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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

"The Prisoner of Zenda"

I was near enough to hear him
mutter: "How the devil comes this here?' I was at the rope, and he,
hanging in mid air, saw me, but I could not reach him.
"Hullo! who's here?" he cried in startled tones.
For a moment, I believe, he took me for the King--I dare say I was pale
enough to lend colour to the thought; but an instant later he cried:
"Why it's the play-actor! How come you here, man?"
And so saying he gained the bank.
I laid hold of the rope, but I paused. He stood on the bank, sword in
hand, and he could cut my head open or spit me through the heart as I
came up. I let go the rope.
"Never mind," said I; "but as I am here, I think I'll stay."
He smiled down on me.
"These women are the deuce--" he began; when suddenly the great bell of
the Castle started to ring furiously, and a loud shout reached us from
the moat.
Rupert smiled again, and waved his hand to me.
"I should like a turn with you, but it's a little too hot!" said he, and
he disappeared from above me.
In an instant, without thinking of danger, I laid my hand to the rope.
I was up. I saw him thirty yards off, running like a deer towards the
shelter of the forest. For once Rupert Hentzau had chosen discretion for
his part. I laid my feet to the ground and rushed after him, calling to
him to stand.


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