“The room is empty,” came a voice from above him.

“Look to the window!” cried Peter of Blentz, and then Barney Custer let go his hold upon the sill and dropped into the blackness below.

His fall was a short one, for the window had been directly over a low shed at the side of the inn.  Upon the roof of this the American landed, and from there he dropped to the courtyard without mishap.  Glancing up, he saw the heads of three men peering from the window of the room he had just quitted.

“There he is!” cried one, and instantly the three turned back into the room.  As Barney fled from the courtyard he heard the rattle of hasty footsteps upon the rickety stairway of the inn.

Choosing an alley rather than a street in which he might run upon soldiers at any moment, he moved quickly yet cautiously away from the inn.  Behind him he could hear the voices of many men.  They were raised to a high pitch by excitement.  It was clear to Barney that there were many more than the original three—­Prince Peter had, in all probability, enlisted the aid of the military.

Could he but reach the frontier with his stolen passes he would be comparatively safe, for the rugged mountains of Lutha offered many places of concealment, and, too, there were few Luthanians who did not hate Peter of Blentz most cordially—­among the men of the mountains at least.  Once there he could defy a dozen Blentz princes for the little time that would be required to carry him into Serbia and comparative safety.

As he approached a cross street a couple of squares from the inn he found it necessary to pass beneath a street lamp.  For a moment he paused in the shadows of the alley listening.  Hearing nothing moving in the street, Barney was about to make a swift spring for the shadows upon the opposite side when it occurred to him that it might be safer to make assurance doubly sure by having a look up and down the street before emerging into the light.

It was just as well that he did, for as he thrust his head around the corner of the building the first thing that his eyes fell upon was the figure of an Austrian sentry, scarcely three paces from him.  The soldier was standing in a listening attitude, his head half turned away from the American.  The sounds coming from the direction of the inn were apparently what had attracted his attention.

Behind him, Barney was sure he heard evidences of pursuit.  Before him was certain detection should he attempt to cross the street.  On either hand rose the walls of buildings.  That he was trapped there seemed little doubt.

He continued to stand motionless, watching the Austrian soldier.  Should the fellow turn toward him, he had but to withdraw his head within the shadow of the building that hid his body.  Possibly the man might turn and take his beat in the opposite direction.  In which case Barney was sure he could dodge across the street, undetected.