“I will help you,” he said; “but you must make it seem that you have forced me. You must bind me and stop my mouth, so that when they come and find me they shall see you have forced me.”
It was a very thin device, but if it satisfied him I had no reason to care, especially as I had contemplated doing it in earnest.
“Very well.”
“And you must not go yet, monsieur, not until dark. You would be seen; the grounds are alive with guards and soldiers. You must wait till seven o’clock.”
“Why till seven o’clock?”
“It will not be dark enough before; and besides, a number of men go away at that hour—the gardeners—and I can tell you how to get out so that no one will see you if you wait till then.”
“That’s all very well, but I may be arrested first,” I said suspiciously.
“No no, monsieur. You are to stay here all night. I heard his highness say so, and I was told to remain here until ten o’clock, when I am to be relieved.”
There was Helga to think of, however, and to remain there an hour and a half longer while she was in momentary peril seemed intolerable. At the same time, there was wisdom in what the man said. To get out of the grounds in daylight, while the gardeners and others were about, was just a forlorn hope, and bitterly as I chafed at the delay, I resolved to wait until dusk came.
That hour and a half was the longest in my life. The man did his best to occupy my thoughts, telling me over and over again exactly the way I had to go so as to avoid meeting any one, pointing out part of it from the window, and giving me a hundred hints and suggestions.