"But, Excellency, nothing can be done until the morning. If you will wait——" "For another visit from your friends? no." "Not my friends, Excellency. I am an honest man. But as you will. I will awaken the ostler and leave him in charge of the inn." He made quickly towards the door, but Harry, who had seen through all his attempts to gain time and make an opportunity to get away, interposed. "Ring your bell there: that will waken him. But you will not leave him in charge of the house: he will come with us, and your servant also. The inn shall be shut up, and I doubt not your good fortune in escaping the attentions of the marauders will still hold. I will give you five minutes to get ready." The landlord, seeing that his last hope of communicating with his friends was gone, recognized that the game was up. His assurance collapsed; he became merely sullen. "What is it that your excellency wishes me to do?" "As I said: first to choose between complying with my demands and facing a public trial for treason at Urach." "What are your excellency’s demands?" "First make your choice." "Your excellency will guarantee my safety if I comply?" "I cannot answer for that; but I will do what I can." The man’s face gave signs of a final mental struggle; then he said: "I will do as your excellency wishes." "A wise choice: it gives you a chance of saving your neck; there is none at all the other way. A few questions first. How many travellers—let us say officers of the English army—have you trapped as you tried to trap me?" The man hesitated. "Quick!" cried Harry, "no paltering now. You know the alternative." "One, your excellency," was the reluctant, sullen admission. "And what became of the other?" "He was waylaid on the road." "The first, or the second?" "The second." "And the officer captured here—what was he like? Was he tall or short?" "He was tall, Excellency, with fair hair and blue eyes. He was always whistling." "These officers—where were they taken to?" "To the hills." "In what direction?" "Towards Geislingen." "Where are they now?" The man dropped his eyes and fidgeted. He had been growing restive under this examination; his tone had become more and more sullen. "I—I don’t know, Excellency," he stammered. "Come, refresh your memory. Remember—they have to be found; I must have an answer, and an exact description of the spot: out with it!" The landlord could hardly have looked more uncomfortable if a thumb-screw had been applied. For a few moments he strove with himself; then muttered: "I don’t know: the castle of Rauhstein—when I last heard." "And when was that?" "Yesterday." "The castle will not have moved, eh? Where is it?" "About ten miles away." "Who owns it?" "Nobody: it is a ruin. The land belongs to the Graf von Rauhstein." "But it is not so much a ruin that it cannot shelter your friends. How many do they number?" "Two hundred or more." "What are they?"