The Prince had adopted the same policy toward me as toward Helga, and having planned the means of my escape through that treacherous scoundrel of a servant, had managed to convey to the brotherhood an intimation of where and when I could be found.
But for that fall of mine into the mud the plan would have succeeded, and there would have been an end of any interference from me in his plans.
I had no time to waste in cursing him, however; and as soon as the men were well past I rolled out from the hedge and crept on as quickly as I could.
I was afraid there would be a third man to be dealt with at the mouth of the place, but to my infinite relief the coast was clear, and putting on my boots again I turned into the road and walked briskly in the direction of the city.
I was in a deplorable mess from my tumble, and tried with very little effect to get rid of some of the mud from my clothes and face.
It was while I was doing this, and puzzling how I should get admission to Helga’s house that the need for some disguise occurred to me. I should probably have to pass some of the brotherhood spies near the house, and if I were recognized the consequences might be vitally serious.
The means for the disguise were in fact supplied by the mud into which I had fallen. I knocked in the crown of my hat, took off my coat, tore my shirt-sleeves half-way to the elbows, daubed them and my arms and hands with mud, and in a minute was changed into a dirty disreputable loafer, whom any one would have the greatest difficulty in recognizing as Harper C. Denver, the smartly groomed New Yorker.
And in this guise I hurried as fast as I dared without exciting suspicion from the police in the direction of the square of San Sophia.