“The fool!” Madeline Spencer exclaimed; “he has spoiled everything—quick, you must get away; I don’t want another De Saure house here,” with a look at Armand—“the way you came will still be open.”—She hurried ahead of them through the rooms to the stairway.... “I’ve been honest and I want to prove it, but,” she laughed sneeringly after them, “the next time Her Highness plays the man, let her wear a mask and a larger shoe.” The noise of men running came from below. “Hurry!” she cried, “they are trying to cut you off.”
With the Regent between them, and De Coursey and Marsov behind, the Archduke and Moore dashed down the lower passage to the small door and out into the garden.
“Come along!” said Armand; “we don’t want a fight; make straight for the gate.”
Holding Dehra’s arm, he ran across the drive and, avoiding the winding path, cut over the grass—to bring up, in a moment, at a fountain in a labyrinth of thick hedges and walks, none of which seemed to lead gateward.
With a muttered imprecation, the Archduke chose the one that pointed toward the winding path by which they had entered, only to discover that it curved back toward the house.
“Take the hedge!” he ordered; and he and Moore tossed the Princess over the seven foot obstruction, and were swung up, themselves, by De Coursey and Marsov, whom they then pulled across.
But this took time; and now Bigler’s voice rang from the garden.
“Make for the side gates—I’ll look to the rear one!” he cried; and almost immediately they heard him and his men between them and their exit.
The Archduke stopped.
“There is no need to tire ourselves by running,” he said; “we shall have to fight for it, so we may as well save our wind.—Gentlemen,”—turning to De Coursey and Marsov—“to-night you are honored above most men—you will draw swords for the Regent under her very eye—behold!”