Sapt turned the key. The Lieutenant entered, hurried, breathless, pale.
"Well?" asked Sapt.
"He has got away?" cried Rudolf, guessing in a moment the misfortune that had brought Bernenstein back.
"Yes, he's got away. Just as we left the town and reached the open road towards Tarlenheim, he said, 'Are we going to walk all the way?' I was not loth to go quicker, and we broke into a trot. But I—ah, what a pestilent fool I am!"
"Never mind that,—go on."
"Why, I was thinking of him and my task, and having a bullet ready for him, and"
"Of everything except your horse?" guessed Sapt, with a grim smile.
"Yes; and the horse pecked and stumbled, and I fell forward on his neck. I put out my arm to recover myself, and—I jerked my revolver on to the ground."
"And he saw?"
"He saw, curse him! For a second he waited; then he smiled, and turned, and dug his spurs in and was off, straight across country towards Strelsau. Well, I was off my horse in a moment, and I fired three times after him."
"You hit?" asked Rudolf.
"I think so. He shifted the reins from one hand to the other and wrung his arm.
