WE OUTSTRIP OUR FORTUNE
Next morning I packed a small valise and paid the landlord, telling him we were going on a shooting expedition to a district some twenty miles off, whence the time of our return might be uncertain. Then we set off for Carlzig. Our first business there was to buy a carriage and a pair of fast horses. This was not an easy matter, and it was some hours before we found just what we wanted. But at last we got hold of two good strong-winded animals and a serviceable light carriage, somewhat like an old-fashioned calèche, our pretext being that we intended them for a driving tour through the country. We then laid in a stock of provisions, bought another revolver each, with a good supply of cartridges, and having provided ourselves with the necessary tools for the removal of the bars, we were ready. We had an early dinner, and afterwards drove quietly out of the town. Strode, who was going to be coachman, had mounted the box, and I drove inside so as to avoid observation as much as possible. By an indirect route and at an easy pace we made our way to a spot we had settled upon, perhaps a quarter of a mile from the entrance to the underground passage. Here, in a wild piece of woodland approached by a rough grass road, the carriage could stay with very little chance of attracting attention even from the Count’s spies. We had agreed that I should go through to the Monastery alone, for if the prisoner should be in the same room there would probably, unless we were interrupted, be no difficulty in my effecting her release single-handed; if, on the other hand, I could not find her, or any unexpected difficulty should arise, I was to hurry back for Strode.
It was now dusk—almost dark. I put the tools in my pocket and hastened impatiently to the entrance of the passage. I had bought a small lantern in Carlzig, and with this protection for my light was able to make much quicker progress, especially as the way was now familiar. I reached the steps and trap-door; left my lantern at the bottom and passed through. Then, as I drew near, a horrible fear came upon me that a few steps would show me the disappointment to which I might be doomed. I scarcely dared approach the doorway where my worst fears might in an instant be confirmed. The momentary weakness was overcome and I peered out into the passage. To my intense joy and relief a faint glimmer of light fell across it at half its length. In a few seconds I was by the window. Approaching cautiously, I heard no sound of voices; the curtains were drawn slightly apart, I peeped through and saw Fräulein Asta sitting there alone. A tap on the glass brought her joyfully to the window. In reply to my sign of inquiry she nodded that all was safe, so without delay I set to work on the screws that held the bars. They had evidently been recently put in and yielded readily to the wrench. One after another the bars were turned down while the prisoner kept watch by the door. In a few minutes every obstacle was removed; I beckoned, and the Fräulein ran to the window and opened it.
"Is all safe?" were my first words.
"Yes," she answered. “I do not think Telka will return, and the Count”—she gave a little shudder—“is away. Oh, I have feared!”
“And I too. But we will talk of that presently when you are safe. Quick, now; bring a chair. So. Now let me lift you through.”
Her arms were round my neck, and I had little difficulty in drawing her through the open window. “So far good,” I said; “let me replace the bars to throw them off the track.”
The delay was risky, but I judged it worth while to prevent the prisoner’s manner of escape from being too obvious. Pursuit would be certain in any case, and this precaution might gain us time.
The bars were soon in position. “Now, Fräulein, quick! Let me hold your arm and guide you. The way is not easy.”
I led her along the dark passage and so to the trap-door. “Once down here I trust we shall be safe,” I said, lifting it. The girl hesitated a moment—the descent was not inviting—then, holding my hand, crept down. I took up my lantern and went on in front, for there was no room for us to walk abreast. The dark, dripping, noisome gallery must have seemed horrible to the girl, but she kept bravely on at my heels, I guiding and encouraging her as best I could, considering how hurried our progress had to be. “We are nearly at the end now,” I was able at length to say, and then we began the ascent which brought us to the entrance.