"You are right," said he, and laughed, perhaps to ease her alarm,
perhaps in sheer bitter mirth. "It will be, no doubt, the work of
our friend, Madame von Platen. I had best begone. For the rest,
my travelling chaise will wait from noon until sunset to-morrow
by the Markt Kirck in Hanover, and I shall wait within it. I
shall hope to conduct you safely to Wolfenbuttelyy."

"I will come, I will come. But go now--oh, go!"

He looked very deeply into her eyes--a valedictory glance against
the worst befalling him. Then he took her hand, bowed over it and
kissed it, and so departed.

He crossed the outer ante-room, descended the short flight of
stairs, and pushed open the heavy door of the Hall of Knights. He
passed through, and thrust the door behind him, then stood a
moment looking round the vast apartment. If he was too late to
avoid the springs of the baited trap, it was here that they
should snap upon him. Yet all was still. A single lamp on a table
in the middle of the vast chamber shed a feeble, flickering
light, yet sufficient to assure him that no one waited here. He
sighed relief, wrapped his cloak about him, and set out swiftly
to cross the hall.

But even as he passed, four shadows detached themselves from the
tall stove, resolved themselves into armed men, and sprang after
him.

He heard them, wheeled about, flung off his cloak, and disengaged