Mesmer suddenly recognized the two gentlemen and divined Romberg's purpose. Bringing his horse to an abrupt stop, he drew a pistol, with which he had in some way provided himself, and fired straight at Romberg as the latter came up. Romberg instantly tumbled from the horse to the road, and lay still, retaining his sword in the rigid grasp of death.
Dick gave a cry of grief and wrath, tore his arm from Catherine's hold, and galloped towards Mesmer, drawing his own pistol and firing as he went. A shriek cleft the air, and the traitor rolled on the earth, close to the body that he himself had bereft of life a moment ago.
Dick quickly ascertained that both were dead, then remounted his horse, seized the bridle of Catherine's, and spurred forward. Not a word passed for some time, both indulging in silence the emotions produced by this latest swift tragedy. Presently Dick said, "If we should report to the next town's authorities that those two bodies are back there in the road, we should doubtless be detained, and all would be lost. So I shall merely tell the first honest-looking man we meet, where the bodies lie and whose they are. My poor Romberg!"
This plan Dick soon carried out, and, as in this case his judgment of a face was correct, the two bodies were subjected neither to robbery nor to final consignment to unknown graves.
At nightfall Dick and Catherine gave their horses rest and food at a village hostelry, and then resumed their journey, pretending they had little farther to go. But they rode all night, making what battle they could against fatigue, and what defence their cloaks enabled them to maintain against the cold.
They entered Frankfort a few minutes after the gates were opened for the day. As this was a free city, it seemed likely that they were out of danger, although it might turn out that the Landgrave's arm could reach them here, through his resident, as the arm of Frederick of Prussia had reached Voltaire twenty-five years before. But it was absolutely necessary that they should have sleep, so Dick took the risk of riding at once to the inn called the Emperor, and ordering rooms and breakfast. As they dropped into chairs in the dining-parlor, more dead than alive, they heard an exclamation of surprise from a man they had vaguely perceived across the table. Both, looking up at the same moment, recognized Gerard de St. Valier.
This meeting revived the worn-out energies of Dick and Catherine, and explanations were quickly made. Gerard, having been released from Spangenberg some hours before the other two had left Cassel, and having taken at Melsungen a shorter route than that by way of Fulda, had arrived in Frankfort late the previous night. And, a few minutes after his arrival, a great event had occurred. He had met at this inn a lawyer's clerk, on the way from Paris to Cassel, with papers awarding at last to the St. Valiers the bequest that had been disputed in the courts. This news made the future look rosy. It assured the St. Valiers of a moderate competency, and would make it possible for Dick to marry Catherine without fear of her being tied to destitution through any failure of his own to find fortune.
It was agreed to remain at the Emperor until noon, that some hours of sleep might be had. Then the three were to start Parisward on their horses, this mode of travel—no longer a common one for ladies—being retained because it was by far the most rapid.
When Dick and Catherine reappeared from their rooms, at the time set for taking horse again, they met Gerard, whose face wore a look of disquietude.
"I have paid the bills, and the horses are ready," he said to Dick, in a low tone. "Let us lose no time in getting out of the city and territory of Frankfort."