directly

upon the roof, but probably opened into an attic or loft. There was

nothing more to be discovered, and indeed he scarcely felt that he

needed to discover more, for his uneasiness had already been largely

dissipated by action. He lay down again, and tried to sleep.

This time he was successful. How long he slept he did not know. He

suddenly awoke, and at the first moment of consciousness remembered the

ostler's tune; he identified it now; it was something like Fanshawe's

song of "Widdicombe Fair". He was not enough of a musician to decide

how close was the resemblance; country songs of different nations were,

he supposed, often alike. Glad that his puzzlement was gone, he settled

himself once more to sleep.

All at once his senses were roused to full activity by the sound of two

or more horses approaching the inn, at a walk, as he knew by the fall of

the hoofs. It was very late for travellers; besides, travellers would

probably have ridden up at a trot; he wondered who the riders could be,

and listened intently. In a few moments the sounds ceased; then through

the open window came the murmur of low voices. Springing quietly out of

bed, he went to the window and peeped cautiously out. Five men were

leading their horses into the copse immediately opposite to the inn.

The short squat figure of one of them reminded him of the farmer whom he

had seen with the landlord a few hours before; he seemed the shorter by

contrast with the next man, a tall massive figure. They went quietly,

and disappeared into the copse; soon afterwards four of them emerged

from the trees and approached the inn. Not a word was spoken; the men

were apparently walking on tiptoe; but there came the slight sound of a

door opening and closing, then dead silence again.

By this time Harry was as wide-awake as ever he had been in his life.

His uneasiness returned in full force, and was now magnified into

suspicion. The landlord's furtive look and unsatisfactory manner; the

story of the closing of the gates of Urach; his lame explanation about

the room; the absence of a fastening to the trap-door; the disappearance

of the landlord's forbidding companion; the reappearance of the same man

with a number of others; their stealthy movements, and the fact that

they had tied their horses up in the copse instead of bringing them into

the courtyard--all these were links in a chain of suspicious

circumstance, of little significance singly, but disturbing when taken

together. And the stableman's tune--what did that mean? Was it

actually the tune of "Widdicombe Fair", and not merely one resembling

it? Had the ostler heard it from Fanshawe's lips? Was he on the track

of the explanation of the disappearance of one of Marlborough's

messengers?

Quickly and noiselessly Harry slipped on his clothes. His first duty

was, of course, to deliver the duke's letter; nothing must interfere

with that. His suspicions might be utterly groundless, but on the other

hand they might be only too well justified. He must be on the safe

side; it was necessary to put himself out of harm's way.

Only one staircase led to his room: it sprang from the narrow

entrance-hall of the inn, on each side of which were the doors of the

rooms on the ground floor. He could scarcely hope to be able to pass

down, however stealthily, without being discovered; and even if he did

succeed in this and left the inn, he would be immediately seen by the

fifth man, who, he guessed, had been left in the copse to keep watch on

the front door. The staircase being given up, there remained only the

window and the trap-door. By placing the chair upon the bed and

mounting it he might manage to swing himself up through the trap-door;

but it flashed upon him that if any mischief were intended the midnight

visitors would certainly approach through the attic or loft above. He

remembered passing, at the head of the stairs, a door which he had taken

to be that of a cupboard; it might be the entrance to a stair leading to

the loft, and if he tried that exit he would certainly be in an even

worse trap.

A glance from the window determined his choice. There was a drop of

about fifteen feet from it to the roof of the outbuilding. In the

moonlight he caught sight of what appeared to be the top of a drain-pipe

from the roof of this lower building to the ground. The drain-pipe

would form an easy means of descent could he gain the roof. There was

only one way to do that: to descend by aid of a rope. Without hesitation

he drew the thin coverlet from the bed, and tore it across the middle.

Knotting the two pieces together he rolled up a clumsy but serviceable

rope. The window was only two feet from the bed-post. He tied the rope

to this, slung his boots round his neck, wrapped his scabbard in a

corner cut from the blanket, to prevent its clanking, and prepared to

descend.

It was fortunate that the window was already open, for the creaking of

the frame might have attracted attention. There was a risk that the man

in the copse might see him as he got through the window; but the moon

was now above the house, and the overhanging roof cast a deep shadow

over all below.

He had his hand on the broad window-sill, preparing to begin the

descent, when an idea gave him pause. How ridiculous he must appear if

his suspicions turned out to be baseless, and he had slunk like a thief

from the house! How humiliating would be his situation if he were caught

in the act and treated as a doubtful character! He could not be

suspected of stealing; there was nothing to steal; but he might be

thought to be running away without paying. He could prevent that, at

any rate. He put a gold piece on the chair.

"That's double pay," he thought.

But still he hesitated. No man cares to look a fool, and he would

certainly look very foolish if his imagination proved to have run away

with him. But what is that? A slight creak on the stairs, then another.

Now a faint rustle outside the door. Holding his breath he listens.

Yes, the supposed cupboard door is being opened; a moment, then he hears

the faint but unmistakable creak of footsteps on the crazy stairs

leading to the attic. He hesitates no longer. In two minutes at the

most the intruders will have come through the trap-door into the room.

Throwing one leg over the window-sill, he grasps his rope with one hand

and the sill with the other; over goes the other leg, and now he is

hanging by the frail rope. He feels the soft material yield to his

weight; it is stretched to its full extent; it holds! He needs it for

only a few feet. Down he glides: his feet touch the slates of the

outhouse; now he is in full view from the copse save that a

chimney-stack on the roof throws a black shadow all around him. Will he

escape notice? Keeping the chimney between him and the copse he crawls

slowly over the slates and finds as he had hoped that the rain-water

pipe is out of sight. He slips over, grasps the pipe, and is half-way

down when there is a noise in the room above; and as his feet at last

touch the ground he sees two faces at the open window and hears loud

shouts.

He had already resolved on a risky experiment; it appeared his only

chance of escape. He had noticed that the country around, though hilly,

was bare of vegetation except about the inn, where trees had been

planted to tempt wayfarers. He knew that as soon as he got away from

the buildings his figure would be seen in the bright moonbeams, and he

was bound to be ridden down. The shouts from the window might be

expected for the moment to hold the attention of the man on the watch.

Relying on this, Harry darted across the road in the shadow of the

outbuildings and dived into the copse some twenty or thirty yards from

the place where the men had entered with the horses. Bending low,

moving rapidly, yet with all possible caution, among the trees, he bore

to the left towards the single watcher, whom he could now hear on the

road shouting in answer to the men in the house. Harry could not

distinguish their words, but judged from the vehemence of their tone and

his own consciousness of his design that they were bawling to the

sentinel to return to the horses he had left. It was a question which

should reach them first. The copse was almost dark; a glint of light

from the moon filtered through the foliage here and there. Running in

his stockings Harry made no noise; but he could already hear the heavy

trampling of the man as he plunged through the trees somewhere to his

left.

Suddenly he came to a narrow clearing; on the other side he saw the

horses tethered to the trees. Keeping just within the edge of the copse

he ran round at his utmost speed towards the animals, and just before he

reached them saw that their guardian had arrived at the end of the

clearing nearest to the road and had stopped in the attitude of

listening. There was much hubbub from the direction of the inn, and by

the sounds Harry knew that several men were crossing the road towards

the copse. The horses were between him and the solitary sentinel.

Coming to the nearest, he cast off its bridle, then, vaulting to the

saddle, he drew his sword and cut the bridles of the others, which were

standing head to head, loosely attached to the projecting branch of a

small tree. The man gave a shout and rushed forward when he saw Harry

on the horse. It was a moment for quick decision. Smartly hitting the

four intervening horses with the flat of his sword, Harry set them

scampering through the edge of the copse. The man could not evade them,

and in a moment he was knocked down. Harry meanwhile, trusting to the

darkness, followed on the heels of two horses which were heading through

the clearing towards the inn. At the outer edge of the copse he was

encountered by two men who attempted to catch his rein. Toppling one

over and cutting at the other he gained the highway; then set his

borrowed steed to a gallop and rode on towards Urach. "A near shave!" he

thought. He stopped a few hundred yards from the walls to put on his

boots, then rode up to the gate.

It was shut, and he had some difficulty in rousing the gatekeeper. When

the man came at length to his summons, he refused point-blank to allow

the rider to enter.

"I can't wait," cried Harry. "Seek the officer of the watch; I'll not

answer for what may happen if you delay me."

The gatekeeper went away grumbling and returned with the lieutenant of

the town guard, who held a pistol and asked Harry's business.

"I am on a mission for my lord Marlborough," said Harry. "This letter

from his Excellency Count Wratislaw will satisfy you."

The officer tried to read the letter by the light of the moon, but

finding this impossible, waited until the gate-keeper had lit his horn

lantern. Then, having read the letter, he ordered the man to open the

gate.

"Will you ride farther to-night, Monsieur?" he asked.

"No, I am dog tired," replied Harry. "Will you direct me to a lodging?"

"Permit me to offer you the hospitality of my own quarters. The inns

are all closed, of course; you are a very late traveller, Monsieur."

"Yes, I have been somewhat delayed on the road. If you will give me

sleeping quarters for a few hours I shall be obliged to you."

In less than a quarter of an hour he was fast asleep. At four he was

wakened, according to instructions given before he turned in. Stiff and

sore as he was, he meant to ride on at once, for the sooner his mission

was completed the sooner would he have the opportunity of seeking an

explanation with the innkeeper, which he promised himself should be a

thorough one. The lieutenant of the guard, a pleasant fellow, had a

light breakfast ready, and was eager to give information about the road.

From him Harry learnt that the highway to Biberach would lead through

the lines of Prince Louis of Baden. Though he had no instructions to

avoid the prince's army, he thought it very probable that he would best

serve the duke by preventing gossip. So, finding that by diverging

somewhat to the right and taking the road by Riedlingen he would pass

outside Prince Louis's lines and lose little time, he decided to adopt

this course. Thanking his entertainer, and promising to call on him on

the way back, he set off on his ride. Not a word had he said about his

adventure at the inn. It would be time to deal with that when his duty

was done.

Harry rode a hundred miles that day, reaching the town of Immenstadt in

the evening. He met with no adventure on the way; he found ready

service at the inns at which he stopped to change horses, rest, and eat.

But at the day's end he felt all but worn out. The sun had shone

brilliantly, scorching his face, neck, and hands, and causing much

discomfort to his horses. They suffered, however, less than he, for

while the steeds were changed at short stages, the rider was always the

same. He got some little relief by walking up the steepest hills along

the road. His physical state and his preoccupation made him oblivious

of the scenes through which he passed; afterwards he had but the vaguest

recollections of hill ridges, bosky dells, blue lakes, and dark masses

of rock, with a miry road winding among them, and here and there inns

where he was thankful to rest awhile.

He slept that night at Immenstadt, rose reluctantly early next morning,

and started for what he hoped was the last stage of his journey. About

ten o'clock he arrived at the little village of Obermiemingen. As he

rode in, he noted signs of excitement in the street. The whole

population seemed to be gathered about the inn. At the door stood a

heavy travelling coach with four horses, two of them saddled for

postilions. His arrival diverted the attention of some of the peasants

to himself, and they parted to make way for him. Dismounting stiffly he

went to the inn-door and called for the host. After some time a servant

came to him and explained that mine host was engaged at that moment with

his Excellency Prince Eugene of Savoy, who had driven up shortly before

attended by two officers and thirty troopers.

"Then I am in luck's way," said Harry. "I have a letter to his

Excellency: conduct me to his room."

Two minutes later he found himself in the presence of the renowned

soldier: the man who, mocked at in the French court as the "little abbe"

and refused employment by King Louis, had ever since lived for nothing

else but to prove himself a thorn in that monarch's side. He was of

somewhat less than the middle height, dark-complexioned, with refined

though not small features, and large flashing eyes. Harry presented his

letter; the prince having read it, laughed and said:

"My lord Marlborough is anxious, Monsieur. But a few hours ago I

received a message from him--dated several days back, it is true: you

have had better fortune than the first messenger. The letter was

brought to me at Innsprueck by a farmer from the Swabian Alb; the

courier, an officer of my lord Marlborough, had fallen from his horse,

it appears, and being conveyed to a cottage the children had made free

with his wallet while he himself lay insensible and their elders were

attending upon him. For myself, I suspect it was the elders who were

curious. But the letter contained no more than this one you have

brought, so their curiosity reaped but little gratification.--Now, are

you to carry my answer to my lord?"

"If your Excellency wishes," said Harry, "but my lord duke told me I

might use another hand if I were fatigued."

"And that you certainly are. You must have come at great speed, and I

will not tax you further. Very well. I am proceeding to Immenstadt;

there I shall await a communication from Vienna, and then go directly

forward to my meeting with the duke. I will acquaint him of my design

by a messenger of my own. Pray refresh yourself now, Monsieur."

In a few minutes the prince drove off with his escort, and Harry enjoyed

a sort of reflected importance. He was given the best the inn could

afford, and provided, after some delay and difficulty--his request was

almost incomprehensible to the landlord--with the luxury of a bath. He

remained in Obermiemingen until the heat of the day had spent itself,

then cantered easily back to Immenstadt, where for the first time for

many days he slept the round of the clock. Reporting himself to Prince

Eugene next morning, he learnt that the expected messenger from Vienna

had not yet arrived, and having nothing to detain him there he started

on the road back. There was no need for hurry; that day he rode seventy

miles, to Riedlingen; then next morning he went on to Urach, where he at

once looked up the amiable lieutenant of the guard who had treated him

so well on his way through.

"You are back then, Monsieur?" said the lieutenant, greeting him

heartily. "I did not tell you before, but the truth is I was not at all

sure you would reach your destination safely."

"And you didn't wish to frighten me! But why, Monsieur?"

"There are bands of marauders in the hills; deserters, broken men, and

what not, ready to snap up any unsuspecting traveller who promises to be

worth it. They have done much damage in the neighbourhood, robbing and

plundering undefended farms and hamlets, and though we are strong enough

here to beat them off we cannot risk an expedition against them, and

Prince Louis of Baden is too much occupied, I suppose, to give any heed

to our requests for assistance."

"Well, Monsieur," said Harry, "I was not ignorant of what you have told

me. And indeed I want to ask your help in a matter not unconnected with

it. Two messengers from my lord Marlborough's army have disappeared

somewhere in these parts; I think I have a clue to their fate, and wish

to follow it up. Can you procure me the services of a stout, sensible

fellow to ride with me?--a man thoroughly to be depended on, and one who

will face danger if need be."

"I know the very man," said the officer instantly; "one Max Berens, who

was servant to a French officer until the beginning of the war, but,

refusing to fight against his own people, is now out of employment. He

is a young fellow, strong, honest, intelligent; I know him well. I will

send for him."

Harry liked the look of Max Berens when he appeared. He reminded him not

a little of Sherebiah, of whom he might have been a younger and a

slighter copy. Max readily accepted Harry's offer of a week's service,

and promised to be ready with horses at seven o'clock that same evening.

At that hour the two rode north towards the wayside inn. On the way

Harry asked Max if he knew anything of the landlord.

"Little enough, Monsieur. He's a sly fellow, and demands high prices;

but there, the same could be said of any innkeeper."

As they drew near the inn they made a detour, and, entering the copse

from the farther side, tied up their horses and came through the trees.

Dusk had already fallen, and as the sky was overcast the evening was

blacker than is usual at the time of year. The inn was in darkness

except for a light in the kitchen. Followed by Max, Harry emerged from

the copse, crossed the road, and rapped smartly on the closed door. It

was opened almost immediately by the landlord himself, who, seeing two

men on foot, and not recognizing Harry in the darkness, said:

"Come in, gentlemen. What are your commands? I will bring a light in a

moment."

Returning with a candle, he now saw who the first of his visitors was,

and looked very uncomfortable.

"I have very little in the house, Excellency----" he began

deprecatingly. Harry cut him short.

"Pray don't be distressed. I left hurriedly--you remember me,

landlord?--and we have a little reckoning to make together. It need not

take long.--Max, stand at the door, and see that our good host and I are

not disturbed.--Now, landlord, we will have a little talk." The kitchen

door was open and the room empty. "This will do quite well; I repeat,

we shall not remain long."

The man looked relieved, Harry thought; but he said nothing, merely

brushing a chair for his visitor. Harry sat down, removed his hat, and

leant back, stretching his legs for comfort after his ride.

"Yes, landlord, I left your house somewhat hurriedly, I fear, and at an

unseemly hour."

The man shot a quick glance at him; but, having now had time to collect

his wits, assumed an air of friendly concern, and began to speak with

great volubility.

"The noble Herr had indeed a miraculous escape. Your excellency will

remember--I told you of the marauders. They are dangerous knaves; they

stick at nothing; only the other day they sacked and burnt a farmhouse

in the hills, and killed all the inmates--man, wife, three children, and

a dozen servants. Glad indeed was I to find that your excellency had

eluded them. They must have spied upon your coming; yes, dangerous

villains, I say. We should have had troops to protect us, but his

highness Prince Louis--whom God defend!--cannot spare a man, it is said,

so hard is he pressed by the French; and we poor Swabians are at the

mercy of these robbers, the offscourings of all the armies. Ah, your

excellency, these are bad times for us poor folk, bad times indeed; not

that it becomes me to complain when our noble rulers think it necessary

to make war; but it is the poor who suffer. It is we who are taxed to

keep the soldiers afoot; the bread is taken out of our children's

mouths; we are murdered and robbed, our houses are plundered and

burned----"

"Except in your case, mein Wirth," said Harry, interrupting the man's

hurried, nervous, inconsequent speech. "You seem very comfortable here;

I see no signs of plunder or burning."

"No, your excellency, they--they--they were disturbed."

"Disturbed!"

"Did I say disturbed? I meant alarmed--alarmed, mein Herr. Your

excellency's escape--for which Heaven be thanked!--caused them to hurry

off;--yes, to hurry off, for, of course, they feared the guard from

Urach; that is how it was: your excellency understands?"

"Perfectly. And which way did they go?"

"Which way, your excellency?" The man's tone was expressive of the

greatest surprise: he was gaining confidence. "How should I know? They

galloped away; that was all I knew----"

"Ah! And where did they get the horses?"

"The horses! the horses! Ah yes! the horses." Mine host was now

floundering desperately. "Why, of course, they caught the horses and

then galloped away--you understand?"

"Excellently. And my horse--you have that in your stable still?"

"Your horse! Yes, of course; it must be there; I will go and saddle it

myself for your excellency."

"Not so fast. There is no hurry, my friend. They caught the horses and

galloped away. And where are they now?"

"What strange questions, Excellency! Where are they now? How should I

know! It is announced they went away towards Ulm: one can never tell

with such wretches: they are here to-day and gone to-morrow. To look

for them would be like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"That's a pity, landlord; I fear you must make up your mind for a long

search."

"A search! I, Excellency?"

"Yes, you. And we will, if you please, start at once."

Harry said this in the same quiet matter-of-fact tone in which he might

have said, "I will have breakfast at eight". The landlord looked

dumbfounded, his head hanging forward, his eyes fixed in a wild stare

upon the face of the visitor. Harry sat up in his chair and spoke very

slowly and distinctly, leaving time for the words to sink in.

"I have come, landlord, either to find our midnight disturbers, or to

deliver you in their stead to the magistrates of Urach. Which it is to

be depends entirely on you. No; it is useless to protest"--the man was

rubbing his hands nervously together, and stammering an

expostulation--"I have the strongest proof that you were associated with

the villains in the trap set for me three nights ago. You can make your

choice between returning with me to Urach, where there is plenty of rope

and a serviceable gallows-frame in the market square; and yielding me

sincere and instant help in the little enquiry I am about to make. I do

not wish to hurry you: you shall have a few minutes to think it over.

Bring me a cup of wine."

The man moved to the cupboard as in a dream. Harry took the cup he

offered, and as he sipped it, watched the landlord return the bottle

mechanically to its place on the shelf, take up a plate and put it down

again, cut half through a loaf of bread and leave the knife in it, flick

imaginary crumbs from the clear table. He looked like a rat in a trap.

He glanced at the window, then at the door, and appeared for a moment to

measure his chances in a struggle. But Harry's air of confident

self-possession, and the knowledge that a sturdy henchman held the door

within a few feet of him, daunted any impulse to active resistance. At

length, drawing a napkin nervously through his fingers, and trying to

assume an air of dignified forbearance, he said:

"I am in your excellency's hands. I protest; but since you doubt me, I

am willing to accompany your excellency to Urach, and prove my innocence

to the magistrates. I am well known in Urach, and permit me to say, I

shall require good compensation when you are forced to admit your

mistake."

"Your expectation shall not be disappointed," said Harry quietly. "We

will, then, start at once."

"But it will be near midnight when we arrive, your excellency being on

foot----"

"You have my horse in your stable, I thought?"

"I was mistaken,--a moment's forgetfulness, mein Herr. The horse--the

other day--I mean----"

"Yes, I understand. Nevertheless, we will start at once."

"But, Excellency, nothing can be done until the morning. If you will

wait----"

"For another visit from your friends? no."

"Not my friends, Excellency. I am an honest man. But as you will. I

will awaken the ostler and leave him in charge of the inn."

He made quickly towards the door, but Harry, who had seen through all

his attempts to gain time and make an opportunity to get away,

interposed.

"Ring your bell there: that will waken him. But you will not leave him

in charge of the house: he will come with us, and your servant also.

The inn shall be shut up, and I doubt not your good fortune in escaping

the attentions of the marauders will still hold. I will give you five

minutes to get ready."

The landlord, seeing that his last hope of communicating with his

friends was gone, recognized that the game was up. His assurance

collapsed; he became merely sullen.

"What is it that your excellency wishes me to do?"

"As I said: first to choose between complying with my demands and facing

a public trial for treason at Urach."

"What are your excellency's demands?"

"First make your choice."

"Your excellency will guarantee my safety if I comply?"

"I cannot answer for that; but I will do what I can."

The man's face gave signs of a final mental struggle; then he said:

"I will do as your excellency wishes."

"A wise choice: it gives you a chance of saving your neck; there is none

at all the other way. A few questions first. How many travellers--let

us say officers of the English army--have you trapped as you tried to

trap me?"

The man hesitated.

"Quick!" cried Harry, "no paltering now. You know the alternative."

"One, your excellency," was the reluctant, sullen admission.

"And what became of the other?"

"He was waylaid on the road."

"The first, or the second?"

"The second."

"And the officer captured here--what was he like? Was he tall or short?"

"He was tall, Excellency, with fair hair and blue eyes. He was always

whistling."

"These officers--where were they taken to?"

"To the hills."

"In what direction?"

"Towards Geislingen."

"Where are they now?"

The man dropped his eyes and fidgeted. He had been growing restive

under this examination; his tone had become more and more sullen.

"I--I don't know, Excellency," he stammered.

"Come, refresh your memory. Remember--they have to be found; I must

have an answer, and an exact description of the spot: out with it!"

The landlord could hardly have looked more uncomfortable if a

thumb-screw had been applied. For a few moments he strove with himself;

then muttered:

"I don't know: the castle of Rauhstein--when I last heard."

"And when was that?"

"Yesterday."

"The castle will not have moved, eh? Where is it?"

"About ten miles away."

"Who owns it?"

"Nobody: it is a ruin. The land belongs to the Graf von Rauhstein."

"But it is not so much a ruin that it cannot shelter your friends. How

many do they number?"

"Two hundred or more."

"What are they?"

"All kinds: soldiers, outlaws--French, Bavarian, Swabian."

"And who commands them?"

"A Bavarian captain: by his speech, a foreigner born."

"That is enough, I think. We will prepare to start."

"To start, Excellency! Whither?"

"For the castle."

"But--but, Excellency," stammered the man, "you do not mean it? You

would not venture there, you and I and two men? You--we--they would

murder us all."

"We must risk that. As for you, your risk will be equally great, or

greater, if you stay here: if the two officers are not safe in Urach by

to-morrow night, a detachment will be sent to arrest you. You

understand?"

The landlord was chapfallen and pallid with mingled fears. On the one

hand, the vengeance of the associates he had been constrained to betray;

on the other, the retribution of the burghers of Urach.

"Excellency," he said falteringly, "I have given you information. You

have promised to guarantee my safety----"

"No," interrupted Harry; "I said I would do what I could."

"I trust to you, Excellency: you will have mercy upon a poor man; in

these days it is hard to live; I did not mean any harm to the officers;

I insisted their persons should not be injured: I was under compulsion,

fearing----"

"Enough!" said Harry, to whom the man's cringing and whining were more

distasteful than his former attitude. "Give my man the key of your

stable: he will saddle your horse. We shall not need to awaken your

servant, after all. You will lead the way to the castle. And one word

before we start: try to mislead us or play us false, and you will be

immediately shot. I give you my word for that. Now, put on your hat."

*CHAPTER XX*

*The Castle of Rauhstein*

The Hidden Way--In the Fosse--Below the Dungeons--Out of the Depths--A

Sleeping Castle--The Stairway in the Keep--Counting the Chickens--The

Battlements--A Breakneck Descent--A Friendly Shower--A Narrow

Margin--Eugene Laughs--A Bold Stroke--Eugene's Double--"Our Good Prince

Eugene"--Mein Wirth as Postilion--An Empty Pistol

It was about nine o'clock, and a dark night, when Harry with his two

companions set off on horseback towards the castle of Rauhstein. When

Harry mentioned their destination to Max, the man said that he had known

the district from boyhood, and was well acquainted with the castle and

its precincts, so that it was unnecessary to take the landlord as guide.

But the latter could not be left to himself except under lock and key,

and Harry decided that it would be at once safer and more convenient to

have him with them. Max led the way along a horse-track that zigzagged

over the limestone hills, Harry followed with the landlord, their horses

being securely linked together. Harry had unbuttoned his holsters,

displaying two pistols; the sight of them, he felt, would keep the

landlord on his good behaviour.

The track was tortuous, skirting rugged spurs of rock, crossing narrow

ravines, and here and there a mountain brook, passing through black

clumps of beech forest that dotted the slope. The riders were

surrounded by a vast silence, broken only by the cries of night birds

and the croak of frogs in the pools. The horses' shoes clicked on the

hard ground; it would clearly not be safe to approach too close to the

castle on horseback, and as they rode Harry quietly asked the landlord

how the ruin was situated, and whether there was any cover within a

secure distance. He learnt that the castle was built against the

hill-side, so that it was inaccessible from the rear; it was almost

wholly in ruins, but the keep and one or two adjacent parts had been

recently made habitable by the marauders. There was a fosse, now dry;

the drawbridge had disappeared, and was replaced by a rough bridge of

planks. The landlord knew of no entrance but this; it was guarded day

and night, but no watch was kept on any other part of the building.

There were no trees in the immediate neighbourhood of the castle, but

about half a mile before it was reached an extensive plantation of beech

covered a valley to the right of the track, and in this the horses could

be left.

It was past eleven before the three riders reached the beech plantation.

There alighting, they tied their horses to trees well within the clump,

and proceeded on foot. It occurred to Harry that if the animals chanced

to whinny they might be heard by any member of the garrison who happened

to be without the walls; but Max told him that the two tracks leading to

the castle from the Urach highroad were both a considerable distance to

right and left of the hill path by which they had come, so that there

was little fear of such an untoward accident.

They climbed up the path in silence, the darkness being so deep that

they could not distinguish the outline of anything more than a few yards

away. It was therefore almost unawares that Max himself, for all his

knowledge of the country, came upon the main road into which the track

ran, about a quarter of a mile from the castle. Here he stopped.

"Monsieur," he said, "I heard what the landlord said to you. It is all

true; but though he speaks only of the entrance by the plank bridge, I

know, and he may know too, of another--one that I discovered by chance,

rambling here with some comrades many years ago. It is a small broken

doorway opening from the fosse, much overgrown with bush and trees, and

indeed so well hidden that I almost doubt whether I could find it after

this long time."

"Well, Max, you must try. I don't want you to go into the castle

yourself: I suppose you have not seen it since the marauders have

sheltered there?"

"No, Monsieur."

"Then I must go myself. The fosse is dry, you say?"

"Yes, Monsieur."

"Then we can all three go down into it, and the landlord and I will

remain hidden while you search for the secret entrance. Whither does it

lead?"

"To a tunnel that rises gradually up the hill, and enters the castle

near the dungeons below the keep."

"Lead on, then. We will go to the left, and walk warily to escape the

ears of the sentry at the gate."

In a few minutes they came to the edge of the fosse. They clambered

carefully down, assisting their steps by the young trees which thickly

covered the steep side. When they reached the bottom, Max went forward

by himself to explore. His movements caused a rustle, but being

followed by the scurrying of rabbits disturbed in the brake, such slight

customary noises were not likely to alarm the sentry, even if he should

near them.

Harry had his hand on the landlord's wrist as they waited minute after

minute. Max was gone a long time. All was silent now save for the

murmurs of birds and the chirping of insects. At length, after what

seemed to Harry's impatience hours of delay, the man groped his way

back, and whispered:

"I have found it, Monsieur."

"That is well. Now lead us to it."

"You will not take me into the castle, Excellency?" murmured the

landlord in affright.

"Have no fear. Be silent."

The three went into the tangled mass of tree and shrub, and Max had no

difficulty now in taking a pretty direct path to the opening of the

tunnel. When the bushes were pulled aside, they revealed to the

touch--for to see was impossible--an arch of crumbling brickwork not

more than five feet high. Evidently a man could not walk upright

through the tunnel.

"Did you ever get into the castle this way?" asked Harry.

"Yes, Monsieur, but it was fifteen years ago."

"So that the tunnel may be blocked now?"

"Certainly."

"Or it may be the haunt of wild beasts?"

"Nothing wilder than rabbits, I should think."

"Well, it is not too pleasant a task to crawl through there in the dark,

but it must be done. Now, Max, you will return to the place where we

left our horses; the landlord will go with you. Here is one of my

pistols; you know what to do with it if need be. Wait for me there: if

I do not come to you within say a couple of hours, ride to Urach, and

tell the lieutenant of the guard what has happened."

Max hesitated.

"Let me go, Monsieur," he said. "Why should you run into the jaws of

danger? They are desperate men, these brigands."

"Thank you, Max! but it is my task. Do my bidding, my good fellow; I

have counted the cost."

He waited until the two men had crept away; then, crushing the feeling

of eeriness that affected him in spite of himself, he bent his head and

went forward into the tunnel. There was at once a scurry of animals

past his legs; he felt the furry coats and tails of rabbits brush his

hands; but he went slowly forward, touching the wall at his right to

guide himself, and wondering how long the tunnel was, and whether there

was enough air to carry him through to the end. The atmosphere was

stuffy, with mingled smells so nauseating that Harry quickened his pace,

eager to escape into purer air again. He had not thought to count his

steps when he first entered the tunnel, but began to do so after taking

about a dozen. At the fortieth of his counting the wall to his right

came to an end. He stopped, and, raising his hand above his head, found

that it was not obstructed by the roof: he had evidently come to the end

of the passage. He stood upright and listened; he could hear nothing.

Extending his arms, he found that he was in a narrow passage. Max had

said that the tunnel led below the keep: there must, then, be a

staircase somewhere. Harry went cautiously forward, stopping at every

few steps to listen, and placing his feet with great care to avoid

coming unawares upon some obstacle. At length his foot touched what

felt like a stone step in front of him; another moment, and he was sure

he had come to the expected staircase. It was pitch dark; he mounted

carefully, and found that the stairs wound round and round. He had just

counted fifteen steps, when his head came into violent contact with

something above. The blow brought tears to his eyes, and he rubbed his

head vigorously, as he had been wont to do after a knock in his childish

days.

Feeling with his hands, he discovered that the staircase was roofed over

with stone. It appeared to be a slab let down into sockets; yet no, on

the left side there was a space of about a finger-width between the

stone and the wall, on the right there was no such space. He paused;

the stone was so broad that to lift it was clearly impossible; it had

never been intended to be moved from below. He bent his head, hitched

his left shoulder, and shoved hard against the stone. It did not yield

by the smallest interval. For a moment he was puzzled. Then a possible

explanation of the space between the stone and the wall at the left

occurred to him. Perhaps the stone moved on a pivot? He went to the

other side and set his right shoulder to it. At first he felt no

yielding; but exerting all his strength he shoved again, the stone

slowly gave, and with continued pressure moved over until it came to a

vertical position, leaving space enough for his body to pass through.

He ascended, keeping his hand on the stone to prevent it from falling

back noisily into its place, clambered on to the floor above, let the

stone carefully down, and stood up to collect himself before proceeding

farther.

Now that he had come thus far, he felt a chill shrinking from what lay

before him. He was alone in a strange place, within a few feet of

desperate and unscrupulous ruffians, who would kill him with no more

compunction than they would spit a hare. The unknown peril might well

give the bravest pause. But a thought of his duty stilled his tremors.

He had a duty of service to Marlborough, and a duty of friendship to

Fanshawe; remembering them, he steeled his soul.

If his hazardous visit was to prove of any service he must discover the

nature and position of the defences. He knew little about the

construction of castles, but Max had said that the entrance led to the

keep, which was the only part of the ruin still habitable. The inmates

must therefore be somewhere near him, and it behoved him to move warily.

He was apparently in a stone-flagged passage. He took off his boots and

slung them round his neck; then went forward a few steps, and came upon

another passage at right angles, the farther end being faintly lit as

from a distance. Stealing down this, he saw on his right hand the

arched entrance to what was clearly the great hall of the keep, a long

bare chamber illuminated by two or three smoky candles. Along the walls

lay a number of men, sleeping on mattresses, cloaks, bundles of straw.

At the farther end was a large table, at which two men were seated,

bending forward with heads on their crossed arms, as though dozing. The

table was covered with pots and tankards and metal plates. Taking this

in at one swift glance, Harry turned to see what lay in the other

direction.

A few feet from him was the bottom of another winding stair, which, he

conjectured, led to the top of the keep. In the wall to his right there

was a narrow opening giving on the courtyard, where he heard the

movements of many horses. He was wondering whether, finding the doorway

into the courtyard, he might venture to steal across it and explore the

other side, when he heard voices from the hall behind him. Quick as

thought he slipped back into the dark passage he had first entered, and

waited there with beating heart. Peeping round the corner, he saw two

men--doubtless the two who had been bending over the table--pass as if

towards the staircase. He heard their spurred boots ringing on the

stones, and knew by the sounds that they were ascending the stairs, to

relieve guard, he guessed, at the top of the keep. There was evidently

nothing to be discovered by remaining where he was; if he followed the

men he might find a means of exploring the upper part of the fortress.

He ran lightly along the passage, and began the ascent of the winding

stair, finding himself soon in total darkness. But after about a dozen

steps the staircase began to be faintly illuminated from above. Harry

paused for a moment to listen. He heard nothing but the footsteps of

the men who had preceded him, and was just going on when, through a

loophole in the wall to his right, he heard the clatter of a horse's

hoofs and the shout of a man. He held his breath and stood still. The

horse had evidently just come over the bridge and through the archway

into the courtyard. There were now sounds of many voices below; the

hoof-beats suddenly ceased, and shortly afterwards Harry heard hurried

footsteps on the stone passage he had lately left, and voices growing in

volume and echoing in the circular space of the winding stair. Several

men were ascending. If he remained where he was he must inevitably be

detected; his only course was to continue his ascent. But he had not

taken three steps before he heard footsteps above him; the sentry who

had been relieved was coming down. His heart was in his mouth. But the

men below were the nearer; there was just a chance that if he went

higher he might come upon some temporary hiding-place, and in his

stocking feet he made no sound that would betray him.

Up then he went; the light was becoming stronger; and a turn of the

staircase brought him opposite the doorway through which it shone. The

door was gone. He hesitated but for a moment; below and above him the

footsteps were perilously near; on the wall of the room he saw two long

military cloaks hanging to the floor; they would conceal him. Peeping

into the room, he noted with one rapid glance a smoky guttering candle

and a figure recumbent on a mattress. He went in on tiptoe, and slipped

behind the cloaks. The slight rustle he made disturbed the slumbering

man.

"Qui va la?" came the sleepy question.

Harry stood still as a stone, and felt his heart thumping against his

ribs.

"Qui va la?" repeated the voice in a louder tone, and by the increased

light in the narrow crack between the cloak and the wall Harry guessed

that the man had risen on his elbow and snuffed the candle. An

answering voice came from the doorway.

"Sebald Schummel, mon capitaine."

"Ah! Bien! Donnez-moi de vos nouvelles."

Harry felt a cold shiver down his back, and an impulse to pull aside the

cloak and confirm by sight the evidence of his hearing. The voice was

the voice of Captain Aglionby. Here was a discovery indeed. But he had

scarcely time even to be surprised, for he was listening intently to a

conversation that absorbed all his thought.

"The prince has arrived in Urach," said the new-comer. "He leaves at

five in the morning on his way to Stuttgart. He travels by coach."

"Ah! what is his escort?"

"Two aides-de-camp and thirty dragoons, mon capitaine."

"A bagatelle! The game is ours!"

"Yes, mon capitaine," said another voice; "he will not easily escape

us."

"Parbleu! He shall not. You are sure of the hour, Sebald?"

"Yes, Monsieur; and I have left a trusty man to send us word if it is

altered."

"He is not likely to change his route?"

"There is no reason for it, mon capitaine, and our men are watching

every road."

"Good! Your news is welcome, Sebald. Go and eat; I will consult with

Monsieur le Lieutenant here; you shall have your orders by and by."

Two or three men left the room, and the captain was alone with his

lieutenant and Harry. The latter had already heard enough to set all

his wits on the alert. The conversation that ensued, though carried on

by both the speakers in continuance of a former discussion, gave Harry

little trouble to understand. It was evident that the marauders under

Captain Aglionby's lead were planning to intercept Prince Eugene on his

way to meet Marlborough, and Harry listened with a flutter at the heart

as all the details were arranged. The ambuscaders, divided into three

bands, were to station themselves at a point about two miles north of

the wayside inn, where the road narrowed. Two of the bands were to

conceal themselves in the woods on either side of the road, the third

some distance behind them, towards the inn, to cut off any escape

rearwards.

"Monsieur le Prince will sleep hard to-morrow," said Aglionby with a

chuckle, when he had arranged the composition of the bands. "Now, as we

must start in an hour or two, do you go down and rouse the men; I will

follow in a minute and give them their orders. What sort of night is

it?"

"Dull, with a threat of rain."

"Ah! we shall want our cloaks. Well, rouse the men; our bird will have

his feathers clipped long ere this to-morrow."

Harry had gone cold at the mention of the cloaks, and gripped his

pistol. But the lieutenant went from the room without disturbing him,

and Aglionby shortly afterwards followed. Harry heaved a silent sigh of

relief, waited until the sound of his footsteps had quite died away,

then left his hiding-place and hastened to the staircase.

He was in no doubt what to do. To descend, now that the garrison was

awakened, would be to court instant detection. The alternative was to

go higher up the keep, and endeavour to find some way of escape over the

ruined battlements. He mounted a few steps; the moon had risen, and her

light, fitfully shining between masses of flying scud in the sky, lit up

the staircase through the narrow openings at intervals in the wall. A

few steps more, and on his right Harry saw a low doorway, this also

without a door, leading directly on to the battlements. He peered up the

outer wall of the keep, and saw that a sentinel at the top must almost

certainly descry a figure moving along below. But escape he must;

Prince Eugene must be warned in time, and Urach was several miles away.

He longed for a friendly cloud to obscure the moon while he made a dash;

and, pat to his wish, a dark mass of thunderous density cut off every

gleam. Without another moment's delay Harry sprang on to the broken

masonry, and, taking sure foothold in his stocking feet, ran towards a

tower at the left-hand corner of the enceinte, hoping there to find an

exit. The upper part of the tower was almost wholly in ruins, but the

lower part was in good preservation, and to his disappointment Harry

found that the only doorway led into the courtyard, in which he already

heard the bustle of preparation. There was nothing for it but to pursue

his way along the battlements to the tower at the right-hand rear

corner. Entering this, he discovered a postern on the outer wall. It

was twenty feet above the summit of a steep slope leading to the level

ground a hundred yards away. Harry looked out, and saw that below the

postern the masonry had crumbled and fallen, and was now covered with

undergrowth and ivy clinging to the tower wall. To make his descent

here he would have to risk a broken limb, perhaps a broken neck, but

there was no other means of exit that he could discover, and it was

necessary that he should get quickly away with Max and the landlord

before the marauding band rode out. Clinging to a strong tendril of

ivy, he leapt on to a precarious corner of broken brickwork, lost his

footing, checked his fall by clutching at a shrub, found a firmer

foothold a little below, and so made the complete descent to the edge of

the slope, where he stayed his progress by again grasping the ivy.

The air was warm and close, foreboding thunder, and by this time Harry

was bathed in sweat. He rested for a few moments at the foot of the

wall. The jagged masonry had cut holes in his stockings and made his

feet bleed. Between him and level ground was a steep declivity of

almost bare rock, so precipitous that to walk down it was impossible, to

run dangerous. He pulled on his boots, lay on his back, and slid down

feet foremost, with some bumps and bruises, but with more serious injury

to his apparel. As he reached the level a loud rumble of thunder broke

above him, and he felt the first large spots of a shower. He was far

from the place where he had left his companions, and to reach it he

would have to cross the direct road to the castle gate. To avoid

discovery it seemed best to creep down into the dry overgrown fosse, and

steal his way along until he gained the spot on the other side of the

plank bridge where he had descended to find the tunnel. Even under the

bridge the vegetation was rank and thick enough to conceal him, and he

had no fear of his movements being heard, for the rain was now pattering

fast. This, then, he did; in a few minutes he came to the place where

he had parted with Max, and, scrambling up the side of the fosse, struck

into the road and hastened towards the trees. He wandered for some time

among them without finding the men of whom he was in search, and at

length risked a low call.

"Is that you, Monsieur?" came the reply in Max's voice from near at

hand.

"Ah! I was afraid I had lost you. Have you the landlord safe?"

"Yes, Monsieur. I had almost given you up."

"Lead out the horses. We must get to Urach as quickly as possible. And

not by the road: do you know a way across the hills?"

"Yes, but it will be difficult to find in the dark, and hark to the

rain!"

"Yes, it is raining hard, but you must try to find the way; I dare not

risk the road. Lead on, Max; I will follow you with the landlord."

Max led his horse through the wood, the others close behind him.

Crossing the road, he entered a narrow ravine, left this at a cleft on

the right, and taking a tortuous course, rising continually, he came

after some twenty minutes to the crest of a rocky hill.

"It is all right, Monsieur," he said. "The way is easier now and we can

mount. The rain is over, too."

"Well for us! Now, Max, at your best pace, provided it is not

neck-breaking."

The three set off, the landlord uttering many groans and lamentations as

he jolted in his saddle. Harry did not address him; he had too much to

think of. If, as Aglionby's messenger had said, there were spies in

Urach and around, it was likely that the entrance of three riders into

the town at so late an hour would be noticed, and might awaken

suspicion. Harry's wish was not merely to foil the ambuscade, but to

turn the tables on the ambuscaders. As he rode he decided what to do.

"Max," he said, riding alongside of the man where a difficult part of

the track caused a slackening of the pace; "Max, tell me when we come

within about half a mile of the town; we will halt there."

"We leave the hills and strike the road at that distance, Monsieur."

"Very well; we will stop before we reach the road."

It was two o'clock in the morning when the three riders came to a halt

within a little dell concealed from the road by an intervening hillock.

"Remain here with the landlord and my horse, Max," said Harry. "I am

going on foot to the town."

At the gate-house he gave the password and was at once admitted. He

went to the lodging of the lieutenant of the guard, woke him, and told

him in a few words what he had discovered.

"Mon Dieu!" cried the lieutenant, "you are just in time. The prince

decided last night to hasten his going; he sets off at four. He will

have to remain here, or go back, for his escort are no match for these

brigands, even with our burgher guard, who in any case are not permitted

to leave the town. The prince must either wait here until he can get a

force from Prince Louis of Baden, or try another road."

"The roads are watched. But I think the prince had better carry out his

original intention and leave here at five."

"But he will certainly be captured."

"Not certainly. I should like to see him. I left Max and that rascal

of a landlord half a mile out. The town is quiet; do you think it will

be safe to send for them?"

"Oh yes! I will do that. You will find the prince at the Rathhaus."

"Will you lend me a change of things while mine are drying?"

"Of course! The sleeves of my coat will be short for you, I fear, but

you will not need it long."

To change was but the work of a few minutes; then Harry hastened to the

Rathhaus. The guard made some demur to admitting him at such an hour,

but yielded when he assured them that his message was urgent, and he was

conducted to an aide-de-camp, who on hearing his story in outline did

not scruple to awaken the prince. Harry was not prepared for the

reception his news met with. The prince broke into a roar of laughter.

"A right tit-for-tat for the Duke de Vendome," he said. "Two can play at

coney-catching! You are surprised at my levity, young sir; but the

truth is, I tried to play the same game on the duke two years ago:

attempted to seize him in his house at Rivalto on the banks of the Lake

of Mantua. I sent fifty men in boats to capture him; but they killed

the sentinel instead of carrying him off, as I intended; the noise drew

the guard to the spot, and my men had to re-embark to save their skins.

Well, in war let him trick the other who can: I am obliged to you for

your warning. Un homme averti en vaut deux: we'll be even with the

tricksters. What shall we do, lieutenant?"

"It would seem that we must take another road, Monsieur le Prince," said

the aide-de-camp.

"Ma foi, non; we'll cut our way through them. I never turned back on my

enemy yet."

"They are too many, your highness. Your thirty men could not cut their

way through two hundred."

"Then we must go another way."

"They have spies on the roads, Monsieur," said Harry. "Your highness

would have to make a wide detour, and that would give the brigands

plenty of time to sweep round and intercept you. If I might suggest a

plan that occurred to me----"

"Go on."

"It is that your highness's coach should set off at the time arranged,

attended by a portion of your escort----"

"Empty?"

"Not so, Monsieur. A man might take your highness's place. The

brigands would imagine their scheme was prospering; the scouts would be

drawn off; and after an interval your highness with the remainder of the

escort could safely take the western road and be well on the way to

Stuttgart before the trick was discovered."

"Aha! And who is to personate me? Not yourself? You have too great an

advantage of me in inches."

"My ambition is less, your highness. I have a man of about your height;

if you would deign to let him wear your wig, hat, and cloak for a few

hours, I think he would make a personable copy of your highness."

The prince laughed.

"Well, you have a ready wit, my lad. But it would be running into the

jaws of the wolves; I should lose half my escort and my coach, and you

and your man your lives. They would not spare you when they learnt how

you had tricked them."

"It would be a cheap purchase of your highness's safety. Besides, I

think we might manage to escape the wolves, as your highness is pleased

to call them."

"Indeed! Come, you are a young strategist; what have you in your mind?"

"To get into the castle, Monsieur le Prince, while the greater part of

the brigands are absent, and to hold it until a force can be sent from

Stuttgart to our assistance."

"A bold scheme, by my faith! What reason have you to suppose you could

surprise the castle? It will not be left unguarded."

Then Harry gave a rapid narrative of what had happened since his

adventure at the inn. Prince Eugene listened with close attention, his

eyes lighting up with excitement and pleasure as he heard the details of

the plan Harry had thought out as he rode from the castle.

"Parbleu!" he exclaimed at the end, "a bold scheme indeed, one after my

own heart; I should like of all things to be with you in it. And you

think my cousin Marlborough's two messengers are now in the castle?"

"I have no doubt of it, your highness; and as one of them is an old

friend of my own, I have a strong personal reason for making the

attempt."

"Well, I will not stay you. Rather I will say, Good luck to you! You

deserve to succeed. I make no doubt that I shall be able to send you

from Stuttgart a squadron or two of Prince Louis of Baden's horse, and

if you and they can annihilate this pestilent band of outlaws you will

do a service to the Emperor--a service that I shall take care is not

forgotten. Time is pressing; my valet shall give you the suit I wore

yesterday; I shall not need to trouble your man to lend me his in

exchange, as I have another with me--a plain costume that will tell no

tales. Ma foi! I could wish that for the next twelve hours he were

Eugene of Savoy and I--what is his name?"

"Max Berens, Monsieur."

"Write his name, Lieutenant; if he were a courtier he would doubtless be

content with the bare honour of filling my clothes for the nonce, but

being a sensible man he will prefer a more tangible recompense. I shall

see to it. Well, you have woke me from sleep, Monsieur; now I will ask

you to leave me while I dress. And as we must be secret about this

disguise, lest there be spies in the town, I shall not see you again

until I meet you, as I hope to do, in my lord Marlborough's camp. Send

your man here; I will take care that he is treated with the deference

becoming his rank. Ha! ha! it is an excellent joke."

Harry went away delighted with the readiness with which the prince had

entered into the spirit of his scheme. It was full of danger; he was

under no illusion as to that; but this lent an additional zest to the

adventure; he had thought out his plan carefully, and reckoned on

finding an invaluable coadjutor in the landlord.

At five o'clock, in the cool of a fine morning, the prince's gilded

coach drew up at the door of the Rathhaus, with fifteen dragoons in full

riding trim. A carpet was spread from the entrance across the path to

the coach, and one of the town officials stood in waiting to show the

great man to his seat. By and by a figure in cocked hat, full wig,

laced coat, and corslet came out with a fair counterfeit of Eugene's

active gait; he gave a somewhat stiff acknowledgment of the salutes of

the soldiers and the respectful obeisance of the local magnates and the

crowd of interested townspeople, and stepped quickly into the coach.

Harry followed him. The door was shut, the word given to the two

postilions, and amid the cheers of all Urach the vehicle rattled over

the stones, out at the gate, into the open highway. No one but the

principals in the little drama, and the fifteen picked men of the

escort, knew that the man to whom they had just shown such deference was

not Eugene of Savoy, a prince of a sovereign house, but Max Berens, the

simple son of a shoemaker.

Harry had been at the pains to drill his companions in the part they

were to play. He had learnt from Max that there were two roads leading

from the main highway to the castle. Of these the one nearest to Urach

was the better; it branched off about a mile on the town side of the

inn. The other was a more circuitous and difficult track across the

hills, leaving the highroad at a point rather more distant from the inn

on the farther side, and only a few yards from the spot chosen for the

ambuscade. Between the two cross-roads the highway took a somewhat

irregular course, and while it was visible from point to point, only a

few yards of the intervening portion could be seen from either of the

by-roads, owing to its windings and the undulations of the ground. When

the coach, therefore, should arrive at the first road it would be

descried by the ambuscaders, but would then disappear from their view,

not becoming visible again until a short distance before it reached

them. On this fact Harry reckoned for the successful accomplishment of

the first part of his scheme.

A mile out of Urach, Harry found the landlord awaiting him in charge of

one of the town guard. He was taken into the coach, which then drove

rapidly on. On arriving at the cross-road, instead of going straight

forward towards the inn and the ambush, it swung round to the right, and

at Harry's orders the postilions whipped up the horses and drove at a

headlong pace towards the castle. The actual turning could not be seen

from the place of the ambuscade, and Harry confidently expected that the

brigands, having caught sight of the coach the moment before it left the

road, would await its coming without suspicion. Its non-appearance

after a time would surprise them; they might suppose it had stopped at

the inn to bait the horses; they would allow for this, and a

considerable time would elapse before they discovered the truth. This

interval would, he hoped, give him so long a start that he would have

ample time to play his trick upon the garrison.

About half a mile from the castle, Harry ordered the postilions and

escort to halt at a spot where they were hidden from the garrison by a

stretch of rising ground. He then dismounted four of the dragoons, bade

them get into the coach, and made the landlord change places with the

postilion on one of the sear horses. In his hand he placed an empty

pistol.

"When we drive on," he said, "you will point that at the back of the

postilion in front of you, and look as grim as you please. When we come

within earshot of the sentry at the bridge--I will give the word--you

will shout to him to let us through quickly: 'Here we are!' you will

cry. I have let down the window, you observe; Berens will be a few feet

behind you with a loaded pistol: you understand?"

Then turning to the eleven dragoons who were still on horseback, he

said:

"Now, men, you know your part. Wait till we are over the bridge, then

gallop up at full speed with sabres drawn and pistols cocked, ready for

anything."

"What about the four horses, Herr Capitan?" asked one of the troopers.

"We must leave them. Tie their heads together and string them to that

tree yonder: we may get them by and by; if not, the coach horses will

serve. Now; all ready! Drive on, landlord."

The two postilions--the foremost a stalwart dragoon--whipped up the

horses, which dashed forward at a furious gallop towards the castle. It

was a tight squeeze in the coach--Harry, Max, and the four big troopers

jammed together in a narrow space.

"Level your pistol, landlord!" cried Harry.

The pale perspiring landlord held his harmless weapon in his left hand,

covered by the loaded pistol of Max in the coach. On they drove,

ploughing up the soil heavy with last night's rain, the horses straining

at the traces. They were within thirty yards of the bridge.

"Shout, landlord!" said Harry in a loud whisper through the open window.

"Here we are! here we are!" cried the man.

"Louder!"

"Here we are!" He almost shrieked the words.

"The others are behind!" prompted Harry.

"The others are behind!" cried the landlord.

The sentry at the farther end of the bridge gave an answering shout; the

boards that served for a gate were removed; the coach clattered and

rumbled over the rocking creaking planks, and the postilions pulled up

their reeking horses in the courtyard of the castle.

*CHAPTER XXI*

*Across the Fosse*

Shoulder to Shoulder--Wrecking the Bridge--Well Found--The Dungeons of

Rauhstein--The Castle Cook--The Enemy's Plan--Unwilling Help--A

Parley--The Bridge Builders--At Short

Range--Supper--Counsel--Fireworks--Long Odds--A Rush--From a Sling--A

Covered Way--Firing the Train--Shambles

The shouting and the clatter of the coach had drawn the garrison into

the courtyard. From these twenty men, the remnant of the brigand band,

a great cheer went up, and they pressed forward eagerly to see the

princely captive. Two or three of them were unarmed, but the rest, with

the habit of seasoned warriors, had their swords in their belts and

carbines slung at their shoulders.

"Well done, Otto!" cried one, slapping the landlord on the back.

But at that moment both doors of the coach were flung open, and out of

each sprang a man with a pistol in the left hand and a sword in the

right. These were followed by others, and before the astonished

garrison realized the situation, six fully armed men were among them,

and one, a tall, dark, lissom young fellow, all fire and energy, was

calling on them to surrender. A few, cowed by the pistols pointed

within a foot of their heads, and taken utterly aback by this astounding

change of scene, flung down their carbines from sheer inability to

think; but the more nimble-witted, and those on the outskirts of the

little group, scurried away, under cover of their comrades, out of

range, unslinging their carbines and drawing their swords as they ran.

Meanwhile the foremost postilion, in obedience to orders previously

given by Harry, whipped up his horses and drove them at a gallop round

the courtyard, narrowly escaping a bullet from the carbine of one of the

garrison, until he came opposite the gateway, where he drew up so as to

present the side of the coach to the opening, and cut the traces. The

garrison, having by this time perceived by how small a body they were

confronted, came forward in a compact mass against the little band.

Carbines cracked, pistols flashed, steel rang on steel, and with shouts

and oaths the two bands engaged. Harry was not in this mellay, for in

the confusion he had slipped away and rushed through the archway, just

in time to see the sentry striving with might and main to hurl the

planks of the bridge into the fosse. He had caught sight of eleven

dragoons in Austrian uniform galloping up from the valley half a mile

away. The man turned as he heard Harry's approach, snatched up his

sword, which he had dropped for his work with the planks, and threw

himself into his guard in the nick of time to meet the attack. Harry

felt that it was not a moment for fine sword-play; the man was a burly

fellow, clumsy, and to appearance dull of wits. Running a risk which

would be fatal if his opponent were a keen swordsman, Harry gave him an

opening. It was instantly accepted, but the thrust was parried with

lightning rapidity, and before the man could recover himself Harry's

sword had ploughed a deep furrow in his forearm, and with a yell of pain

he let his own weapon fall to the ground. Stepping back at the same

moment with the instinct of self-preservation, he tumbled headlong into

the fosse.

Immediately Harry wheeled round and dashed back to the support of his

men, now engaged in a desperate and unequal battle. Their backs to the

coach, they were facing dauntlessly thrice their number of infuriated

brigands, who had discarded their firearms and came to the attack with

swords flashing in ever-narrowing circles. One of the dragoons had

already fallen; but his comrades were all tough soldiers tried on many a

battle-field, recking nothing of the odds, every man with full

confidence in himself and his fellows. They were ranged in a quarter

circle against the coach, with just enough space between them to allow

free play with their weapons. Twice already had they beaten back the

enemy; a third and more determined onslaught had somewhat broken their

formation, and two men had been wounded and forced back, exposing the

flank of the others. Harry sprang through the coach just in time to

close the gap. He hurled himself into the fray with a shout; the enemy,

taking him for the advance-guard of reinforcements, fell back for a

moment; and before they could recover and return to the charge there was

a thunderous clatter on the bridge, the eleven troopers flung themselves

from their steeds, and scrambling man by man through the coach gave

threefold strength to the hard-pressed line.

"Charge!" shouted Harry in his clear, ringing voice.

The men surged forward with a roar of exultation, scattering the

brigands to the limits of the courtyard. Two or three bolted like

rabbits into the keep; the rest cried for quarter and flung down their

arms; the din of battle suddenly ceased, and some seventeen

panic-stricken prisoners were the prize of the victors.

"Max, go into the keep, up the stairs to the top, and tell me what you

see."

From the parapet of the keep Max shouted that he saw a large troop of

horse not a mile away, galloping amain towards the castle.

"Men, with me!" cried Harry.

Twelve dragoons sprang through the coach after him, and with haste

helped him to draw the planks of the bridge within the archway. They

had completed their task save for the last plank when the foremost files

of the enemy galloped up, checking their horses at the very brink when

they saw the unbridged gap before them; no horse could cross on a

two-foot plank. Harry withdrew his men just in time to escape the

bullets fired at them by the baulked and enraged brigands. At the last

moment he himself stooped, lifted the end of the plank, and hurled it

into the fosse. A slug whizzed past his head; he dashed back under the

archway, through the coach, breathless but safe.

As he stepped through the coach into the courtyard he heard a groan.

His wounded men had been carried into the keep; at the moment no trooper

was near. Bending down, he looked beneath the coach, and saw the

landlord lying flat on his face, his head buried in his arms, groaning

dismally.

"Are you hit, landlord?" asked Harry.

"Lord have mercy on my soul!" groaned the man.

"Never mind your soul; are your limbs sound? Come out, and let me look

at you."

A palpitating mass crawled from beneath the vehicle. Dirty, chap-fallen,

and dishevelled, but unhurt, the landlord stood in trembling and pitiful

cowardice.

"Where are you hurt? Come, I've no time to waste. Why," he added, as he

turned the man round and examined him, "you haven't a scratch. You're a

pretty consort of ruffians! Get away into the keep and make yourself

useful, or----"

The man scrambled away in limp despair, and Harry smiled grimly as he

went about his pressing task.

He knew that he was safe for a time. The two hundred men outside were

completely cut off from their quarters. "If they want their castle they

must come and take it," thought Harry. They could only enter by one of

three ways: the main entrance, if they repaired the bridge--but that

could be prevented by marksmen within; the tunnel--but that could be

blocked up; the tower by which he himself had escaped--but one or two

men there could easily prohibit access by the slope and postern. Harry

set a sentinel at each point, and then made a rapid survey of the

position.

He found that the castle contained, besides a huge quantity of plunder,

a plentiful stock of provisions, arms, and ammunition. There were

indeed many bags of powder ranged carelessly around the walls of the

courtyard, and these Harry had removed to a more secure place in one of

the towers, and covered with sacking. He then went up on the

battlements to see what the enemy were about. They had withdrawn to a

knoll at some distance and dismounted, and an exciting discussion

appeared to be going on among their leaders. Harry called to Max to

remain on the look-out and report any fresh movement among them; then he

prepared to visit the dungeons.

The prisoners had been secured in the hall of the keep.

"Which of you acts as warder?" asked Harry, entering the hall.

"Zooks! if it an't young Mr. Rochester!" said an amazed voice in

English. "I be the warder, Mr. Rochester."

"You, John Simmons! Now, answer me quickly: are there any prisoners

below?"

"There be two, sir, certainly, and I was against it--that's the truth,

sir; I was against it, but the capt'n he would cool their courage, he

said, and what could I do, sir?--though it did cut me to the heart to

serve Mr. Fanshawe so----"

"Hold your tongue, knave! Take me to the place at once."

"I was against it," muttered the man, as he led the way out of the hall,

through the stone passage, into a room near the spot at which Harry had

ascended from the tunnel. Here he lifted a slab in the floor, and let

down a rope ladder, coiled beneath it, into a pit of blackness.

"They are there?" exclaimed Harry in horror, as he peered down, and

found himself unable to discern anything.

"I was against it," murmured Simmons again.

"The inhuman fiends!" cried Harry. "Fanshawe, are you there?" he called

into the mouth of the dungeon, his voice echoing strangely from the

hollow.

"Yes," came the faint answer. "Who are you?"

"'Tis Harry Rochester, old fellow. We'll have you out in a trice,--and

Lieutenant Buckley, too; is he with you?"

"Ay. Is the ladder down?"

"Yes. Come along; we're all friends here."

Soon Fanshawe's fair head appeared above the hole. Harry caught his arm

and helped him to step on to the floor.

"God bless you, Harry!" he said feebly. His cheeks were drawn and pale;

his eyes sunken and haggard; his hair was dank and disordered; and he

tottered and would have fallen but for Harry's sustaining arm. After

him came a young officer whom Harry did not know. He, too, showed signs

of suffering, but his incarceration was shorter by several days than

Fanshawe's, and he was not so much overcome by the sudden return to

light and liberty.

"Poor old fellow!" said Harry, linking his arm in Fanshawe's. "Come and

let me make you comfortable. I'll tell you all about things by and by,

and hear what you have to tell. We must get you right first. Aglionby

shall pay for this!"

The two luckless prisoners were taken to the hall and given food.

"I've fed 'em twice a day reg'lar," said Simmons. "They ha'n't wanted

for nothing, and I was against keeping 'em shut in that there damp and

foul hole."

"Silence, fellow! Go and bury the men killed in the fight. Then come

to me."

Having made Fanshawe and Buckley as comfortable as possible, Harry

selected one of his own men to act as store-keeper, and then, as a

sudden idea struck him, called for the landlord. The man could not at

first be found, but after some search was discovered and hauled with

many gibes into Harry's presence.

"Cease whimpering and listen to me," said Harry. "You must do something

to earn your food. You shall be cook. Doubtless you know the

arrangements of this place; go and prepare a good meal for the men, and

do your best; it will be to your interest."

Ascending then to the top of the keep, he sent Max down to get some

breakfast, and looked around. The enemy were not in sight. They had

evidently withdrawn into the copse about half a mile distant; perhaps

under cover of it they had drawn off altogether. But knowing their

leader, and imagining the fury with which he must have seen the

frustration of his carefully-laid plans, Harry could not believe that he

would tamely accept the check as final. Aglionby, whatever his faults,

did not lack courage. He was not likely to throw up the game at the

loss of the first trick. He would probably assume that it was Prince

Eugene himself who had stolen a march upon him; in that case he would

suppose that he had the prince caged in the castle; and whatever

advantage he had expected to derive from the capture of the prince would

induce him to strain every nerve to prevent him from escaping. His aim,

Harry supposed, had been to hand Prince Eugene over to the Elector of

Bavaria, and reap much credit as well as a more tangible recompense. In

order to entrap the prince he had sent on Fanshawe's letter by another

hand. If he returned to the Elector's army without his prize, when the

odds had seemed all in his favour, he would become the laughing-stock of

the camp. Harry therefore felt certain that he would attempt to retake

the castle at whatever cost.

If he should succeed, Harry knew that he himself need expect no mercy.

Aglionby had a long account against him; time after time his plans had

been foiled; the sole item on the credit side, the saving of his life at

Breda, was likely, in a man of his disposition, only to deepen his

rancour.

He would, of course, sooner or later find out his mistake in regard to

Prince Eugene; and when the discovery was made he would expect the

prince to send a force at the first opportunity to relieve the men,

whoever they were, who had captured the castle, or at any rate to avenge

their fate. In either case Aglionby would lose no time, but would hasten

by all the means in his power any attack he might meditate. So far as

Harry could judge, he had nearly three hundred men under his command; it

would not be long before he learnt, if indeed he did not already know,

that the present holders of the castle did not number more than a score.

In the circumstances he would almost certainly attempt to take the place

by assault, and the obvious point of attack was the gateway. The bridge

was broken down; the fosse was too deep to be filled up; the attackers

would therefore have to construct another bridge, and the fosse being

little more than twenty feet wide, they could easily rig up a portable

platform strong enough to carry them to the assault. There was plenty

of timber in the neighbourhood; with the force at his disposal Aglionby

might make a serviceable bridge in a few hours.

Meanwhile, what was Harry to do with the prisoners? The question gave

him some trouble. He had plenty of provisions; there would be no

difficulty in feeding them; but if he kept them in the castle they would

require a guard of at least one man day and night, so that of his own

little band two men would practically be lost for effective defence.

If, on the other hand, he let them loose, he would add eighteen men,

fourteen of whom were unhurt, to the enemy's strength. Deciding that on

the whole it would be best to keep them, he went down to settle their

fate without loss of time.