them to lie down, for they had already made a long journey.  Then he woke Thekla, who leaped up gaily on finding that it was broad daylight.  Breakfast was eaten, and after a four hours’ halt they resumed their way, Thekla taking her place in the wagon again, and being carefully covered up in such a manner that a passerby would not suspect that anyone was lying under the straw and sacks at one end of the wagon.  Just at midday Malcolm heard the trampling of horses behind him and saw a party of cavalry coming along at full gallop.  The leader drew rein when he overtook the wagon.

“Have you seen anything,” he asked Malcolm, “of two seeming craftsmen, a man and a boy, journeying along the road?”

Malcolm shook his head.  “I have seen no one on foot since I started an hour since.”

Without a word the soldiers went on.  They had no reason, indeed, for believing that those for whom they were in search had taken that particular road.  As soon as Thekla’s disappearance had been discovered by the waiting woman she had hurried to the governor, and with much perturbation and many tears informed him that the young countess was missing, and that her couch had not been slept on.  The governor had at once hurried to the spot.  The count and countess resolutely refused to state what had become of their daughter.

The sentries had all been strictly questioned, and it was found that the mender of clocks had, when he left, been accompanied by an apprentice whom the sentry previously on duty asserted had not entered with him.  The woman was then closely questioned; she asserted stoutly that she knew nothing whatever of the affair.  The count had commissioned her to obtain a craftsman to set the clock in order, and she had bethought her of a young man whose acquaintance she had made some time previously, and who had informed her in the course of conversation that he had come from Nuremberg, and was a clockmaker by trade, and was at present out of work.  She had met him, she said, on several occasions, and as he was a pleasant youth and comely, when he had spoken to her of marriage she had not been averse, now it was plain he had deceived her; and here she began to cry bitterly and loudly.

Her story seemed probable enough, for any friend of the count who had intended to carry off his daughter would naturally have begun by ingratiating himself with her attendant.  She was, however, placed in confinement for a time.  The count and countess were at once removed to the fortress.  Orders were given that the town should be searched thoroughly, and any person answering to the description which the governor was able to give of the supposed clockmaker should be arrested, while parties of horse were despatched along all the roads with orders to arrest and bring to Prague any craftsman or other person accompanied by a young boy whom they might overtake by the way.  Several innocent peasants with their sons were pounced