"Like a gentleman!" cried Maurice, letting out a little of his anger.

"Take out the gag; he will not cry."

The leader nodded, and Fitzgerald's mouth was relieved. He spat some blood on the carpet, then looked at his captors, the devil in his eyes.

"Proceed to kill me and have done," he said.

"Kill you? No, no!"

"I advise you to, for if you do not kill me, some day I shall be free again, and then G.o.d help some of you."

Maurice gazed at the candles on the table, and smiled.

"I'm sorry they dragged you into it, Maurice," said Fitzgerald.

"I'm glad they did. What you want is company." There was a glance, swift as light. It went to the mantel, then pa.s.sed to the captive. "Well,"

said Maurice, "what is next on your d.a.m.ned program?"

"The other side of the frontier."

"Maybe," said Maurice.

With an unexpected movement he sent the table over, the lights went out; and he had judged the distance so accurately that he felt his hands close over the revolvers.

"The door! the door!" a voice bawled. "Knock down any one who attempts to pa.s.s."

This was precisely what Maurice desired. With the soldiers ma.s.sed about the door, he would be free to liberate Fitzgerald; which he did. He had scarcely completed the task, when a flame spurted up. The leader fearlessly lit a candle and righted the table. He saw both his prisoners, one of them with extended arms, at the ends of which glistened revolver barrels.

"The devil!" he said.

"Maybe it is," replied Maurice. "Now, my gay banqueteers, open the door; and the first man who makes a suspicious movement will find that I'm a tolerable shot."

"Seize him, your Excellency!" shouted one of the troopers. "Those are my revolvers he has, and they are not loaded."

CHAPTER VIII. THE RED CHATEAU

Two o'clock in the morning, on the king's highway, and a small body of horse making progress. The moon was beginning to roll away toward the west, but the world was still frost-white, and the broad road stretched out like a silver ribbon before the hors.e.m.e.n, until it was lost in the blue mist of the forests.

The troop consisted of ten men, two of whom rode with their hands tied behind their backs and their feet fastened under the bellies of the horses. The troop was not conspicuous for this alone. Three others had their heads done up in handkerchiefs, and a fourth carried his arm in a sling.

Five miles to the rear lay the sleeping city of Bleiberg, twenty miles beyond rose the formidable heights of the Thalians. At times the horses went forward at a gallop, but more often they walked; when they galloped the man with his arm in the sling complained. Whenever the horses dropped into a walk, the leader talked to one of the prisoners.

"You fight like the very devil, my friend," he said; "but we were too many by six. Mind, I think none the less of you for your attempt; freedom is always worth fighting for. As I said before, no harm is meant to you, physically; as to the moral side, that doesn't concern me. You have disabled four of my men, and have scarcely a dozen scratches to show for it. I wanted to take only four men with me; I was ordered to take eight. The hand of providence is in it."

"You wouldn't be so polite, Colonel," spoke up the trooper whose arm was in the sling, "if you had got this crack."

"Baron, who told you to call me Colonel?" the leader demanded.

"Why, we are out of the city; there's no harm now that I can see."

"Is it possible," said Maurice ironically, "that I have had the honor of hitting a baron on the head and breaking his arm?"

The baron muttered a curse and fell back.

"And you," went on Maurice, addressing the leader, "are a Colonel?"

"Yes."

"For the d.u.c.h.ess?"

"For the d.u.c.h.ess."

"A black business for you, Colonel; take my word for it."

"A black business it is; but orders are orders. Have you ever been a soldier?"

"I have."

"Well, there's nothing more to be said."

"America--" Maurice began.

"Is several thousand miles away."

"Not if you reckon from Vienna."

"I'd rather not reckon, if it's all the same to you. Your friend--I might say, your very valuable friend--takes the matter too much to heart."

"He's not a talkative man."

Fitzgerald looked straight ahead, stern and impa.s.sive.

"But now that we are talking," said Maurice, "I should like to know how the deuce you got hold of my name and dragged me into this affair?"

"Simple enough. A card of yours was given to me; on it was your name and address. The rest was easy."

Maurice grew limp in the saddle.

"By George! I had forgotten! The woman is at the bottom of it."

"Quite likely. I thought you'd come to that conclusion. Sometimes when we play with foxes they lead us into bear traps. Young man, witness these gray hairs; never speak to strange women, especially when they wear veils."

Fitzgerald was now attending the conversation.

"And who is this woman?" asked Maurice.