rather a handsome fellow, but pale and
emaciated. He wore a trooper's uniform, and Maurice, swearing softly,
concluded that his dash for liberty had come to naught. He, too, held
a revolver in his hand, but he dared not raise it. There was a certain
expression on the trooper's face which precluded any arguing.

"If you move," the trooper said, in a mild voice; "if you utter a sound,
I'll blow off the top of your cursed head!"

CHAPTER XXIV. THE PRISONER OF THE RED CHATEAU

There the two stood, mottled in the moonshine and shadow, with wild
eyes and nostrils distended, the one triumphant, the other raging and
impotent. Maurice was growing weary of fortune's discourtesies. He gazed
alternately from his own revolver, lying at his feet, to the one in
the hand of this unexpected visitant. Only two miles between him and
freedom, yet he must turn back. The Colonel had reckoned without Madame,
and therefore without reason. This man had probably got around in front
of him when he climbed the tree. He turned sullenly and started to walk
away, expecting to be followed.

"Halt! Where the devil are you going?"

"Why, back to your cursed chateau!" Maurice answered surlily.

The strange trooper laughed discordantly. "Back to the chateau? I think
not. Now, then, right about face--march! Aye, toward the frontier; and
if I have to go on alone, so much the worse for you. I've knocked in one
man's head; if necessary, I'll blow off the top of yours. You know the
way back to Bleiberg, I don't; that is why I want your company. Now
march."

But Maurice did not march; he was filled with curiosity. "Are you a
trooper in Madame the duchess's household?" he asked.

"No, curse you!"

"Who are you, then?"

"Come, come; this will not pass. No tricks; you have been following me
these twenty minutes."

"The deuce I have!" exclaimed Maurice, bewildered. "To Bleiberg, is it?"

"And without loss of time. When we cross the Thalians I shall be
perfectly willing to parley with you."

"To Bleiberg, then," said Maurice. "Since that is my destination, the
devil I care how I get there."

"Do you mean to tell me that you are going to Bleiberg?" surprise
mingling with his impatience.

"No place else."

"Are you a spy?" menacingly.

"No more than you."

"But that uniform!"

"I fancy yours looks a good deal like it," Maurice replied testily.

"I confess I never saw you before, and your tongue has a foreign twist,"
with growing doubt