I am here."

The tramp of horse's hoofs, the voices of men speaking in whispers.

"Colonel von Rochow expects your grace. The whole fortress is at your
service. He will defend you to the last man, and would rather blow the
whole fortress into the air than surrender you to the enemy."

"Yes, better be blown up by gunpowder, than fall into an enemy's hands!"
cries the count, vaulting with glad heart into the saddle.

"Are you ready, my friends?"

"Yes, we are ready."

The count gave the word of command, "Forward!" and grasped tighter his
horse's reins.

"Halt! halt!" called a loud voice, and the shadow which had crept behind
them now changed into the form of a tall and powerful man, who sprang
through the gate and seized the count's horse by the bridle.

"Back!" shouted Adolphus Schwarzenberg furiously.

"Halt! halt!" cried the other. "You shall not escape. In the name of
Colonel von Burgsdorf I arrest you, Count John Adolphus von
Schwarzenberg."

"Who are you, poor man, who are you who dares to oppose me?"

"I am the police master Brandt. I arrest you in the name of the Stadtholder
in the Mark!"

"Wretched traitor! You swore fidelity to my father, and have now become
the tool of his enemies. Hands off! It will cost you your life! Back!"

"No, I will not leave you, I arrest you. You must stay here!"

"Let us make an end of this, count," shouted von Waldow "The night is so
pitch-dark that we can not distinguish friend from foe, else I would have
shot him long ago."

"For the last time, hands off my horse, or I shall shoot you."

"For the last time. Yield peaceably, or I shall shoot you. Living or dead
I must keep you, I have--"

A flash, the report of a pistol, a death groan interrupted the police
master's words. The three horsemen bounded forward into the night. Forward
at breakneck speed, but for the sand, that dreadful sand. This is the
Rehberg, they know it by the sand in which the horses sink, from which
they extricate themselves only to sink again. Yet what matters it if they
do make rather slow progress? They will surely reach Spandow before
daybreak, and Colonel von Burgsdorf will be cheated out of his precious
prisoners.

What is that? What strange sound does the night wind bear to the three
riders? Simultaneously all three turn in their saddles and listen.

They hear it quite plainly. It is the noise made by trotting horses. It
comes on--it comes nearer.

"Wallenrodt, Waldow! We are pursu