"Qui va la?" repeated the voice in a louder tone, and by the increased light in the narrow crack between the cloak and the wall Harry guessed that the man had risen on his elbow and snuffed the candle. An answering voice came from the doorway.
"Sebald Schummel, mon capitaine."
"Ah! Bien! Donnez-moi de vos nouvelles."
Harry felt a cold shiver down his back, and an impulse to pull aside the cloak and confirm by sight the evidence of his hearing. The voice was the voice of Captain Aglionby. Here was a discovery indeed. But he had scarcely time even to be surprised, for he was listening intently to a conversation that absorbed all his thought.
"The prince has arrived in Urach," said the new-comer. "He leaves at five in the morning on his way to Stuttgart. He travels by coach."
"Ah! what is his escort?"
"Two aides-de-camp and thirty dragoons, mon capitaine."
"A bagatelle! The game is ours!"
"Yes, mon capitaine," said another voice; "he will not easily escape us."
"Parbleu! He shall not. You are sure of the hour, Sebald?"