It was now nearly nine.

It would have been easy for him, whose uniform was a voucher for his message, to gain his way through.

But how could Amos Green, a foreigner and a civilian, hope to pass?
It was impossible, clearly impossible.
And yet, somehow, in spite of the impossibility, he still clung to a vague hope that a man so full of energy and resource might find some way out of the difficulty.
And then the thought of escape occurred to his mind.

Might he not even now be in time, perhaps, to carry his own message?
Who were these men who had seized him?
They had said nothing to give him a hint as to whose tools they were.

Monsieur and the dauphin occurred to his mind.
Probably one or the other.