“It is as well to keep the fellow alive for a while,” he said to Ludovic; “we may find a use for him.”
“In my opinion the ugly scoundrel is certainly right, Captain,” Ompertz observed. “This is no place to account for with a handful of men. It could defy you at that rate till doomsday.”
By his ill-humoured face, Udo did not seem to accept the opinion very graciously. But he was fain to consult with Ludovic upon the position in which they found themselves. His manner towards the King was dubiously deferential, suggesting that he would have liked to discredit him were he only certain of his ground.
“You may accept the fellow’s word,” Ludovic said, ignoring Udo’s manner in his paramount anxiety for Ruperta. “It would, I am sure, be absolutely useless to attempt to force our way into the place. And here, from behind, is its least vulnerable point. I fear all we can do is to go round to the front and threaten or, at least, parley with the Count.”
Udo’s aggrieved expression seemed, as doubtless it was intended, to make the most of the undeniable fact that it was by the extravagant act of Ludovic himself—king or no king—that the Princess had fallen into this trap. However, he accepted his advice, and the party made their way round into the narrow valley and so up to the front of the castle.
Here, with sound of bugle and peremptory hammering at the great door, the master was summoned and entrance demanded. But not a sign of impression was or seemed likely to be made. After a while, however, a grating in the door was uncovered, and a man-servant, after blandly inquiring the reason of the summons, intimated that if the leaders of the party would come forward alone, having drawn off their men down into the valley, the Count, his master, might be graciously pleased to speak with them from a window. As this seemed the best chance they might expect, Udo ordered down his men, and remained on the highest terrace with Ludovic and Ompertz. For many minutes they stood there cooling their impatience. Presently, however, a light appeared at a window above their heads; it was opened, and at it the Count appeared with a face of bland, protesting surprise.
“May I ask the reason of this somewhat rude summons?” he inquired. “What do you gentlemen want?”
“We want,” Udo answered, “the ladies whom you are keeping prisoners.”
The Count raised his eyebrows in still further surprise. “Really, gentlemen,” he replied, “I am at a loss to understand you. You are making, knowingly or in ignorance, an extraordinary mistake. I know nothing of any ladies in my house.”
His affectation of ignorance, while it rather nonplussed Captain Rollmar, exasperated Ludovic, to whom it was disagreeably familiar.