"Quick!" cried Wogan; "we have lost too much time."
"A bare twenty minutes," said Gaydon.
"A good twelve hours," said Wogan.
Gaydon lashed the horses into a gallop, the horses strained at their
collars, the carriage raced out of the town and up the slopes of the
Brenner. The princess Clementina had been rescued from her prison.
"But we must keep her free!" cried Wogan, as he blew through his gloves
upon his frozen fingers. "Faster! Faster!"
The incline was steep, the snow clogged the wheels, the horses sank deep
in it. Gaydon might ply his whip as he would, the carriage might lurch
and leap from side to side; the pace was all too slow for Wogan.
"We have lost twelve hours," he cried. "Oh, would to God we were come to
Italy!" And turning backwards he strained his eyes down through the
darkness and snow to the hidden roofs of Innspruck, almost fearing to
see the windows from one end of the town to the other leap to a blaze of
light, and to hear a roar of many voices warn him that the escape was
discovered. But the only cry that he heard came from the lips of Mrs.
Misset, who put her head from the carriage and bade him stop.
Gaydon brought the horses to a standstill three miles out of Innspruck.