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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

"Rupert of Hentzau"

The queen sprang up,
Rudolf came out, Sapt turned the key. The lieutenant entered,
hurried, breathless, pale.
"Well?" asked Sapt.
"He has got away?" cried Rudolf, guessing in a moment the
misfortune that had brought Bernenstein back.
"Yes, he's got away. Just as we left the town and reached the
open road towards Tarlenheim, he said, 'Are we going to walk all
the way? I was not loath to go quicker, and we broke into a trot.
But I--ah, what a pestilent fool I am!"
"Never mind that--go on."
"Why, I was thinking of him and my task, and having a bullet
ready for him, and--"
"Of everything except your horse?" guessed Sapt, with a grim
smile.
"Yes; and the horse pecked and stumbled, and I fell forward on
his neck. I put out my arm to recover myself, and--I jerked my
revolver on to the ground."
"And he saw?"
"He saw, curse him. For a second he waited; then he smiled, and
turned, and dug his spurs in and was off, straight across country
towards Strelsau. Well, I was off my horse in a moment, and I
fired three times after him."
"You hit?" asked Rudolf.
"I think so. He shifted the reins from one hand to the other and
wrung his arm. I mounted and made after him, but his horse was
better than mine and he gained ground.


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