"I think not, your Highness."
"Why shouldn't we go to the lodge?"
"I fear a trap. If all is well, why go to the lodge? If not, it's a
snare to trap us."
Suddenly the duke's horse neighed. In an instant we folded our cloaks
close round our horses' heads, and, holding them thus, covered the duke
and his attendant with our revolvers. If they had found us, they had
been dead men, or our prisoners.
Michael waited a moment longer. Then he cried:
"To Zenda, then!" and setting spurs to his horse, galloped on.
Sapt raised his weapon after him, and there was such an expression
of wistful regret on his face that I had much ado not to burst out
laughing.
For ten minutes we stayed where we were.
"You see," said Sapt, "they've sent him news that all is well."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"God knows," said Sapt, frowning heavily. "But it's brought him from
Strelsau in a rare puzzle."
Then we mounted, and rode as fast as our weary horses could lay their
feet to the ground. For those last eight miles we spoke no more. Our
minds were full of apprehension. "All is well." What did it mean? Was
all well with the King?
At last the lodge came in sight. Spurring our horses to a last gallop,
we rode up to the gate. All was still and quiet. Not a soul came to meet
us.
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