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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

"The Prisoner of Zenda"

Then I suppose a look came over my face, for old Sapt caught me
by the hand, crying:
"You'll go?"
"Yes, I'll go," said I, and I turned my eyes on the prostrate figure of
the King on the floor.
"Tonight," Sapt went on in a hasty whisper, "we are to lodge in the
Palace. The moment they leave us you and I will mount our horses--Fritz
must stay there and guard the King's room--and ride here at a gallop.
The King will be ready--Josef will tell him--and he must ride back with
me to Strelsau, and you ride as if the devil were behind you to the
frontier."
I took it all in in a second, and nodded my head.
"There's a chance," said Fritz, with his first sign of hopefulness.
"If I escape detection," said I.
"If we're detected," said Sapt. "I'll send Black Michael down below
before I go myself, so help me heaven! Sit in that chair, man."
I obeyed him.
He darted from the room, calling "Josef! Josef!" In three minutes he was
back, and Josef with him. The latter carried a jug of hot water, soap
and razors. He was trembling as Sapt told him how the land lay, and bade
him shave me.
Suddenly Fritz smote on his thigh:
"But the guard! They'll know! they'll know!"
"Pooh! We shan't wait for the guard. We'll ride to Hofbau and catch a
train there.


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