“Permit me,” interrupted Odell-Carney with grave dignity.  “Your friend, Miss Fowler, is not in gaol.  He is out—­”

“Not in gaol!” she almost shrieked.  “I knew it!  I knew it could not go wrong.  But where is he?”

“He’s out on bail.  We bailed him out at half-past ten—­Wot!” She had leaped to her feet with a short scream and was clutching his arm frantically.

“On bail?  At half-past ten?  Good heavens, then—­then—­oh, are you sure?”

“Poshtive, abs’lutely.”

“Then what has become of my nine thousand crowns?”

“You c’n search me, Conshance,” murmured Freddie.

“I don’ know what you ‘re talkin’ ’bout, Cons’ance,” said Mr. Rodney in a very hurt tone.  “We—­we put up security f’r five thous’n dollars, that’s what we did.  This is all the thanks we getsh for it.  Ungrachful!”

Constance had been thinking very hard, paying no heed to his maudlin defence.  It rapidly was dawning upon her that these men had secured her lover’s release on bail at half-past ten o’clock, an hour and a half before she had given her bribe of nine thousand crowns to the gaoler.  That being the case, it was becoming clear to her that the wretch deliberately had taken the money, knowing that Brock was not in the prison, and with the plain design to rob her of the amount.  It was a transaction in which he could be perfectly secure; bribing of public officials is a solemn offence in Austria and Germany.  She could have no recourse, could make no complaint.  Her money was gone!

“Where is Mr. Br—­Mr. Medcroft?” she demanded, her voice full of anxiety.  If he were out of gaol, why had he failed to come to the meeting-place?

“He’s locked in,” persisted Freddie.

“That’s just it, Miss Fowler,” explained Odell-Carney glibly.  “You shee—­see, it was this way:  we got him out on bail on condition he’d ’pear to-morrow morning ’fore the magistrate.  Affer we’d got him out, he insisted on coming ’round here so’s he could run away with you.  That wassen a gennelmanly thing to do, affer we’d put up our money.  We coul’n’ afford have him runnin’ away with you.  So we had him locked in a room on top floor of the hotel, where he can’t get out ‘n’ leave us to hold the bag, don’t you see.  He almos’ cried an’ said you’d be waitin’ at the church or—­or something like that bally song, don’t you know, an’ as a lash reshort, to keep him quiet like a good ferrer—­feller, we said we’d come an’ get you an’ ’splain everything saffis—­sasfac—­ahem! sassisfac’rly.”

She looked at then with burning eyes.  Slow rage was coming to the flaming point; And for this she had sat and suffered for hours in a street restaurant!  For this!  Her eyes fell upon the limp horses and the dejected stable-boy.  Two hours!

“You will release him at once!” she stormed.  “Do you hear?  It is outrageous!”

Without another word to the dazed trio, she rushed to the curb and commanded the boy to assist her into the saddle.  He did so, in stupid amazement.  Then she instructed him to mount and follow her to the Tirol as fast as he could ride.  The horses were tearing off in the darkness a moment later.