“I should like to see the countess.”
“You will—if you reach Bleiberg by to-morrow night.”
Maurice needed no further urging, and soon he had the Colonel securely bound and silenced. Next he put on the Colonel's hat and coat, and examined the revolver.
“It was very kind of you to load it, Colonel.”
The Colonel blinked his eyes.
“Au revoir!” said Maurice, as he made for the door. “Vergis mein nicht!” and he was gone.
He crept down the stairs, cautiously entered the court, it was deserted. The moon was up and shining. The gate was locked, but he climbed it without mishap. Not a sentry was in sight. He followed the path, and swung off into the forest. He was free. Here he took a breathing spell. When he started onward he held the revolver ready. Woe to the sentry who blundered on him! For he was determined to cross the frontier if there was a breath of life in him. Moreover, he must be in Bleiberg within twenty hours.
He was positive that Madame the duchess intended to steal a march, to declare war only when she was within gunshot of Bleiberg. It lay with him to prevent this move. His cup of wrath was full. From now on he was resolved to wage war against Madame on his own account. She had laughed in his face. He pushed on, examining trees, hollows and ditches. Sometimes he put his hand to his ear and listened. There was no sound in the great lonely forest, save for the low murmur of the wind through the sprawling boughs. Shadows danced on the forest floor. Once he turned and shook his clenched fist toward the spot which marked the location of the Red Chateau. He thanked Providence that he was never to see it again. What an adventure to tell at the clubs when he once more regained his Vienna! Would he regain it?
Why did Madame keep Fitzgerald to her strings? He concluded not to bother himself with problems abstract; the main object was to cross the Thalians by a path of his own choosing. When he had covered what he thought to be a quarter of a mile, he mounted a lookout. The highway was about three hundred yards to the left. That was where it should be. He saw no sentries, so he slid down from the tree and resumed his journey. The chestnuts, oaks, and firs were growing thicker and denser. A dead branch cracked with a loud report beneath his feet. With his heart almost in his throat, he lay down and listened. A minute passed; he listened in vain for an answering noise. He got up and went on.
Presently he came upon a cluster of trees which was capable of affording a hiding place for three or four men. He stood still and surveyed it. The moon cast moving shadows on either side of it, but these had no human shape. He laughed silently at his fear, and as he was about to pass the cluster a man stepped out from behind it, his eyes gleaming and his hand extended. He was rather a handsome fellow, but pale and emaciated. He wore a trooper's uniform, and Maurice, swearing softly, concluded that his dash for liberty had come to naught. He, too, held a revolver in his hand, but he dared not raise it. There was a certain expression on the trooper's face which precluded any arguing.