“There is a subterranean passage below us to Linn. Let us fly!” she whispered.
“But why?”
“They always do it in the legends,” she murmured modestly.
“But your father?”
“He sleeps. Do you not hear him?”
Certainly somebody was snoring. But, oddly enough, it seemed to be Wilhelmina. Mr. Clinch suggested this to her.
“Fool, it is yourself!”
Mr. Clinch, struck with the idea, stopped to consider. She was right. It certainly WAS himself.
With a struggle he awoke. The sun was shining. The maiden was looking at him. But the castle—the castle was gone!
“You have slept well,” said the maiden archly. “Everybody does after dinner at Sammtstadt. Father has just awakened, and is coming.”