"The sword of Damocles!" was all he said.
"Don't know the gent," said Beany huskily. "Did some guy play this trick on him! If he felt as nervous as I did before you came, I feel good and sorry for him. Gosh, I have been sitting all trussed up there for about a year! Let's get out of this!"
"No special hurry," said Porky wearily. He could not recover at once from the shock, but Beany was chipper as a cricket.
"Well, I don't know," he said, "I have not grown so fond of this little old dungeon that I want to reside here long. Besides, perhaps you don't know the old lady who sweeps upstairs as well as I do. She is apt to be up to almost any trick."
"Not if the Court knows himself, and he thinks he does," said Porky positively. "I left her under the bed in the other room with about a mile of flossy curtain cord twined around her. She is safe enough. We will go up and report this little affair, and get a couple of men to come down and take her to the General. She is a hard character. A spy, in fact."
"I guess I know that!" said Beany, rising and rubbing his stiff legs and arms. "I have a lot more to report than you have. Let's be off!"
Together they hurried into the first chamber, and made for the door leading into the passage. Porky, in passing, looked under the bed. Then with a gasp he looked again and, dropping on one knee, seized a bundle of ragged clothing and a tangle of crimson curtain cords.
He looked at them, turning them over and over. Then he shook them. Then he looked under the great high bed again.
"What ails you?" demanded Beany impatiently.
"She's—she's gone!" said Porky feebly.