In an hour, however, he returned out of breath and with a face white

from despair. Wogan was still writing at his table, but at his first

glance towards Gaydon he started quickly to his feet, and altogether

forgot to cover over his sheet of paper. He carefully shut the door.

"You have bad news," said he.

"There was never worse," answered Gaydon. He had run so fast, he was so

discomposed, that he could with difficulty speak. But he gasped his bad

news out in the end.

"I went to my brother major to report my return. He was entertaining his

friends. He had a letter this morning from Strasbourg and he read it

aloud. The letter said a rumour was running through the town that the

Chevalier Wogan had already rescued the Princess and was being hotly

pursued on the road to Trent."

If Wogan felt any disquietude he was careful to hide it. He sat

comfortably down upon the sofa.

"I expected rumour would be busy with us," said he, "but never that it

would take so favourable a shape."

"Favourable!" exclaimed Gaydon.

"To be sure, for its falsity will be established to-morrow, and

ridicule cast upon those who spread and believed it. False alarms are

the proper strategy to conceal the real assault. The rumour does us a

service. Our secret is very well kept, for here am I in Schlestadt, and

people living in Schlestadt believe me on the road to Trent. I will go

back with you to the major's and have a laugh at his correspondent.

Courage, my friend. We will give our enemies a month. Let them cry wolf

as often as they will during that month, we'll get into the fold all the

more easily in the end."

Wogan took his hat to accompany Gaydon, but at that moment he heard

another man stumbling in a great haste up the stairs. Misset broke into

the room with a face as discomposed as Gaydon's had been.

"Here's another who has heard the same rumour," said Wogan.

"It is more than a rumour," said Misset. "It is an order, and most

peremptory, from the Court of France, forbidding any officer of Dillon's

regiment to be absent for more than twenty-four hours from his duties on

pain of being broke. Our secret's out. That's the plain truth of the

matter."

He stood by the table drumming with his fingers in a great agitation.

Then his fingers stopped. He had been drumming upon Wogan's sheet of

paper, and the writing on the sheet had suddenly attracted his notice.

It was writing in unusually regular lines. Gaydon, arrested by Misset's

change from restlessness to fixity, looked that way for a second, too,

but he turned his head aside very quickly. Wogan's handwriting was none

of his business.




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