"No."
"Then we have a good half-hour's start.
"Which is the way to the west gate?"
"Straight on, till you reach the wall; follow that to the right, it will bring you to the gate."
Rupert vaulted into his saddle, and the party rode out into the street; and then briskly, but without any appearance of extraordinary haste, until they reached the gate.
The guardian of the gate was sitting on a low block of wood at the door of the guardroom. There was, Rupert saw, no soldier about. Indeed, the place was quiet, for the evening was falling, and but few people cared to be about in those times after nightfall.
An idea flashed across Rupert's mind, and he rode up to the marquis:
"Please lead my horse," he said. "Wait for me a hundred yards on. I will be with you in three minutes."
Without waiting for an answer, he leapt from his horse, threw the reins to the marquis, and ran back to the gate, which was but thirty yards back.
"A word with you, good man," he said, going straight into the guardroom.