It was here that the long night's journey came to an end.
“Gentlemen,” said the Colonel, dismounting, “permit me, in the name of her Highness, to offer you the hospitality of Red Chateau. Consider; will you lighten my task by giving me your word of honor to make no attempt to escape? Escape is possible, but not probable. There are twenty fresh men and horses in the stables. Come, be reasonable. It will be pleasanter on both sides.”
“So far as I'm concerned,” said Maurice, who needed liberty not half so much as sleep, “I pass my word.”
Fitzgerald gazed about him. “Very well,” he said, as he saw the futility of a struggle.
“Your humble servant, Messieurs,” touching his cap. “Take the ropes off their ankles, men.”
When Maurice was lifted from his horse and placed on the ground, his legs suddenly bent under him, and he went sprawling to the grass. A trooper sprang to his assistance.
The Englishman was affected likewise, and it was some moments before either could walk. They were conducted to a chamber high up in the left wing, which overlooked the forest and the mountains. It was a large airy room, but the windows were barred and there were double locks on the doors. The Colonel followed them into the room and pointed to the table.
“Breakfast, Messieurs, and a good sleep for you till this noon. As for the rest, let that take care of itself.” And he left them.
Maurice, after having tried all the bars and locks in answer to his conscience, gave his attention to the breakfast. On lifting the covers he found fish, eggs, toast and coffee.
“Here's luck!” he cried. “We were expected.”
“Curse it, Maurice!” Fitzgerald began pacing the room.
“No, no,” said Maurice; “let us eat it; that's what it's here for,” and he fell to with that vigor known only to healthy blood.
“Force of habit,” breaking the toast. “What's the use of wasting powder? Because I have shown only the exterior, our friend the Colonel has already formed an opinion of me. I am brave if need be, but young and careless. In a day or so--for I suppose we are not to be liberated at once--he'll forget to use proper caution in respect to me. And then, 'who can say?' as the Portuguese says when he hasn't anything else to say. They'll keep a strict watch over you, my friend, because you've played the lion too much. Just before I left the States, as you call them, a new slang phrase was going the rounds;--'it is better to play the fox some of the time than to roar all of the time.' Ergo, be foxy. Take it cool. So long as you haven't got that mint packed about your person, the game breaks even.”