“Is it the castle?” cried the other, joyously.
“It is not the castle,” was the disappointing answer.
At that moment they came upon a great dark hulk and heard the stamping of horses' hoofs close at hand. It was so dark they could scarcely discern the shape of the carriage, although they could touch its side with their hands.
A soldier stood in the shelter of the vehicle and opened the door for the American.
“Hurry! Get in!” exclaimed Quinnox.
“I wish to know if this is liable to get her into trouble,” demanded Lorry, pausing with one foot on the steps.
“Get in!” commanded the soldier who was holding the door, pushing him forward uneasily. He floundered into the carriage where all was dry and clean. In his hand he still carried the keys and the lantern, the slide of which he had closed before leaving the prison yard. He could not see, but he knew that the trappings of the vehicle were superior. Outside he heard the soldier, who was preparing to enter, say:
“This carriage travels on most urgent business for Her Royal Highness, captain. It is not to be stopped.”
A moment later he was inside and the door slammed. The carriage rocked as Quinnox swung up beside the driver.
“You may as well be comfortable,” said Lorry's companion, as he sat rigid and restless. “We have a long and rough ride before us.”