"
"You shall go, lad," said Sapt.
Here is the plan I had made. A strong party under Sapt's command was
to steal up to the door of the chateau. If discovered prematurely, they
were to kill anyone who found them--with their swords, for I wanted no
noise of firing. If all went well, they would be at the door when Johann
opened it. They were to rush in and secure the servants if their mere
presence and the use of the King's name were not enough. At the same
moment--and on this hinged the plan--a woman's cry was to ring out loud
and shrill from Antoinette de Mauban's chamber. Again and again she was
to cry: "Help, help! Michael, help!" and then to utter the name of young
Rupert Hentzau. Then, as we hoped, Michael, in fury, would rush out of
his apartments opposite, and fall alive into the hands of Sapt. Still
the cries would go on; and my men would let down the drawbridge; and it
would be strange if Rupert, hearing his name thus taken in vain, did not
descend from where he slept and seek to cross. De Gautet might or might
not come with him: that must be left to chance.
And when Rupert set his foot on the drawbridge? There was my part: for I
was minded for another swim in the moat; and, lest I should grow weary,
I had resolved to take with me a small wooden ladder, on which I could
rest my arms in the water--and my feet when I left it.
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