At five o'clock, in the cool of a fine morning, the prince's gilded coach drew up at the door of the Rathhaus, with fifteen dragoons in full riding trim. A carpet was spread from the entrance across the path to the coach, and one of the town officials stood in waiting to show the great man to his seat. By and by a figure in cocked hat, full wig, laced coat, and corslet came out with a fair counterfeit of Eugene's active gait; he gave a somewhat stiff acknowledgment of the salutes of the soldiers and the respectful obeisance of the local magnates and the crowd of interested townspeople, and stepped quickly into the coach. Harry followed him. The door was shut, the word given to the two postilions, and amid the cheers of all Urach the vehicle rattled over the stones, out at the gate, into the open highway. No one but the principals in the little drama, and the fifteen picked men of the escort, knew that the man to whom they had just shown such deference was not Eugene of Savoy, a prince of a sovereign house, but Max Berens, the simple son of a shoemaker.
Harry had been at the pains to drill his companions in the part they were to play. He had learnt from Max that there were two roads leading from the main highway to the castle. Of these the one nearest to Urach was the better; it branched off about a mile on the town side of the inn. The other was a more circuitous and difficult track across the hills, leaving the highroad at a point rather more distant from the inn on the farther side, and only a few yards from the spot chosen for the ambuscade. Between the two cross-roads the highway took a somewhat irregular course, and while it was visible from point to point, only a few yards of the intervening portion could be seen from either of the by-roads, owing to its windings and the undulations of the ground. When the coach, therefore, should arrive at the first road it would be descried by the ambuscaders, but would then disappear from their view, not becoming visible again until a short distance before it reached them. On this fact Harry reckoned for the successful accomplishment of the first part of his scheme.
A mile out of Urach, Harry found the landlord awaiting him in charge of one of the town guard. He was taken into the coach, which then drove rapidly on. On arriving at the cross-road, instead of going straight forward towards the inn and the ambush, it swung round to the right, and at Harry's orders the postilions whipped up the horses and drove at a headlong pace towards the castle. The actual turning could not be seen from the place of the ambuscade, and Harry confidently expected that the brigands, having caught sight of the coach the moment before it left the road, would await its coming without suspicion. Its non-appearance after a time would surprise them; they might suppose it had stopped at the inn to bait the horses; they would allow for this, and a considerable time would elapse before they discovered the truth. This interval would, he hoped, give him so long a start that he would have ample time to play his trick upon the garrison.
About half a mile from the castle, Harry ordered the postilions and escort to halt at a spot where they were hidden from the garrison by a stretch of rising ground. He then dismounted four of the dragoons, bade them get into the coach, and made the landlord change places with the postilion on one of the sear horses. In his hand he placed an empty pistol.
"When we drive on," he said, "you will point that at the back of the postilion in front of you, and look as grim as you please. When we come within earshot of the sentry at the bridge—I will give the word—you will shout to him to let us through quickly: 'Here we are!' you will cry. I have let down the window, you observe; Berens will be a few feet behind you with a loaded pistol: you understand?"
Then turning to the eleven dragoons who were still on horseback, he said:
"Now, men, you know your part. Wait till we are over the bridge, then gallop up at full speed with sabres drawn and pistols cocked, ready for anything."
"What about the four horses, Herr Capitan?" asked one of the troopers.
"We must leave them. Tie their heads together and string them to that tree yonder: we may get them by and by; if not, the coach horses will serve. Now; all ready! Drive on, landlord."
The two postilions—the foremost a stalwart dragoon—whipped up the horses, which dashed forward at a furious gallop towards the castle. It was a tight squeeze in the coach—Harry, Max, and the four big troopers jammed together in a narrow space.