The Prince nodded and read out the names.

"Gaydon, Misset, O'Toole. They are good men?"

"The flower of Ireland. Those three names have been my comfort these
last three weeks."

"And all the three at Schlestadt. How comes that about?"

"Your Highness, they are all three officers in Dillon's Irish regiment,
and so have that further advantage."

"Advantage?"

"Your Highness," said Wogan, "Schlestadt is near to Strasbourg, which
again is not far from Innspruck, and being in French territory would be
the most convenient place to set off from."

There was a sound of a door shutting; the Prince started, looked at
Wogan, and laughed. He had been upon the verge of yielding; but for that
door Wogan felt sure he would have yielded. Now, however, he merely
walked away to the Countess of Berg, and sitting beside her asked her to
play a particular tune. But he still held the slip of paper in his hand
and paid but a scanty heed to the music, now and then looking doubtfully
towards Wogan, now and then scanning that long list of names. His lips,
too, moved as though he was framing the three selected names, Gaydon,
Misset, O'Toole, and "Schlestadt" as a bracket uniting them. Then he
suddenly rose up and crossed the room to Wogan.