At that instant a half dozen police-guards appeared at the head of the stairs. Upon seeing the Americans they stopped and turned as if to oppose a foe approaching from the opposite direction. Baron Dangloss separated himself from the white coats above and called to the men below. In alarm they started for the street door. He was with them in an instant, his usually red face changing from white to purple, his anxious eyes darting first toward the group above and then toward the bewildered Americans.
“What's the matter?” demanded Lorry.
“There! See!” cried Dangloss, and even as he spoke a conflict began at the head of the stairs, the police, augmented by a few soldiers, struggling against a howling, enraged mass of Axphainians. Dangloss dragged his reluctant charges through a small door, and they found themselves in the baggage-room of the hotel. Despite their queries he offered no explanation, but rushed them along, passing out of the opposite door, down a short stairway and into a side street. A half dozen police-guards were awaiting them, and before they could catch the faintest idea of what it all meant, they were running with the officers through an alley, as if pursued by demons.
“Now, what in thunder does this mean?” panted Lorry, attempting to slacken the pace. He and Anguish were just beginning to regain their senses.
“Do not stop! Do not stop!” wheezed Dangloss. “You must get to a place of safety. We cannot prevent something dreadful happening if you are caught!”
“If we are caught!” cried Anguish. “Why, what have we done?”
“Unhand me, Baron Dangloss! This is an outrage!” shouted Lorry.
“For God's sake, be calm! We are befriending you. When we reach the Tower, where you will be safe, I shall explain,” gasped the panting Chief of Police. A few moments later they were inside the prison gates, angry, impatient, fatigued.
“Is this a plan to prevent the duel?” demanded Lorry, turning upon the chief, who had dropped limply into a chair and was mopping his brow. When he could find his breath enough to answer, Dangloss did so, and he might as well have thrown a bombshell at their feet.
“There'll be no duel. Prince Lorenz is dead!”