"Look, Frojac! It is she!"
"We cannot catch her. She is too near the château."
"She will be detained at the gate."
"If she is the governor's agent, she will know what word to give the guards. They will have orders to admit her, day or night. One who goes on such business may be expected at any hour."
The manner of her reception at the gate, then, would disclose the truth. If she were admitted without parley, it would be evident that she was in the governor's service. My heart sank. Those who ride so fast towards closed gates, at such an hour, expect the gates to let them in.
"Mademoiselle!" I called.
But my voice was hoarse. I had no command over it. I could not give it volume. She made no sign. It was evident that she had not heard it. She did not seem to know that she was pursued. She did not look back. Was she so absorbed in her own thoughts, in her desire to reach her destination, that she was conscious of nothing else?
Frojac was right. She was already too near the château for us to overtake her before she arrived at the gate. We could but force our panting horses to their best, and keep our eyes on her. The moon was now in the west, and there was no object on the western side of the road to make a shadow. So we did not once lose sight of her. She approached the château gate without diminution of speed; it looked as if she heeded it not, or expected the horse to leap it.
"Even if they do admit her promptly," said I, "it will take a little time to lower the bridge over the ditch. We may then come up to her."
"Can you not see?" said Frojac. "The bridge is already down."