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"We must choose which of us three shall stay behind," said he. "Which of us two," Misset corrected, pointing to Gaydon and himself. "When the Princess drives into Bologna, Charles Wogan, who first had the high heart to dare this exploit, the brain to plot, the hand to execute it, Charles Wogan must ride at her side, not Misset, not Gaydon. I take no man's honours."
"Then we must use the more precautions," said Wogan. He had no doubt whatever that somehow he would bring the Princess safely out of her prison to Bologna. It could not be that she was born to be wasted. Misset, however, was not so confident upon the matter. "A strange, imperturbable man is Charles Wogan," said he to Gaydon and O'Toole the same evening.
The expedition which Wogan and Gaydon showed was matched by the Princess. For while they were fastening the last buckles, the door at the top of the stairs opened, and again that night Clementina whispered, "I am ready." "Come!" replied Wogan. She wore a scarlet cloak upon her shoulders, and muffling it about her head she ran down with Mrs. Misset.
The man at the table looked up quickly. "Misset." The man at the window turned impatiently. "I have an idea." Misset shrugged his shoulders. Gaydon said, "Let us hear it." O'Toole drew himself up; his chair no longer creaked, it groaned and cracked. "It is a lottery," said he, "and we have made our fortunes. We three are the winners, and so our names are not crossed out."
Misset, Gaydon, and O'Toole waited for her coming. Not a word was said; but their eyes spoke their admiration of the woman, their knees expressed their homage to the Queen. There was a fire blazing on the hearth, Mrs. Misset had a dry change of clothes ready and warm. Wogan laid the Princess's bundle on a chair, and with Gaydon and O'Toole went down the stairs. "The horses?" he asked.
When the Princess turned over on her side, and Wogan stepped on tiptoe to the door and Gaydon peeped through the window, Misset laid down his knife and fork, and drawing a flask from his pocket emptied its contents into an earthenware water-jug which stood upon the table. O'Toole, for his part, simply continued to eat. "He is getting off his horse," said Gaydon.
Would you, Wogan, tell your wife if you had one? Misset wouldn't tell his wife." Misset interrupted him. "What have you drank since I went out of the room?" he asked roughly. He took up the water-jug and turned it topsy-turvy. It was quite empty. "Only water," said O'Toole, dreamily, and he laughed again. "Now I wouldn't mind telling my wife that," said he.
For though he bawled for the landlord it was in a weak, hoarse voice, which did not reach beyond the door. Misset looked at him with sympathy. "You have no doubt come far," said he; "and the landlord's a laggard. Here's something that may comfort you till he comes;" and he filled a glass half full with red Tyrol wine from the bottle at his elbow. The man thanked him and advanced to the table.
Misset were awakened; Clementina and Wogan were alone in the darkness. She leaned forward to him and said in a low voice, "Tell me of the King. I shall make mistakes in this new world. Will he have patience with me while I learn?" She had spoken upon the same strain in the darkness of the staircase only the night before. Wogan gently laughed her fears aside.
"They may be few who follow us. But who is he ahead?" Misset did not know. "I can tell you," said Clementina, with a slight hesitation. "It is the Prince of Baden, and he travels to Italy." Wogan remembered a certain letter which his King had written to him from Rome; and the hesitation in the girl's voice told him the rest of the story.
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