Then I saw trouble.
Some distance up the street a patrol of mounted police was riding toward us at the walk, and in an instant I perceived the danger this spelt for me.
So did Bremenhof. The sight seemed to rouse his long dormant courage. He pushed me away from him, jumped back, and called in a loud ringing tone for help.
The police came running out from his house, the patrol pricked up their horses; and as I sprang into the sleigh, the street seemed suddenly alive with men.
My driver knew his business, however. The horses he had were spirited and full of blood, and in a moment we were rattling along at full speed, the bells ringing and jingling furiously, the driver shouting lusty warnings, and the sleigh jumping and jolting so that I had to grip tight to save myself from being thrown out.
The patrol pulled up to speak with Bremenhof, and, as we dashed round a corner, I saw him mount one of the horses and come clattering after us, leading the rest in hot pursuit.
But we had a good start by that time, and my driver, guiding his team with rare skill and judgment, made a dozen quick turns through short streets. This prevented our pursuers from spurring their animals to the gallop, kept them in doubt as to the direction we had taken, and thus minimized their advantage of saddle over harness.
To that manœuvre was due our success in evading immediate capture.
Doubtful of ultimate success in such a chase, however, I proposed to the driver to pull up and let me get away on foot.
“The Count is close here,” he replied, to my great surprise; and after we had raced along in this fashion for some ten minutes, I saw Volna and Ladislas waiting at a corner. The driver pulled up, and they jumped in.