Max and I turned our horses' heads, and, as we were leaving the footbridge, saw the duke's cavalcade enter the Postern, which was perhaps three hundred yards back and north of the strip on which stood the House under the Wall.
To reach the Postern in the castle wall from the footbridge one must go well up into the town and cross the great bridge that spans the Cologne; then back along the north bank of the river by the street that leads to the Postern.

From the House under the Wall to the Postern, by way of the Cologne bridge, is a half-hour's walk, though in a direct line, as the crow flies, it may be less than three hundred yards.

Neither Max nor I knew whether our journey had been a success or a failure.
We rode leisurely back to the centre of the town, and asked a carter to direct us to Marcus Grote's inn, The Mitre.

We soon found it, and gave mine host the letter that we bore from Castleman.

Although the hour of nine in the morning had not yet struck, Max and I eagerly sought our beds, and did not rise till late in the afternoon.