Some one was shouting his name behind in the scurrying crowd. He turned for a single glance backward. Little Mr. Hobbs, pale as a ghost, his cap gone, his clothing torn, was panting at his elbow.
"God save us!" gasped Hobbs. "Are you alive or am I seeing all the bloody ghosts in the world?"
"I'm alive all right," cried King. "Where can we go? Be quick, Hobbs! Think! Don't sputter like that. I want to be personally conducted, and damned quick at that."
"Before God, sir, I 'aven't the idea where to go," groaned Hobbs. "It's dreadful! Did you see what the woman did back there--"
"Don't stop to tell me about it, Hobbs. Keep on running. Go ahead of me. I'm used to following the man from Cook's."
"Right you are, sir. I say, by Jove, I'm glad to see you--I am. You came right up out of the ground as if--"
"Is there no way to get off this beastly avenue?" panted King. "They're shooting back there like a pack of wild men. I hate to think of what's going on."
"Dangloss will 'ave them all in the jug inside of ten minutes, take my word--"
"They'll have Dangloss hanging from a telephone; pole, Hobbs! Don't talk! Run!"
Soldiers came riding up from behind, turning to fire from their saddles into the throng of cutthroats, led by the grim old man with the bloody sabre. In the centre of the troop there was a flying carriage. The Duke of Perse was lying back in the seat, his face like that of a dead man. Far ahead rattled the royal coach and the wildly flying carriages of state.
"The Prince is safe!" shouted King joyously. "They'll make it! Thank God!"
Colonel Quinnox turned in his saddle and searched out the owner of that stirring voice.
"Come!" he called, drawing rein as soon as he caught sight of him.
Even as King rushed out into the roadway a horseman galloped up from the direction of the Castle. He pulled his horse to his haunches almost as he was riding over the dodging American.
"Here!" shouted the newcomer, scowling down upon the young man. "Swing up here! Quick, you fool!"
It was Vos Engo, his face black with fury. Quinnox had seized the hand of Mr. Hobbs on seeing help for King and was pulling him up before him. There was nothing for Truxton to do but to accept the timely help of his rival. An instant later he was up behind him and they were off after the last of the dragoons.
"If you don't mind, Count, I'll try my luck," grated the American. Holding on with one arm, he turned and fired repeatedly in the direction of the howling crowd of rascals.