This prompt obedience by no means suited Mistitch's book. It forced him either to show his hand or to ride off with Sophy, leaving the Prince to his devices—and, in a little while, to his revenge.
"I mustn't hurry you. You have some preparations—?"
"None," said Sophy. Her horse was led out into the road.
"You'll at least desire to acquaint his Royal Highness—?"
"Not at all necessary. Baron von Hollbrandt can do that later on."
Mistitch looked puzzled. Sophy smiled; her intuition had been right. The attack on her was a feint, her arrest a blind; the Prince was the real object of the move. She stepped down towards Mistitch.
"I see my horse is ready. We can start at once, Captain," she said.
"I'm instructed to express to the Prince regret that it should be necessary—"
"The regret will be conveyed to him. Come, Captain!"
But Mistitch barred her way.