Ludovic took a short turn, thinking over the project “No,” he said at length. “I cannot do it. Your suggestion is praiseworthy enough, my good friend, but I cannot leave Princess Ruperta.”
“Not even when your departure would mean her speedy release,” the soldier urged; “your staying here, your own death and her condemnation to the lengthened horror, to which from that villain she is certain to be exposed?”
“I cannot go,” Ludovic cried in desperation. “How can I leave her like this without even an attempt at rescue?”
“If the Princess,” Ompertz said resolutely, “can hear one word from the world outside those walls, she shall know the truth; if not, you may as well be bringing help as staying here to no purpose.”
But still the idea of leaving was so repugnant to Ludovic that he would not agree. He proposed to send Ompertz on the errand, but the soldier sturdily refused to leave the King in the midst of that deadly peril. For it was certain enough that the Count’s was no idle threat. It needed no more than the argument of that morning’s attack to put his intention beyond a doubt. At length, after a discussion which lasted till the sands of their hour’s grace had run out, it was determined that they should, at any risk, make a thorough examination of the castle and its approaches, and try what chance there might be of holding communication with the Princess. To leave that unattempted was impossible, and should their scrutiny promise no success, Ludovic would lose no further time in hurrying off to the nearest place where help could be obtained.
With this settled plan, they set themselves to return to the castle, avoiding any spies or guards who might be on the watch for them. Ompertz, however, was shrewdly of opinion that the Count would regard the idea of their return, at least alone, as too improbable for the need of taking any great precautions, although he might, no doubt, anticipate the bringing of an armed force against him later, when time allowed.
Still, with their lives already forfeit, they had to proceed warily. They were at issue with a man, shrewd, determined and probably as cunning as he was cruel. They decided to make their way to the wooded height above the castle whence they could reconnoitre it from the rear. The climb was tedious enough to their impatient spirits, since it was necessary for safety to approach it by an indirect way. But at length they reached a point of observation several hundred feet above the castle which lay immediately beneath. On the way they had met no signs of any human beings, and had begun to hope that the place might, after all, not be so jealously guarded as they feared. The castle below them stood grey and massive, silent, with no indication of the active, organised life the watchers knew well it contained. They could see now it was a building of considerable size; much greater, in fact, than the front suggested. It ran back at various points into the rock which had, either by nature or by art, been excavated in a manner that it and the building seemed dove-tailed into each other, the stone projections, natural and constructed, alternating in a strange architectural fashion.
“A rare prison-house our friend the Count has built for his chance guests,” Ompertz observed grimly, as, with a soldier’s eye, he took in the stronghold. “’Tis well placed, too, strategically, since it commands this raking height, which is rather its strength than, as one might at the first glance suppose, its weak point. Even artillery would be wasted here, unless the devil himself guided the flight of the shot, and he would be more likely to fight on the side of his disciple within.”
Cautiously now, they began the descent of the mountain side, taking good care that the sharpest observation from the castle should not detect them. Every few minutes they would pause and reconnoitre shrewdly. The whole place was still as death. The wind had quite died away, the tall pines stood motionless, the thick carpet they shed deadened all footfalls, no living thing crossed their path; it seemed as though the evil genius of the place had infected the very air and frightened away all free life. At length Ludovic and his companion got down to the castle’s turrets, unmolested so far. Proceeding now with the greatest circumspection, since every foot they descended increased their peril, they lowered themselves little by little, till they found themselves in face of a wall of smooth rock, pierced about the centre by a small doorway which was approached by a short flight of rough steps. This wall evidently formed the outer side of one of the wedges or dove-tails which ran in alternate fashion in and out of the rock. Whatever light the narrow building got would be from windows on the inner side, since outwardly there were none.
Whispering to Ludovic to watch his keenest, Ompertz crept forward, then up the steps and examined the little door. Evidently nothing was gained by that, for he turned away presently with a shake of the head. Ludovic stole down and joined him, and they explored further. The various ramifications at the back of the castle seemed to be joined by tunnels cut through the rock. These tunnels were not straight, but zig-zag, evidently so contrived for a purpose, and, from the fact that the explorers could never see more than a few feet in front of them, the examination was attended with the greatest risk.