I faced the immediate necessity for action. What her strange words might
mean could not be interpreted; I made no attempt to comprehend. Now I
must find means of escape, and learn the truth later. I opened the door
cautiously, and stepped without, every nerve taut, every muscle braced
for action. It was a star-lit night, and the numerous rear windows of the
mansion cast a glare of light for some distance. The dark shadow of a
high fence alone promised concealment, and, holding my sword tightly, I
crept in that direction, breathing again more freely as I reached its
protection unobserved. There was a guard stationed before the stable
door--a Grenadier, from the outline of his hat--and others, a little
group, were sitting on the grass a dozen feet away. If they had not been
already warned I might gain a horse by boldness, but the probability was
that here was where Carter had mounted his squad, and I would merely walk
forward into a trap. I had better chance the possibility that some
visitor had left a horse tied in front, or to one of the stands. With
this possibility in mind I turned, and skirted the house, making myself
as inconspicuous as possible. There were soldiers on the outside steps; I
heard their voices without seeing them, and was thus driven to run
swiftly across an open space, memory guiding me toward the opposite
pavilion. Breathless, with heart beating fast, I crouched low in the
shadow, endeavoring to make out my more immediate surroundings. There
were no horses there, but I could clearly distinguish the stomping of
restless hoofs somewhere to the right. As I straightened up, determined
upon discovering an empty saddle if possible, the figure of a man
suddenly loomed directly in front, advancing toward me. In startled
surprise I took one step backward, but was too late. Already the eyes of
the newcomer had perceived my presence, and he sprang forward, tugging at
his sword.

"Hold on there! hold on!" he commanded shortly. "Who are you? What the