“Good morning to you, Baron Hugo von Hohenfels. These men whom you address so coarsely obey no orders but mine.”
“And who, imp of Satan, are you?” sputtered the old man.
“By profession a hangman. From our fastnesses in the hills, seeing a barge float down the river, we thought it likely you would leave the Castle undefended, and so came in to execute the Prince of Robbers.”
The Baron was quaking like a huge jelly. It was evident that, although noted for his cruelty, he was at heart a coward.
“You—you—you—” he stammered, “are outlaws! You are outlaws from the Hunsruck.”
“How clever of you, Baron, to recognize us at once. Now you know what to expect. Greusel, unwind the rope I gave you last night. I will show you its purpose.”
Greusel did as he was requested without comment, but Ebearhard approached closely to his chief, and whispered:
“Why resort to violence? We have no quarrel with this elephant. ‘Tis his gold we want, and to hang him is a waste of time.”
“Hush, Ebearhard,” commanded Roland sternly. “The greater includes the less. I know this man, and am taking the quickest way to his treasure-house.”
Ebearhard fell back, but by this time the useful Greusel had made a loop of the rope, and threw it like a cravat around the Baron’s neck.