“Comtesse—I thank you. I shall always cherish your brave and noble words. And now, if you will permit me, I must give you your instructions. Take nothing with you, so that no suspicion may be aroused. The corner window opening toward the street is, I understand, that of your room. I shall watch that window. If the Princess consents to go, leave the curtains closed as they are now. If she does not, draw them apart, and I will understand. On your way to chapel, walk slowly along the chapel front, which will be in deep shadow at that time, and go to the South Gate. The sentinel will not stop you. The small door nearest the wall will be open and I will be awaiting you there. If the Princess is with you, lead her. And now, Comtesse, until six this evening!”
The sound of Helène’s steps in the hall brought the alert Rachel in apron and turned-up sleeves from the kitchen. She glanced questioningly at Morton, who simply nodded and said: “The Comtesse knows what to do.”
The rest of the day passed quickly in the house of the Rosens. A very excellent dinner was served him by his hostess. After dinner he smoked his cigar and chatted with Herr Rosen in the study. Later he sat in the little enclosure fitted as a counting room adjoining Rosen’s store, and looked across the quiet street at the gray walls of the castle. The storm had abated somewhat though the rain still came down and kept the street deserted. Through the grayish veil of mist he could distinguish the solitary figure of the sentry in hooded cloak, rifle reversed with bayonet pointing downward, slowly walking back and forth. He could not help speculating what the night would bring. Now and again he would look up at the window, but no sign of parted curtains was to be seen. Towards dark Rosen came to inquire if he had received any word. No, the curtains still remained closed.
An early and silent supper was hastily partaken of, and sunset found each man at his post. John saw the wagon drawing up at the gate in the narrow street to the rear. Good, Donald and Papiu were on the job.
Don, who was introduced to Rachel, seemed to be the least nervous among them all. He took things phlegmatically as if they were a part of his regular duties. Outside the wind had shifted and blew as strongly as ever. The men waited for the hour to strike. Rachel came in and told John that the maid had reported to her that Marco was on duty. John shook hands with her silently. Then, with a final word of warning to Don, he hurried to his post.
CHAPTER X
MORTON braced himself against the gusts of wind and squalls of icy rain which drenched his face and body. It was with difficulty that he was able to see his way. There was no need, he said to himself, to keep a lookout on a night like this. All the better. The flickering smoky flame of the oil-lamp over the main gate cast a faint yellow light around and threw ghostlike, moving shadows about the entrance. Stumbling frequently against the large pebbles in the roadway and wading almost ankle-deep through pools of muddy water, he managed to reach the denser blackness along the castle wall, and stopped under its protection to take a breath.
Glancing toward the sentry-boxes he saw the outline of a human figure as a dim motionless silhouette. His hand sought the butt end of his ready revolver, and the touch gave him confidence. Cautiously he groped for the door. It yielded easily to his pressure. With careful glances he satisfied himself that no one was about—the street totally deserted—the only sounds to be heard were the steady splash and beating of the rain and the groaning roars of the wind.