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.