I LEANED OUT AS FAR AS I DARED, AND TAKING CAREFUL AIM, FIRED.
I missed the horse altogether, or grazed him very slightly, and frightened him; for I felt the vehicle give a violent jolt to one side and then forward, being nearly upset in the process. Then it dashed onward at a greater speed than before.
I leaned out once more and, getting this time a clearer aim, I fired again. There was a wild and desperate plunge, during which the carriage seemed to stop dead, then there was a terrific smash, and the next instant horse and carriage were lying in an indistinguishable heap in the middle of the road; and I found myself lying unhurt a few yards off.
I got up, and ran to look for von Nauheim. One of the lamps was still burning, and by the light of it I made a discovery that told me much. The horse was no ordinary cab hack, but a valuable beast worth a place in any man's stud. This was clear evidence to me that the whole thing had been planned.
My companion was lying under a heap of the wrecked carriage; and after much trouble I hauled him out, laid him by the roadside, and endeavored to find out whether he was much hurt, or had only fainted from fright.
I could not get him round, however; and as my presence in Munich was too essential to admit of my remaining with him, I was just starting to walk back, meaning to send him help as soon as I could find it, when I heard the voices of men approaching.
I was still suspicious of treachery, and instantly on my guard.
"Is that you, Fritz?" called a voice through the dark. "Why didn't you come on to the proper place?"
I jumped to the conclusion that these were the men who were waiting in ambush at the spot where the carriage ought to have taken me. But I did not know who Fritz was, unless he were the driver, who had fallen off.
"We have had an accident here," I called in reply, muffling my voice; "and the Prince von Gramberg has been badly hurt."
"Is that your Honor speaking?" asked the voice again.
"Come along quickly," I cried. "Fritz"—I blurred the word so that it might pass for any name—"has fallen off the box. You know what to do with the Prince. I must return at once."
"We know," was the answer. "Your Honor's horse is here"—and a man came up with a led horse.
"Do your work properly," I said as I clambered into the saddle, "and mind he's a bit delirious. Pay no heed to what he says till you get my instructions."
And with that I clapped my heels into the ribs of my borrowed horse and galloped off through the dark, laughing to myself at the thought that von Nauheim himself had fallen into the clutches of the very rascals in whose hands he had designed to leave me.