 Chapter 5 of Rupert of Hentzau This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please go to LibriVox.org. Recording by Andy Minter. Rupert of Hentzau Taken from the Memoirs of Fritz von Talenheim. By Anthony Hope. Chapter 5. An Audience of the King. Having come thus far in the story that I set out to tell, I have half a mind to lay down my pen and leave untold how, from the moment that Mr. Rassendale came again to Zender, a fury of chance seemed to catch us all in a whirlwind, carrying us wither we would not, and ever driving us onwards to fresh enterprises, breathing into us a recklessness that stood at no obstacle, and a devotion to the queen and to the man she loved that swept away all other feeling. The ancients held there to be a fate which would have its fill, though women wept and men died, and none could tell whose was the guilt nor who felt innocent. Thus did they blindly wrong God's providence, yet save that we are taught to believe that all is ruled, we are as blind as they, and are still left wondering why all that is true and generous and loves own fruit must turn so often to woe and shame, exacting tears and blood. For myself I would leave the thing untold, lest a word of it should seem to stain her whom I serve. It is by her own command that I write, that all may one day, in time's fullness be truly known, and those condemn who are without sin, while they pity whose own hearts have fought the equal fight. So much for her and him, for us less needs to be said. It was not ours to weigh her actions, we served her, him we had served, she was our queen, we bore heaven a grudge that he was not our king. The worst of what befell was not of our own planning, no, nor of our hoping. It came a thunderbolt from the hand of Rupert, flung carelessly between a curse and a laugh. Its coming entangled us more tightly in the net of circumstances. Then there arose in us that strange and overpowering desire of which I must tell later, filling us with zeal to accomplish our purpose, and to force Mr. Rassendill himself into the way we chose. Led by this star we pressed on through the darkness, until at length the deeper darkness fell that stayed our steps. We also stand for judgment, even as she and he. So I will write, but I will write plainly and briefly, setting down what I must and no more, yet seeking to give truly the picture of that time, and to preserve as long as may be the portrait of the man whose like I have not known. Yet the fear is always upon me, that failing to show him as he was, I may fail also in gaining an understanding of how he wrought on us one and all till his cause became in all things the right, and to seat him where he should be our highest duty and our nearest wish. For he said little, and that straight to the purpose, no high-flown words of his live in my memory, and he asked nothing for himself. Yet his speech and his eyes went straight to men's hearts and women's, so that they held their lives in an eager attendance on his bidding. Do I rave? Then zapped was a rave or two, for zapped was foremost in the business. At ten minutes to eight o'clock, young Bernstein, very admirably and smartly occluded, took his stand outside the main entrance of the castle. He wore a confident air that became almost a swagger as he strolled to and fro past the motionless sentries. He had not long to wait. On the stroke of eight a gentleman, well-horsed but entirely unattended, rode up the carriage-drive. Bernstein, crying, Ah, it is the Count, ran to meet him. Rischenheim dismounted, holding out his hand to the young officer. My dear Bernstein said he, for they were acquainted with one another. Your punctual, my dear Rischenheim, and it's lucky, for the King awaits you most impatiently. I didn't expect to find him up so soon, remarked Rischenheim. Up he's been up these two hours. Indeed we've had the devil of a time of it. Treat him carefully, my dear Count. He's in one of his troublesome humours. For example, but I mustn't keep you waiting. Pray, follow me. No, but pray tell me, otherwise I might say something unfortunate. Well, he woke at six, and when the barber came to trim his beard there were, imagine it, Count, no less than seven grey hairs. The King fell into a passion. Take it off, he said. Take it off. I won't have a grey beard. Take it off. Well, what would you? A man is free to be shaved if he chooses. So much more a King. So it's taken off. His beard? His beard, my dear Count. Then, after thanking Heaven, it was gone, and declaring he looked ten years younger, he cried. The Count of Lutzau, Rischenheim, breakfasts with me today. What is there for breakfast? And he had the chef out of his bed. But by Heaven's I shall get into trouble if I stop here chattering. He's waiting most eagerly for you. Come along. And Bernstein, passing his arm through the Counts, walked him rapidly into the castle. The Count of Lutzau, Rischenheim was a young man. He was no more versed in affairs of this kind than Bernstein, and it cannot be said that he showed so much aptitude for them. He was decidedly pale this morning, his manner was uneasy, and his hands trembled. He did not lack courage, but that rarer virtue, coolness, and the importance, or perhaps the shame, of his mission upset the balance of his nerves. Hardly noting where he went, he allowed Bernstein to lead him quickly and directly towards the room where Rudolf Rassendil was, not doubting that he was being conducted to the King's presence. Breakfast is ordered for nine, said Bernstein, but he wants to see you before. He has something important to say. And you have perhaps the same? I? Oh, no, a small matter, but of a private nature. Quite so, quite so. Oh, I don't ask any questions, my dear Count. Shall I find the King alone? asked Rischenheim nervously. I don't think you'll find anybody with him, no, nobody, I think. Answered Bernstein with a grave and reassuring air. They arrived now at the door. Here Bernstein paused. I am ordered to wait outside till his Majesty summons me. He said, in a low voice, as though he feared that the irritable King would hear him. I'll open the door and announce you. Pray keep him in a good temper for all our sakes. And he flung the door open, saying, Sire, the Count of Lutzau Rischenheim has the honour to wait on your Majesty. With this he shut the door promptly and stood against it. Nor did he move save once, and then only to take out his revolver and carefully inspect it. The Count advanced, bowing low, and striving to conceal a visible agitation. He saw the King in his armchair. The King wore a suit of brown tweeds, and on the better for being crushed into a bundle the night before. His face was in deep shadow. But Rischenheim perceived that the beard was indeed gone. The King held out his hand to Rischenheim, and motioned him to sit in a chair, just opposite him, and within a foot of the window-curtains. I am delighted to see you, my lord, said the King. Rischenheim looked up. Rudolf's voice had once been so light the King's that no man could tell the difference. But in the last year or two the King's had grown weaker, and Rischenheim seemed to be struck by the vigour of the tones in which he was addressed. As he looked up there was a slight movement in the curtains by him. He died away when the Count gave no further signs of suspicion, but Rudolf had noted his surprise. The voice, when it next spoke, was subdued. Most delighted pursued Mr. Ascendil. For I am pestered beyond endurance about those dogs. I can't get the coats right. I have tried everything, but they won't come as I wish. Now yours are magnificent. You're very good, Sire, but I ventured to ask an audience in order to positively you must tell me about the dogs. And before Zappt comes, for I want nobody to hear but myself. Your Majesty expects Colonel Zappt. In about twenty minutes, said the King, with a glance at the clock on the mantelpiece, at this Rischenheim became all on fire to get his errand done, before Zappt appeared. The coats of your dogs, pursued the King, grow so beautifully. A thousand pardons, Sire, but long and silky, that I despair of. I have a most urgent and important matter, persisted Rischenheim in agony. Rudolf threw himself back in his chair with a peever-shear. Oh, well, if you must, you must. What is this greater fair count? Let us have it over, and then you can tell me about the dogs. Rischenheim looked round the room. There was nobody. The curtains were still. The King's left hand caressed his beardless chin. The right was hidden from his visitor by the small table that stood between them. Sire, my cousin, the Count of Hentzau, has entrusted me with a message. Rudolf suddenly assumed a stern air. I can hold no communication directly or indirectly with the Count of Hentzau, said he. Pardon me, Sire, pardon me. A document has come into the Count's hands, which is of vital importance to your Majesty. The Count of Hentzau, my Lord, has incurred my heaviest displeasure. Sire, it is in the hopes of atoning for his offences that he has sent me here to-day. There is a conspiracy against your Majesty's honour. By whom, my Lord? asked Rudolf, in cold and doubting tones, by those who are very near your Majesty's person and very high in your Majesty's love. Name them. Sire, I dare not. You would not believe me, but your Majesty will believe written evidence. Show it me, and quickly, we may be interrupted. Sire, I have a copy. Oh, a copy, my Lord, sneered Rudolf. My cousin has the original, and will forward it at your Majesty's command. A copy of a letter of her Majesty's. Of the Queen's? Yes, Sire, it is addressed to- Rischenheim paused. Well, my Lord, to whom? To Mr. Rudolf Rassendil. Now Rudolf played his part well. He did not feign indifference, but allowed his voice to tremble with emotion, as he stretched out his hand and said in a hoarse whisper, Give it to me! Give it to me! Rischenheim's eyes sparkled. The shot had told. The King's attention was his. The coats of the dogs were forgotten. Plainly he had stirred the suspicions and jealousy of the King. My cousin, he continued, conceives it his duty to lay the letter before your Majesty. He obtained it. A curse on how he got it. Give it to me! Rischenheim unbuttoned his coat. Then his waistcoat. The head of a revolver showed in the belt round his waist. He undid the flap of a pocket in the lining of his waistcoat, and he began to draw out a sheet of paper. But Rudolf, great as his powers of self-control were, was but human. When he saw the paper, he lent forward half rising from his chair. As a result, his face came beyond the shadow of the curtain, and the full morning light beat on it. As Rischenheim took the paper out, he looked up. He saw the face that glared so eagerly at him. His eyes met Rassendil's. A sudden suspicion seized him. For the face, though the King's face in every feature, bore a stern resolution and witnessed a vigor that was not the King's. In that instant the truth, or a hint of it, flashed across his mind. He gave a half-articulate cry. In one hand he crumpled up the paper. The other flew to his revolver. But he was too late. Rudolf's left hand encircled his hand and the paper in an iron grip. Rudolf's revolver was on his temple, and an arm was stretched out from behind the curtain, holding another barrel full before his eyes. While a dry voice said, hmm, you'd better take it quietly, then Zapp stepped out. Rischenheim had no words to meet the sudden transformation of the interview. He seemed to be able to do nothing but stare at Rudolf Rassendil. Zapp wasted no time. He snatched the count's revolver and stowed it in his own pocket. Now, take the paper, said he to Rudolf, and his barrel held Rischenheim motionless, while Rudolf wrenched the precious document from his fingers. Look if it's the right one. No, don't read it through, just look. Is it right? That's good. Now put your revolver to his head again. I'm going to search him. Stand up, sir. They compelled the count to stand up, and Zapp subjected him to a search that made the concealment of another copy, or of any other document impossible. Then they let him sit down again. His eyes seemed fascinated by Rudolf Rassendil. Yet you've seen me before, I think, smiled Rudolf. I seem to remember you as a boy in Strelso when I was there. Now tell us, sir, where did you leave this cousin of yours? For the plan was to find out from Rischenheim where Rupert was, and to set off in pursuit of Rupert, as soon as they had disposed of Rischenheim. But even as Rudolf spoke, there was a violent knock at the door. Rudolf sprang to open it. Zapp and his revolver kept their places. Bernstein was on the threshold, open-mouthed. The king's servant has just gone by. He's looking for Colonel Zapp. The king has been walking in the drive, and learnt from a sentry of Rischenheim's arrival. I told the man that you had taken the count for a stroll round the castle, and I did not know where you were. He says the king may come himself at any moment. Zapp considered for one short instant. Then he was back by the prisoner's side. We must talk again later on, he said in low, quick tones. Now you're going to breakfast with the king. I shall be there, and Bernstein. Remember not a word of your errand, not a word of this gentleman, and a word, a sign, a hint, a gesture, a motion, as God lives I'll put a bullet through your head, and a thousand kings shan't stop me. Rudolf, get behind the curtain. If there's no alarm, you must jump through the window into the moat and swim for it. All right, said Rudolf Rassendil. I can read my letter there. Burn it, you fool. When I've read it, I'll eat it, if you like, but not before. Bernstein looked in again. Quick, quick, the man will be back, he whispered. Bernstein, did you hear what I said to the count? Yes, I heard. Then you know your part. Now, gentlemen, to the king. Well, said an angry voice outside, I wondered how long I was to be kept waiting. Rudolf Rassendil skipped behind the curtain. Zapp's revolver slipped into a handy pocket. Rischenheim stood with arms dangling by his side, and his waistcoat half unbuttoned. Young Bernstein was bowing low on the threshold, and protesting that the king's servant had but just gone, and that they were on the point of waiting on his majesty. Then the king walked in, pale and full bearded. Ah, count, said he, I'm glad to see you. If they told me you were here, you shouldn't have waited a minute. You're very dark in here, Zapp. Why don't you draw back the curtains? Then the king moved towards the curtain, behind which Rudolf was. Allow me, sir, cried Zapp, darting past him and laying a hand on the curtain. A malicious gleam of pleasure shot into Rischenheim's eyes. In truth, sir, continued the constable, his hand on the curtain. We were so interested in what the count was saying about his dogs. By heaven I forgot, cried the king. Yes, yes, the dogs. Now, tell me, count, your pardon, sir, put in young Bernstein, but breakfast waits. Yes, yes, we'll have them together. Breakfast and the dogs. Come along, count. The king passed his arm through Rischenheim's, adding to Bernstein, lead the way, Lieutenant, and you, Colonel, come with us. They went out. Zapp stopped and locked the door behind him. Why do you lock the door, Colonel? asked the king. There are some papers in my drawer there, sir. But why not lock the door? I have lost the key, sir, like the fool I am, said the Colonel. The count of Lutzauer Rischenheim did not make a very good breakfast. He sat opposite to the king. Colonel Zapp placed himself at the back of the king's chair, and Rischenheim saw the muzzle of a revolver resting on top of the chair, just behind his majesty's right ear. Bernstein stood in soldierly rigidity by the door. Rischenheim looked round him once and met a most significant gaze. You're eating nothing, said the king. I hope you're not indisposed. I am a little upset, sir, stammered Rischenheim, and truly enough. Well, tell me about the dogs while I eat, for I am hungry. Rischenheim began to disclose his secret. His statement was decidedly wanting in clearness. The king grew impatient. I don't understand, said he, testily. And he pushed his chair back so quickly that Zapp skipped away and hid the revolver behind his back. Zauer cried Rischenheim half-rising. A cough from Lieutenant von Bernstein interrupted him. Tell it me over again, said the king. Rischenheim did as he was bid. Ah, I understand a little better now. Do you see, Zapp, that he turned his head round towards the constable? Zapp had just time to whisk the revolver away. The count lent forward towards the king. Lieutenant von Bernstein coughed. The count sank back again. A perfect desire, said Colonel Zapp. I understood all the count wishes to convey to your majesty. Well, I understood about half, said the king, with a laugh. But perhaps that'll be enough. I think quite enough, Sauer, answered Zapp with a smile. The important matter of the dogs being thus disposed of, the king recollected that the count had asked an audience on a matter of business. Now, what did you wish to say to me, he asked, with a weary air? The dogs had been more interesting. Rischenheim looked at Zapp. The revolver was in its place. Bernstein coughed again. Yet he saw a chance. Your pardon, Sauer, said he, but we are not alone. The king lifted his eyebrows. Is the business so private? he asked. I should prefer to tell it to your majesty alone, pleaded the count. Now, Zapp was resolved not to leave Rischenheim alone with the king, for although the count, being robbed of his evidence, could do little harm concerning the letter, he would doubtless tell the king that Rudolf Rassendil was in the castle. He lent now over the king's shoulder and said with a sneer, messages from Rupert of Hansauer to exalt in matters for my poor ears, it seems. The king flushed red. Is that your business, my lord? he asked Rischenheim sternly. Your majesty does not know what my cousin is. Is it the old plea interrupted the king? He wants to come back. Is that all or is there anything else? A moment silence followed the king's words. Zapp looked full at Rischenheim and smiled as he slightly raised his right hand and showed the revolver. Bernstein coughed twice. Rischenheim sat twisting his fingers. He understood that, cost what it might, they would not let him declare his errand to the king, or betray Mr. Rassendil's presence. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth as if to speak, but still he remained silent. Well, my lord, is it the old story or something new? asked the king impatiently. Again Rischenheim sat silent. Oh, you dumb, my lord! cried the king most impatiently. It is only what you call the old story, Sire. Then let me say that you have treated me very badly in obtaining an audience of me for any such purpose, said the king. You know my decision and your cousin knows it. Thus speaking the king rose. Zapp's revolver slid into his pocket, but Lieutenant von Bernstein drew his sword and stood at the salute. He also coughed. My dear Rischenheim pursued the king more kindly. I cannot allow for your natural affection. But believe me, in this case it misleads you. Do me the favour not to open this subject again to me. Rischenheim humiliated and angry could do nothing, but bow in acknowledgement of the king's rebuke. Colonel Zapp'd see that the count is well entertained. My horse should be at the door by now. Farewell, Count. Bernstein, give me your arm. Bernstein shot a rapid glance at the constable. Zapp nodded reassuringly. Bernstein sheathed his sword and gave his arm to the king. They passed through the door, and Bernstein closed it with a backward push of his hand. But at this moment Rischenheim goaded to fury, and desperate at the trick played on him, seeing moreover that he had now only one man to deal with. May the sudden rush at the door. He reached it, and his hand was on the doorknob. But Zapp'd was upon him, and Zapp'd's revolver was at his ear. In the passage the king stopped. What are they doing in there? he asked, hearing the noise of the quick movements. I don't know, Sire, said Bernstein, and he took a step forward. No stop a minute, Lieutenant, you're pulling me along. A thousand parton, Sire. I hear nothing more now, and there was nothing to hear, for the two now stood dead silent inside the door. Nor I, Sire, will your Majesty go on? And Bernstein took another step. Your determined I shall, said the king with a laugh, and he let the young officer lead him away. Inside the room Rischenheim stood with his back against the door. He was panting for breath, and his face was flushed and working with excitement. Opposite to him stood Zapp'd, revolver in hand. Till you get to heaven, my lord, said the Constable, you'll never be nearer to it than you were in that moment. If you had opened the door I'd have shot you through the head. As he spoke there came a knock at the door. Open it, he said brusquely to Rischenheim, with a muttered curse the counterbade him. The servant stood outside with a telegram on a salver. Take it, whispered Zapp'd, and Rischenheim put out his hand. Your pardon, my lord, but this has arrived for you, said the man respectfully. Take it, whispered Zapp'd again. Give it to me, muttered Rischenheim confusedly, and he took the envelope. The servant bowed and shut the door. Open it, commanded Zapp'd. God's curse on you, cried Rischenheim in a voice that choked with passion. Eh? Oh, you can have no secrets from so good a friend as I am, my lord. Be quick and open it. The count began to open it. If you tear it up or crumple it, I'll shoot you, said Zapp'd quietly. You know you can trust my word. Now read it. By God I won't read it. Read it, I tell you, or say your prayers. The muzzle was in a foot of his head. He unfolded the telegram. Then he looked at Zapp'd. Read, said the constable. I don't understand what it means, grumbled Rischenheim. Possibly I may be able to help you. It's nothing but read, my lord. Read. Then he read. And this was the telegram. Half-nineteen Königsstrasse. A thousand thanks, my lord, and the place it's dispatched from. Strelso. Just turn it so that I can see. Oh, I don't doubt you, but seeing is believing. Ah, thanks. It's as you say. Your puzzle what it means can't. I don't know what at all what it means. How strange, because I can guess so well. You're very acute, sir. It seems to me a simple thing to guess, my lord. And pray, said Rischenheim, endeavouring to assume an easy and sarcastic air, what does your wisdom tell you that that message means? I think, my lord, that the message is an address. An address I never thought of that, but I know no half. I don't think it is Half's address. Who's then? asked Rischenheim, biting his nail and looking furtively at the constable. Why, said Zapp, the present address of Count Rupert of Hentzau. As he spoke, he fixed his eyes on the eyes of Rischenheim. He gave a short, sharp laugh, then put his revolver in his pocket and bowed to the Count. In truth, you are very convenient, my dear Count, said he. End of Chapter 5 Chapter 6 of Rupert of Hentzau. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please go to LibriVox.org. Recording by Andy Minter Rupert of Hentzau Taken from the Memoirs of Fritz von Tallenheim by Anthony Hope Chapter 6 The Task of the Queen's Servants The doctor who attended me at Wintenburg was not only discreet, but also indulgent. Perhaps he had the sense to see that little benefit would come to a sick man from fretting in helplessness on his back when he was on fire to be afoot. I fear he thought the baker's rolling pin was in my mind, but at any rate I extorted a consent from him, and was on my way home from Wintenburg not much more than twelve hours after Rudolf Rassendil left me. Thus I arrived at my own house in Strelzau on the same Friday morning that witnessed the Count of Lutzau-Ruschenheim's twofold interview with the King at the Castle of Zender. The moment I arrived, I sent James, whose assistance had been and continued to be in all respects most valuable, to dispatch a message to the Constable, acquainting him with my whereabouts, and putting myself entirely at his disposal. Zacht received the message, while the Council of War was being held, and the information it gave aided not a little in the arrangements that the Constable and Rudolf Rassendil made. What these were, I must now relate, although I fear at the risk of some tediousness. Yet that Council of War in Zender was held under no common circumstances. Cowders Ruschenheim appeared. They dared not let him out of their sight. Rudolf could not leave the room into which Zacht had locked him. The King's absence was to be short, and before he came again, Rudolf must be gone, Ruschenheim safely disposed of, and measures taken against the original letter reaching the hands for which the intercepted copy had been destined. The room was at large one. In the corner furthest from the door sat Ruschenheim, disarmed, dispirited, to all seeming ready to throw up his dangerous game, an acquiesce in any terms presented to him. Just inside the door, guarding it, if need should be, with their lives, were the other three, Bernstein, Berry and Triumphant, Zacht, Blunt and Cool, Rudolf, calm and clear-headed. The Queen awaited the result of their deliberations in her apartments, ready to act as they directed, but determined to see Rudolf before he left the castle. They conversed together in low tones. Presently, Zacht took paper and wrote. This first message was to me, and it bad me come to Zender that afternoon. Another head and another pair of hands were sadly needed. Then followed more deliberation. Rudolf took up the talking now, for his was the bold plan on which they consulted. Zacht twirled his moustache, smiling doubtfully. Yes, yes, murmured young Bernstein. His eyes are light with excitement. It's dangerous, but the best thing, said Rudolf, carefully sinking his voice yet lower, lest the prisoner should catch the lightest word of what he said. It involves my staying here till the evening. Is that possible? No, but you can leave here and hide in the forest till I join you, said Zacht. Till we join you, corrected Bernstein eagerly. No, said the Constable, you must look after our friend here. Come, Lieutenant, it's all in the Queen's service. Besides added Rudolf with a smile, neither the Colonel nor I would let you have a chance at Rupert. He's our game, isn't he, Zacht? The Colonel nodded. Rudolf in his turn took paper, and here is the message that he wrote. Holf, 19 Königstrasse, Strausthau, all well. He has what I had, but wishes to see what you have. He and I will be at the hunting lodge at ten this evening. Bring it, and meet us. The business is unsuspected. R. Rudolf threw the paper across to Zacht. Bernstein lent over the Constable's shoulder, and read it eagerly. I doubt it would bring me. Grindold zapped, throwing the paper down. It'll bring Rupert of Hansar. Why not? He'll know that the King will wish to meet him, unknown to the Queen, and also unknown to you, Zapped, since you were my friend. What place more likely for the King to choose than his hunting lodge, where he's accustomed to go when he wishes to be alone? The message will bring him. Depend on it. Why, man, Rupert would come, even if he suspected. And why should he suspect? They may have a cipher, he and Rischenheim, objected, zapped. No, or Rupert would have present the address in it. Retorted Rudolf quickly. Then, when he comes, asked Bernstein, he finds such a King as Rischenheim found, and zapped, here at his elbow. But he'll know you, objected Bernstein. Aye, I think he'll know me, said Rudolf with a smile. Meanwhile, we send for Fritz to come here and look after the King. And Rischenheim? That's your share, Lieutenant. Zapped, is anyone at Tallenheim? No, Count Stanislaus has put it at Fritz's disposal. Good. Then Fritz's two friends, the Count of Lutzauerischenheim and Lieutenant von Bernstein, will ride over there to-day. The Constable of Zender will give the Lieutenant twenty-four hours leave of absence, and the two gentlemen will pass the day and sleep at the Chateau. They will pass the day side by side, Bernstein, not losing sight of one another for an instant, and they will pass the night in the same room, and one of them will not close his eyes, nor take his hand off the butt of his revolver. Very good, sir, said young Bernstein. If he tries to escape or give any alarm, shoot him through the head, ride to the frontier, get to safe hiding, and if you can, let us know. Yes, said Bernstein simply. Zapped had chosen well, and the young officer made nothing of the peril and ruin that Her Majesty's service might ask of him. A restless movement and a weary sigh from Rischenheim attracted their attention. He had strained his ears to listen till his head ate, but the talkers had been careful, and he had heard nothing but through light on their deliberations. He had now given up his vain attempt, and sat in listless inattention, sunk in apathy. I don't think he'll give you much trouble. Whispered Zapp to Bernstein with a jerk of his tongue towards the captive. Act as if he were likely to give you much, urged Rudolph, laying his hand on the lieutenant's arm. Yes, that's a wise man's advice, nodded the constable approvingly. We were well governed, Lieutenant, when this Rudolph was king. Wasn't I also his loyal subject? asked young Bernstein. Yes, wounded in my service, added Rudolph, for he remembered how the boy, he was little more then, had been fired upon in the Park of Tarlinheim, being taken for Mr. Rassendill himself. Thus their plans were laid. If they could defeat Rupert, they would have Rischenheim at their mercy. If they could keep Rischenheim out of the way while they used his name in their trick, they had a strong chance of deluding and killing Rupert. Yes, of killing him. For that and nothing less was their purpose, as the constable of Zenda himself has told me. We would have stood on no ceremony, he said. The queen's honour was at stake, and the fellow himself an assassin. Bernstein rose and went out. He was gone about half an hour, being employed in dispatching the telegrams to Strelso. Rudolph and Zapp used the interval to explain to Rischenheim what they proposed to do with him. They asked no pledge, and he offered none. He heard what they said with a dull, uninterested air. When asked if he would go without resistance, he laughed a bitter laugh. How can I resist? he asked. I should have a bullet through my head. Why, without doubt, said Colonel Zapp, my lord, you are very sensible. Let me advise you, my lord, said Rudolph, looking down on him kindly enough. If you come safe through this affair, to add honour to your prudence and chivalry to your honour, there is still time for you to become a gentleman. He turned away, followed by a glance of anger from the count, and a grating chuckle from old Zapp. A few moments later, Bernstein returned. His errand was done, and horses for himself and Rischenheim were at the gate of the castle. After a few final words and a clasp of the hand from Rudolph, the lieutenant motioned to his prisoner to accompany him, and they too walked out together, being to all appearance willing companions, and in perfect friendliness with one another. The queen herself watched them go from the windows of her apartment, and noticed that Bernstein rode half a pace behind, and that his free hand rested on the revolver by his side. It was now well on in the morning, and the risk of Rudolph's sojourn in the castle grew greater with every moment, yet he was resolved to see the queen before he went. This interview presented no great difficulties, since Her Majesty was in the habit of coming to the Constable's room, to take his advice, or to consult with him. The hardest task was to contrive afterwards a free and unnoticed escape for Mr. Asendill. To meet this necessity, the Constable issued orders that the Company of Guards, which garrisoned the castle, should parade at one o'clock in the park, and that the servant should all, after their dinner, be granted permission to watch the maneuvers. By this means he counted on drawing off any curious eyes, and allowing Rudolph to reach the forest unobserved. They appointed a rendezvous in a handy and sheltered spot. The one thing that which they were compelled to trust to fortune was Rudolph's success in evading chance encounters while he waited. Mr. Asendill himself was confident of his ability to conceal his presence, or if need were to hide his face, that no strange tale of the king being seen wandering alone and beardless should reach the ears of the castle or the town. While Zapt was making his arrangements, Queen Flavia came to the room where Rudolph Asendill was. It was then nearing twelve, and Young Bernand Stein had been gone half an hour. Zapt attended her to the door, set a sentry at the end of the passage, with orders that her majesty should on no pretense be disturbed. Promised her very audibly to return as soon as he possibly could, and respectfully closed the door after she had entered. The constable was well aware of the value in a secret business of doing openly, all that can safely be done with openness. All of what passed at that interview I do not know, but apart Queen Flavia herself told to me, or rather to Helga, my wife, for although it was meant to reach my ear, yet to me a man she would not disclose it directly. First she learnt from Mr. Asendill the plans that had been made, and although she trembled at the danger that he must run in meeting Rupert of Hentzal, she had such love of him and such a trust in his powers, that she seemed to doubt a little of his success. But she began to reproach herself for having brought him into this peril by writing her letter. At this he took from his pocket the copy that Rischenheim had carried. He had found time to read it, and now, before her eyes, he kissed it. Had I as many lives as there are words, my Queen, he said softly, for each word I would gladly give a life. Ah, Rudolph, but you've only one life, and that's more mine than yours. Did you think we should ever meet again? I didn't know, said he, and now they were standing opposite one another. But I knew, she said, her eyes shining brightly, I knew always that we should meet once more, not how, not where, but just that we should. So I lived, Rudolph. God bless you, he said. Yes, I lived through it all. He pressed her hand, knowing what that phrase meant and must mean for her. Will it last forever? she asked, suddenly gripping his hand tightly. But a moment later she went on, No, no, I mustn't make you unhappy, Rudolph. I'm half glad I wrote the letter, and half glad they stole it. It's so sweet to have you fighting for me, for me only this time, Rudolph, not for the King, for me. Sweet indeed, my dearest lady, don't be afraid, we shall win. You will win, yes, and then you'll go. And dropping his hand, she covered her face with hers. I mustn't kiss your face, said he, but your hands I may kiss, and he kissed her hands as they were pressed against her face. You wear my ring, she murmured through her fingers. Always? Why, yes, he said, with a little laugh of wonder at her question. And there is no one else? My Queen, said he, laughing again. No, I knew really, Rudolph, I knew really. And now her hands flew out towards him, imploring his pardon. Then she began to speak quickly. Rudolph, last night I had a dream about you, a strange dream. I seemed to be in Strelso, and all the people were talking about the King. It was you they meant, you were the King. At last you were the King, and I was your Queen. But I could see you only very dimly, you were somewhere, but I could not make out where, just sometimes your face came. Then I tried to tell you that you were the King. Yes, and Colonel Zappton Fritz tried to tell you. The people too called out that you were King. What did it mean? But your face, when I saw it, was unmoved and very pale, and you seemed not to hear what we said, not even what I said. It almost seemed as if you were dead, and yet King. Ah, you mustn't die, even to be King. And she laid a hand on his shoulder. Sweetheart, said he gently, in dreams, desires, and fears blend in strange visions, so I seemed to you to be both a King and a dead man. But I am not a King, and I am a very healthy fellow. Yet a thousand thanks to my dearest Queen for dreaming of me. No, but what could it mean? she asked again. What does it mean when I dream always of you, except that I always love you? Was it only that? she said, still unconvinced. What more past between them I do not know. I think that the Queen told my wife more, but women will sometimes keep women's secrets, even from their husbands, though they love us. Yet we are always in some sort the common enemy, against whom they join hands. Well, I would not look too far into such secrets, for to know must be, I suppose, to blame. And who is himself so blameless that in such a case he would be free with his censures? Yet much cannot have passed, for almost close on their talk about the dream came Colonel Zapp, saying that the guards were in line, and all the women streamed out to watch them, while the men followed, lest the gay uniforms should make them forgotten. Certainly a quiet fell over the old castle, that only the constables curt tones broke, as he bad Rudolph come by the back way to the stables, and mount his horse. There's no time to lose, said Zapp, and his eyes seemed to grudge the Queen even one more word with the man she loved. But Rudolph was not to be hurried into leaving her in such a fashion. He clapped the constable on the shoulder, laughing, and bidding him think of what he would for a moment. Then he went again to the Queen, and would have knelt before her, but that she would not suffer, and they stood with hands locked. Then suddenly she drew him to her, and kissed his forehead, saying, God, go with you, Rudolph, my knight! Thus she turned away, letting him go. He walked towards the door, but a sound arrested his steps, and he waited in the middle of the room, his eyes on the door. Old Zapp flew to the threshold, his sword halfway out of its sheath. There was a step coming down the passage, and the feet stopped outside the door. Is it the King? whispered Rudolph. I don't know, said Zapp. No, it's not the King. Came in, unhesitating certainty from Queen Flavia. They waited. A low knock sounded on the door. Still, for a moment they waited, the knock was repeated urgently. We must open, said Zapp. Behind the curtain with you, Rudolph. The Queen sat down, and Zapp piled a heap of papers before her, that it might seem as though he and she transacted business. That his precautions were interrupted by a horse, eager, low cry from outside. Quick, in God's name, quick! They knew the voice was Bernan Steins. The Queen sprang up. Rudolph came out, Zapp turned the key. The lieutenant entered, hurried, breathless pale. Well, asked Zapp. He has got away, cried Rudolph, guessing in a moment the misfortune that had brought Bernan Stein back. Yes, he's got away. Just as we left the town and reached the open road towards Tarlinheim, he said, Are we going to walk all the way? I was not loath to go quicker, and we broke into a trot. But, ah, what a pestilent fool I am! Never mind that, go on. Why, I was thinking of him and my task, and having a bullet ready for him, and of everything except your horse, guessed Zapp with a grim smile. Yes, and the horse pecked and stumbled, and I fell forward on his neck. I put out my arm to recover myself, and I jerked my revolver onto the ground. And he saw. He saw, curse him, for a second he waited. Then he smiled and turned, and dug his spurs in, and was off straight across country towards Straussau. Well, I was off my horse in a moment, and I fired three times after him. You hit? asked Rudolph. I think so. He shifted the range from one hand to the other, and wrung his arm. I mounted and made after him, but his horse was better than mine, and he gained ground. We began to meet people, too, and I didn't dare to fire again, so I left him and rode here to tell you. Never employ me again, Constable, so long as you live. And the young man's face was twisted with misery and shame, as forgetting the Queen's presence, he sank despondently into a chair. Zapp took no notice of his self-reproaches, but Rudolph went and laid a hand on his shoulder. It was an accident, he said. No blame to you. The Queen rose and walked towards him. Bernstein sprang to his feet. Sir, said she, it is not success, but effort that should gain thanks, and she held out her hand. Well, he was young. I do not laugh at the sob that escaped his lips as he turned his head. Let me try something else, he implored. Mr. Rassendill, said the Queen, you will do my pleasure by employing this gentleman in my further service. I am already deep in his debt, and would be deeper. There was a moment's silence. Well, but what's to be done? asked Colonel Zapp. He's gone to Strelzow. He'll stop Rupert, used Mr. Rassendill. He may, or he may not. It's odd that he will. We must provide for both. Zapp and Rudolf looked at one another. You must be here, asked Rudolf of the Constable. Well, I'll go to Strelzow. His smile broke out. That is, if Bernstein will lend me a hat. The Queen made no sound, but she came and laid her hand on his arm. He looked at her, smiling still. Yes, I'll go to Strelzow, said he, and I'll find Rupert, I, and Rischenheim, too, if they're in the city. Take me with you, cried Bernstein, eagerly. Rudolf glanced at Zapp. The Constable shook his head. Bernstein's face fell. It's not that, boy, said old Zapp, half in kindness, half in impatience. We want you here. Suppose Rupert comes here with Rischenheim. The idea was new, but the event was by no means unlikely. But you'll be here, Constable, urged Bernstein, and Fritz von Tallenheim will arrive in an hour. Ah, young man, said Zapp, nodding his head. But when I fight Rupert of Hentzow, I like to have a man to spare. And he grinned broadly, being no wit afraid of what Bernstein might think of his courage. Now, go and get him a hat, he added. And the lieutenant ran off on the errand. But the Queen cried, Are you sending Rudolf alone, then, alone against two? Yes, madam, if I may command the campaign, said Zapp, I take it he should be equal to the task. He could not know the feelings of the Queen's heart. She dashed her hand across her eyes, and turned in mutant treaty to Rudolf Rassendil. I must go, he said softly. We can't spare Bernstein, and I mustn't stay here. She said no more. Rudolf walked across to Zapp. Take me to the stables. Is the horse good? I daren't take the train. Ah, here's the lieutenant and the hat. The horse will get you there to-night, said Zapp. Come along, Bernstein, stay with the Queen. At the threshold Rudolf paused, and, turning his head, glanced once at Queen Flavia, who stood still as a statue, watching him go. Then he followed the constable, who brought him where the horse was. The Zapp's devices, for securing freedom from observation, had served well, and Rudolf mounted, unmolested. The hat doesn't fit very well, said Rudolf. Like a crown better, eh? suggested the Colonel. Rudolf laughed, as he asked. Well, what are my orders? Ride round by the moat to the road at the back, then through the forest, to Hofbauer. You know your way after that. You mustn't reach Straussau till it's dark. Then, if you want a shelter, to Fritz von Talenheim's, yes. From there I shall go straight to the address. Aye, and Rudolf, yes, make an end of him this time. Please, God, but if he goes to the lodge, he will, unless Rischenheim stops him. I'll be there in case, but I think Rischenheim will stop him. If he comes here, Young Bernandstein will die before he suffers him to reach the King. Zapp, aye, be kind to her. Bless the man, yes. Good-bye. And good luck. At a swift canter, Rudolf darted round the drive that led from the stables, by the moat to the old forest road behind. Five minutes brought him within the shelter of the trees, and he rode on confidently, meeting nobody, save here and there or Yoko, who, seeing a man ride hard with his head averted, took no more notice of him than to wish that he himself could ride abroad instead of being bound to work. Thus Rudolf Rassendil set out again for the walls of Straussau through the forest of Zender, and ahead of him, with an hour's start, galloped the count of Lutzauer Rischenheim, again a man, and a man with resolution, resentment, and revenge in his heart. The game was afoot now. Who could tell the issue of it? I received the telegram sent to me by the Constable of Zender, at my own house in Straussau, about one o'clock. It's needless to say that I made immediate preparations to obey his summons. My wife indeed protested, and I must admit, with some show of reason, that I was unfit to endure further fatigues, and that my bed was the only proper place for me. I could not listen, and James, Mr. Rassendil's servant, being informed of the summons, was at my elbow, with a card of the trains from Straussau to Zender, without waiting for any order from me. I had talked to this man in the course of our journey, and discovered that he had been in the service of Lord Toppen, formerly British Ambassador to the Court of Ruritania. How far he was acquainted with the secrets of his present master, I did not know, but his familiarity with the city and the country made him of great use to me. We discovered, to our annoyance, that no train left till four o'clock, and then only a slow one. The result was that we could not arrive at the castle till past six o'clock. This hour was not absolutely too late, but I was of course eager to be on the scene of action as early as possible. You'd better see if you can get a special, my Lord. James suggested. I'll run on to the station and arrange about it. I agreed. Since I was known to be so often employed in the King's service, I could take a special train without exciting remark. James set out, and about a quarter of an hour later I got into my carriage to drive to the station. Just as the horses were about to start, however, the butler approached me. I beg your pardon, my Lord, said he, but Bauer didn't return with your Lordship. Is he coming back? No, said I. Bauer was grossly impertinent on the journey, and I dismissed him. Those foreign men are never to be trusted, my Lord, and your Lordship's bag? What? Hasn't it come? I cried. I told him to send it. It's not arrived, my Lord. Can the rogue have stolen it? I asked indignantly. If your Lordship wishes, I will mention the matter to the police. I appeared to consider this proposal. Wait till I come back. I ended by saying, The bag may come, and I have no reason to doubt the fellow's honesty. This, I thought, would be the end of my connection with Master Bauer. He had served Rupert's turn, and would now disappear from the scene. Indeed, it may be that Rupert would have liked to have dispensed with further aid from him, but he had few whom he could trust, and was compelled to employ those few more than once. At any rate, he had not done with Bauer, and I very soon received proof of the fact. My house is a couple of miles from the station, and we have to pass through a considerable part of the old town, where the streets are narrow and tortuous, and progress is necessarily slow. We had just entered the Königsschrath, and it must be remembered that I had, at that time, no reason for attaching any special significance to this locality, and were waiting impatiently for a heavy drae to move out of our path, when my coachman, who had overheard the butler's conversation with me, lent down from his box with an air of lively excitement. My lord, he cried, there's Bauer, there, passing the butcher's shop. I sprang up in the carriage, the man's back was towards me, and he was threading his way through the people with a quick, stealthy tread. I believe he must have seen me, and was slinking away as fast as he could. I was not sure of him, but the coachman banished my doubt by saying, it's Bauer, it's certainly Bauer, my lord. I hardly stayed to form a resolution. If I could catch this fellow, or even see where he went, a most important clue as to Rupert's doings and whereabouts might be put into my hand. I leapt out of the carriage, bidding the man wait, and at once started in pursuit of my former servant. I heard the coachman laugh, he thought, no doubt that anxiety for the missing bag inspired such eager haste. The numbers of the houses in the Königstrasse begin, as anybody familiar with Drellshire will remember, at the end adjoining the station. The street being a long one, intersecting almost the entire length of the old town, I was, when I set out after Bauer, opposite number three hundred or thereabouts, and distant nearly three-quarters of a mile from that important number, nineteen, towards which Bauer was hurrying like a rabbit to its burrow. I knew nothing and thought nothing of where he was going. To me, nineteen was no more than eighteen or twenty. My only desire was to overtake him. I had no clear idea of what I meant to do when I caught him, but I had some hazy notion of intimidating him into giving up his secret by the threat of an accusation of theft. In fact, he had stolen my bag. After him I went, and he knew that I was after him. I saw him turn his face over his shoulder, and then bustle on faster. Neither of us, pursued or pursued, dared quite to run, as it was our eager strides and our carelessness of collisions created more than enough attention, but I had one advantage. Most folk in Strelzow knew me, and many got out of my way, who were by no means inclined to pay a like civility to Bauer. Thus I began to gain on him in spite of his haste. I had started fifty yards behind, but as we neared the end of the street, and saw the station ahead of us, not more than twenty separated me from him. Then an annoying thing happened. I ran full into a stout old gentleman. Bauer had run into him before, and he was standing, as people will, staring in resentful astonishment at his first assailant's retreating figure. The second collision immensely increased his vexation. For me it had yet worse consequences, for when I disentangled myself, Bauer was gone. There was not a sign of him. I looked up, the number of the house above me was twenty-three, but the door was shut. I walked on a few paces, past twenty-two, past twenty-one, and up to nineteen. Nineteen was an old house, with a dirty, dilapidated front, and an air almost dissipated. It was a shop where provisions of the cheaper sort were on view in the window, things that one has never eaten, but has heard of people eating. The shop door stood open, but there was nothing to connect Bauer with the house. Mattering an oath in my exasperation, I was about to pass on, when an old woman put her head out of the door, and looked round. I was full in front of her. I am sure that the old woman started slightly, and I think that I did, for I knew her, and she knew me. She was old mother Holf, one of whose sons, Johann, had betrayed to us the secret of the dungeon of Zender, while the other had died by Mr. Rassendill's hand, by the side of the great pipe that masked the king's window. Her presence might mean nothing, yet it seemed at once to connect the house with the secret of the past and the crisis of the present. She recovered herself in the moment, and curtsied to me. Ah, Mother Holf, said I! How long is it since you set up shop in Strelso? About six months, my lord, she answered, with the composed air and arms of Kimbo. I have not come across you before, said I, looking keenly at her. Such a poor little shop as mine would not be likely to secure your lordship's patronage, she answered, in a humility that seemed only half genuine. I looked up at the windows. They were all closed, and had their wooden lattices shut. The house was devoid of any signs of life. You have a good house here, Mother, though it needs a splash of paint, said I. Do you live all alone in it with your daughter? For Max was dead, and Johann abroad, and the old woman had, as far as I knew, no other children. And sometimes, sometimes not, said she, I let lodgings to single men when I can. Full now? Not a soul worse like my lord. Then I shot an arrow at a venture. And a man who came in just now, then, was he only a customer? Ah, I wish a customer had come in, but there's been nobody, she replied in surprised tones. I looked her full in her eyes. She met mine with a blinking imperturbability. There is no face so inscrutable as a clever old woman's when she's on her guard, and her fat body barred the entrance. I could not so much as see inside, while the window choked full with pigs, totters, and such like dainties helped me very little. If the fox were there, he had got to earth, and I could not dig him out. At this moment I saw James approaching hurriedly. He was looking up the street, no doubt seeking my carriage, and chafing at its delay. An instant later he saw me. My lord, he said, your train will be ready in five minutes. If it doesn't start then, the line must be closed for another half hour. I perceived a faint smile on the old woman's face. I was sure then that I was on the track of Bauer, and probably of more than Bauer. But my first duty was to obey orders and get to Zender. Besides, I could not force my way in. There, in open daylight, without a scandal that would have set all the long years in Strauss our prick. I turned away reluctantly. I did not even know for certain that Bauer was within, and thus had no information of value to carry with me. If your lordship would kindly recommend me, said the old hag, Yes, I'll recommend you, said I. I'll recommend you to be careful whom you take for lodgers. There are queer fish about, mother. I take the money beforehand, she retorted, with the grin, and I was as sure that she was in the plot as of my own existence. There was nothing to be done. James's face urged me towards the station. I turned away. But at this instant a loud merry laugh sounded from inside the house. I started, and this time violently. The old woman's brow contracted in a frown, and her lips twitched for a moment. Then her face regained its composure. But I knew the laugh, and she must have guessed that I knew it. Instantly I tried to appear as though I'd noticed nothing. I nodded to her carelessly, and bidding James to follow me set out for the station. But as we reached the platform, I laid my hand on his shoulder, saying, The count of Hentzau is in that house, James. He looked at me without surprise. He was as hard to stir to wonder as old Zapped himself. Indeed, sir, shall I stay and watch? No, come with me, I answered. To tell the truth, I thought that to leave him alone in Streltsow to watch that house was in all likelihood to sign his death warrant, and I shrank from imposing the duty on him. Rudolph might send him if he would. I dared not. So we got into our train, and I suppose that my coachman, when he had looked long enough for me, went home. I forgot to ask him afterwards. Very likely he thought it a fine joke to see his master hunting a truant servant and a truant bag through the streets in broad daylight. Had he known the truth, he would have been as interested, though maybe less amused. I arrived at the town of Zender at half-past three, and was in the castle before four. I may pass over the most kind and gracious words with which the queen received me. Every sight of her face and every sound of her voice bound a man closer to her service, and now she made me feel that I was a poor fellow to have lost her letter and yet to be alive. But she would hear nothing of such talk, choosing rather to praise the little I had done, than to blame the great thing in which I had failed. Dismissed from her presence, I flew open-mouthed as apt. I found him in his room with Bernadstein, and had the satisfaction of learning that my news of Rupert's whereabouts was confirmed by his information. I was also made acquainted with all that had been done, even as I have already related it, from the first successful trick played on Rischenheim to the moment of his unfortunate escape. But my face grew long and apprehensive, when I heard that Rudolf Rassendil had gone alone to Strelso to put his head in that lion's mouth in the Koenigstrasse. There will be three of them there. Rupert, Rischenheim, and my rascal Bauer, said I. As to Rupert, we don't know, Zapp reminded me. He'll be there if Rischenheim arrives in time to tell him the truth. But we have also to be ready for him here, and at the hunting lodge. Well, we're ready for him wherever he is. Rudolf will be in Strelso. You and I will ride to the lodge, and Bernadstein will be here with the Queen. Only one here, I asked. I, but a good one, said the Constable, clapping Bernadstein on the shoulder. We shan't be gone about four hours, and those while the King is safe in his bed, Bernadstein has only to refuse access to him, and stand to that with his life till we come back. You're equal to that, eh, Lieutenant? I am, by nature, a cautious man, and prone to look on the dark side of every prospect, and the risks of every enterprise. But I could not see what better dispositions were possible against the attack that threatened us. Yet I was sorely uneasy concerning Mr. Asendill. Now, after all our stir and runnings to and fro, game an hour or two of peace. We employed the time in having a good meal, and it was past five, when, hour past finished, we sat back in our chairs enjoying cigars. James had waited on us, quietly usurping the office of the Constable's own servant, and thus we were able to talk freely. The man's calm confidence in his master, and his master's fortune, also went far to comfort me. The King should be back soon, said Zapp, at last, with a glance at his big old-fashioned silver watch. Thank God! You'll be too tired to sit up long. We shall be free by nine o'clock for its. I wish young Rupert would come to the lodge. And the Colonel's face expressed a lively pleasure at the idea. Six o'clock struck, and the King did not appear. A few moments later a message came from the Queen, requesting our presence on the terrace in front of the chateau. The place commanded a view of the road by which the King would ride back, and we found the Queen walking restlessly up and down, considerably disquieted by the lateness of his return. In such a position as ours, every unusual or unforeseen incident magnifies its possible meaning, and invests itself with a sinister importance, which would at ordinary times seem absurd. We three shared the Queen's feelings, and forgetting the many chances of the chase, any one of which would amply account for the King's delay, fell to speculating on remote possibilities of disaster. He might have met Rischenheim, although they had ridden in opposite directions. Rupert might have intercepted him. Though no means could have brought Rupert to the forest so early, our fears defeated common sense, and our conjectures outran possibility. Zapt was the first to recover from this foolish mood, and he rated us soundly, not sparing even the Queen herself. With a laugh we regained some of our equanimity, and felt rather ashamed of our weakness. Still, it's strange that he doesn't come, murmured the Queen, shading her eyes with her hand, and looking along the road to where the dark masses of the forest trees bounded our view. It was already dusk, but not so dark that we could have seen the King's party as soon as it came into the open. If the King's delay seemed strange at six, it was stranger at seven, and by eight most strange. We had long since ceased to talk lightly. By now we had lapsed into silence. Zapt's goldings had died away. The Queen, wrapped in her furs, for it was very cold, sat sometimes on a seat, but oftener paced restlessly to and fro. Evening had fallen, we did not know what to do, nor even whether we ought to do anything. Zapt would not own to sharing our worst apprehensions, but his gloomy silence in face of our surmises witnessed that he was in his heart as disturbed as we were. For my part I had come to the end of my endurance, and I cried, For God's sake, let's act! Shall I go and seek him? A needle in a bundle of hay, said Zapt with the shrug. But at this instant my ear caught the sound of horses cantering on the road from the forest, and at the same moment Bernstein cried, Here they come! The Queen paused, and we gathered round her. The horsehooves came nearer. Now we made out the figures of three men. They were the King's huntsmen, and they rode along merrily, singing a hunting chorus. The sound of it brought relief to us. So far there was at least no disaster, but why was not the King with them? The King is probably tired and is following more slowly, madam, suggested Bernstein. This explanation seemed very probable, and the Lieutenant and I, as ready to be hopeful on slight grounds as fearful on small provocation, joyfully accepted it. Zapt less easily turned to either mood, said, Aye, but let us hear, and raising his voice called to the huntsmen, who had now arrived in the avenue. One of them, the King's chief huntsman, Simon, gorgeous in his uniform of green and gold, came swaggering along, and bowed low to the Queen. Well, Simon, where is the King, she asked, trying to smile. The King, madam, has sent a message by me to your majesty. Pray deliver it to me, Simon. I will, madam. The King has enjoyed fine sport, and indeed, madam, if I may say so for myself, a better run. You may say, friend Simon, interrupted the Constable, tapping him on the shoulder. Anything you like for yourself, but as a matter of etiquette, the King's message should come first. Oh, Aye, Constable, said Simon, you're always so down on a man, aren't you? Well then, madam, the King has enjoyed fine sport, for we started a bore at eleven, and is this the King's message, Simon? asked the Queen, smiling in genuine amusement, but impatiently. Why, no, madam, not precisely his majesty's message. Then get to it, man, in heaven's name, growled Zapt, testily. For here were we four, the Queen too, one of us, on tenterhooks, while the fool boasted about the sport that he had shown the King. For every bore in the forest, Simon took as much credit as though he, and not Almighty God, had made the animal. It is the way with such fellows. Simon became a little confused, under the combined influence of his own seductive memories, and Zapt's Bruce Cakes Hortations. As I was saying, madam, he resumed, the bore led us a long way, but at last the hounds pulled him down, and his majesty gave him the coup de grâce. Well, then it was very late. It's no earlier now, grumbled the Constable. And the King, madam, although indeed, madam, his majesty was so gracious to say that no huntsman whom his majesty had ever had, had given his majesty. God help us! groaned the Constable. Simon shot an apprehensive, apologetic glance at Colonel Zapt. The Constable was frowning ferociously. In spite of the serious matters in hand, I could not forbear a smile, while young Bernstein broke into an audible laugh which he tried to smother with his hand. Yes, the King was very tired, Simon, said the Queen, at once encouraging him and bringing him back to the point with a woman's skill. Yes, madam, the King was very tired, and as we chanced to kill near the hunting lodge— I do not know whether Simon noticed any change in the manner of his audience, but the Queen looked up with parted lips, and I believe we all three drew a step nearer to him. Zapt did not interrupt this time. Yes, madam, the King was very tired, and as we chanced to kill near the hunting lodge, the King baddest carry our quarry there, and come back to dress it to-morrow. So we obeyed, and here we are. That is, except Herbert, my brother, who stayed with the King by his majesty's orders. Because, madam, Herbert is a handy fellow, and my good mother taught him to cook a steak and— Stayed where with the King? roared Zapt. Why, at the hunting lodge, Constable, the King stays there to-night, and will ride back to-morrow morning with Herbert. That, madam, is the King's message. We had come to it at last, and it was something to come to. Simon gazed from face to face. I saw him, and I understood at once that our feelings must be speaking too plainly. So I took on myself to dismiss him, saying, Thanks, Simon. Thanks. We understand. He bowed to the Queen. She roused herself, and added her thanks to mine. Simon withdrew, looking still a little puzzled. After we were left alone, there was a moment's silence. Then I said, Suppose Rupert, the Constable of Zender, broke in with a short laugh. On my life, said he, How things fall out! We say he will go to the hunting lodge! And he goes! If Rupert goes, if Rischenheim doesn't stop him, I urged again. The Queen rose from her seat, and stretched out her hands towards us. Gentlemen, my letter, said she. Zapped wasted no time. Men and stein, said he, You stay here as we arranged. Nothing is altered. Horses for fritz and myself in five minutes. Bern and stein turned, and shot like an arrow along the terrace towards the stables. Nothing is altered, madame, said Zapped, except that we must be there before Count Rupert. I looked at my watch. It was twenty minutes past nine. Simon's cursed chatter had lost a quarter of an hour. I opened my lips to speak. A glance from Zapp's eyes told me that he had discerned what I was about to say. I was silent. You'll be in time! asked the Queen, with clasped hands and frightened eyes. Assuredly, madame, returned Zapped with a vow. You won't let him breach the King? My no, madame, said Zapped with a smile. From my heart, gentlemen, she said, in a trembling voice, from my heart. Here are the horses, cried Zapped. He snatched her hand, brushed it with his grizzly moustache. And, well, I'm not sure I heard, and I can hardly believe what I think I heard, but I will set it down for what it's worth. I think, he said, bless your sweet face. We'll do it. At any rate, she drew back with a little cry of surprise, and I saw the tears standing in her eyes. I kissed her hand also. Then we mounted, and we started, and we rode as if the devil were behind us for the hunting lodge. But I turned once to see her standing on the terrace, with young Bernstein's tall figure beside her. Can we be in time? said I. It was what I had meant to say before. I think not, but by God we'll try, said Colonel Zapped. And I knew why he had not let me speak. Suddenly there was a sound behind us of a horse at the gallop. Our heads flew round in the ready apprehension of men on a perilous errand. The hooves drew near for the unknown road with reckless haste. We'd better see what it is, said the Constable, pulling up. A second bore, and the horseman was beside us. Zapped swore an oath, half in amusement, half in vexation. Why, it's you, James, I cried. Yes, sir, answered Rudolf Rassendill's servant. What the devil do you want? asked Zapped. I came to attend on the Count von Tallenheim, sir. I did not give you any orders, James. No, sir, but Mr. Rassendill told me not to leave you unless you sent me away. So I made haste to follow you. Then Zapped cried. Just take it, what horse is that? The best in the stable, so far as I could see, sir, I was afraid of not overtaking you. Zapped tugged at his moustaches, scowled, but finally laughed. Much obliged for your compliment, said he. A horse is mine. Indeed, sir, said James, with respectful interest. For a moment we were all silent. Then Zapped laughed again. Forward, said he, and the three of us dashed into the forest. Autofolunteer, please go to Librivox.org Recording by Andy Minter Rupert of Hentzer Taken from the Memoirs of Fritz von Tallenheim By Anthony Hope Chapter 8 The Temper of Boris the Hound Looking back now, in the light of the information I have gathered, I am able to trace very clearly, and almost hour by hour, the events of this day, and to understand how chance, laying hold of our cunning plan and mocking our wiliness, twisted and turned our device to a predetermined but undreamt of issue, of which we were most guiltless in thought or intent. Had the King not gone to the hunting lodge, our design would have found the fulfilment we looked for. Had Rischenheim succeeded in warning Rupert of Hentzer, we should have stood where we were. Fate or fortune would have it otherwise. The King, being weary, went to the lodge, and Rischenheim failed in warning his cousin. It was a narrow failure, for Rupert, as his laugh told me, was in the house in the Koenigstrasse when I set out from Strelzau. And Rischenheim arrived there at half-past four. He had taken the train at a roadside station, and thus easily outstripped Mr. Asendill, who, not daring to show his face, was forced to ride all the way and enter the city under cover of night. But Rischenheim had not dared to send a warning, for he knew that we were in possession of the address, and did not know what steps we might have taken to intercept messages. Therefore he was obliged to carry the news himself. When he came his man was gone. Indeed Rupert must have left the house almost immediately after I was safe away from the city. He was determined to be in good time for his appointment. His only enemies were not in Strelzau. There was no warrant on which he could be apprehended, and although his connection with Black Michael was a matter of popular gossip, he felt himself safe from arrest by virtue of the secret that protected him. Accordingly he walked out of the house, went to the station, took his ticket to Hofbau, and travelling by the four o'clock train reached his destination at about half past five. He must have passed the train in which Rischenheim travelled. The first news the latter had of his departure was from a porter at the station, who, having recognised the count of Hentzau, ventured to congratulate Rischenheim on his cousin's return. Rischenheim made no answer, but hurried in great agitation to the house in the Königstrasse, where the old woman Hof confirmed the tidings. Then he passed through a period of great irresolution. Loyalty to Rupert urged that he should follow him and share the perils into which his cousin was hastening, but caution whispered that he was not irrevocably committed, that nothing overt yet connected him with Rupert's schemes, and that we who knew the truth should be well content to purchase his silence as to the trick we had played by granting him immunity. His fears won the day, and like the irresolute man he was, he determined to wait in Stralsau till he heard the issue of the meeting at the lodge. If Rupert were disposed of there, he had something to offer us in return for peace. If his cousin escaped, he would be in the Königstrasse, prepared to second the further plans of the desperate adventurer. In any event his skin was safe, and I presumed to think that this weighed a little with him. For excuse he had the wound which Bernstein had given him, and which rendered his right arm entirely useless. Had he gone then, he would have been the most inefficient ally. Of all this, we, as we rode through the forest, knew nothing. We might guess, conjecture, hope, or fear, but our certain knowledge stopped with Rischenheim's start for the capital, and Rupert's presence there at three o'clock. The pair might have met, or might have missed. We had to act as though they had missed, and Rupert had gone to meet the king. But we were late. The consciousness of that pressed upon us, and although we evaded further mention of it, it made us spur and drive our horses as quickly, ah, in a little more quickly, than safety allowed. Once James's horse stumbled in the darkness, and its rider was thrown. More than once a low bow hanging over the path nearly swept me, dead, or stunned from my seat. Zapt paid no attention to these mishaps, or threatened mishaps. He had taken the lead, and, sitting well down in his saddle, rode ahead, turning neither to right nor left, never slackening his pace, sparing neither himself nor his beast. James and I were side by side behind him. We rode in silence, finding nothing to say to one another. My mind was full of a picture, the picture of Rupert with his easy smile handing to the king the queen's letter. For the hour of the rendezvous was past. If that image had been translated into reality, what must we do? To kill Rupert would satisfy revenge. But of what other avail would it be, when the king had read the letter? I am ashamed to say that I found myself girding at Mr. Rassendill for happening on a plan which the course of events had turned into a trap for ourselves and not for Rupert of Hentsau. Suddenly Zapt, turning his head for the first time, pointed in front of him. The lodge was before us. We saw it looming dimly a quarter of a mile off. Zapt reigned in his horse, and we followed his example. All dismounted. We tied our horses to trees, and went forward at a quick, silent walk. Our idea was that Zapt should enter on pretext of having been sent by the queen to attend to her husband's comfort, and arrange for his return without further fatigue next day. If Rupert had come and gone, the king's demeanour would probably betray the fact, if he had not yet come, I and James patrolling outside would bar his passage. There was a third possibility. He might be even now with the king. Our course in such a case we left unsettled. So far as I had any plan it was to kill Rupert and to convince the king that the letter was a forgery, a desperate hope, so desperate that we turned our eyes away from the possibility which would make it our only resource. We were now very near the hunting lodge, being about forty yards from the front of it. All at once Zapt threw himself on his stomach on the ground. Give me a match," he whispered. James struck a light, and the night being still, the flame burned brightly. It showed us the mark of a horse's hoof, apparently quite fresh, and leading away from the lodge. We rose and went on, following the tracks by the aid of more matches, till we reached a tree twenty yards from the door. Here the hoof mark ceased, but beyond there was a double track of human feet in the soft black earth. A man had gone thence to the house and returned from the house thither. On the right of the tree were more hoof marks leading up to it and then ceasing. A man had ridden up from the right, dismounted, gone on foot to the house, returned to the tree, remounted, and ridden away along the track by which we had approached. It may be somebody else, said I, but I do not think that we any of us doubted in our hearts that the tracks were made by the coming of Hentza. Then the king had the letter. The mischief was done. We were too late. Yet we did not hesitate. Since disaster had come, it must be faced. Mr. Rassendale's servant and I followed the constable of Zender up to the door, or within a few feet of it. Here, Zapt, who was in uniform, loosened his sword in its sheath. James and I looked to our revolvers. There were no lights visible in the lodge. The door was shut. Everything was still. Zapt knocked softly with his knuckles. But there was no answer from within. He laid hold of the handle and turned it. The door opened, and the passage lay dark and apparently empty before us. You stay here as we arranged, whispered the colonel. Give me the matches, and I'll go in. James handed him the box of matches, and he crossed the threshold. For a yard or two we saw him plainly. Then his figure grew dim and indistinct. I heard nothing except my own hard breathing. But in a moment there was another sound, a muffled exclamation, and the noise of a man stumbling, a sword, too, clattered on the stones of the passage. We looked at one another. The noise did not produce any answering stir in the house. Then came the sharp little explosion of a match, struck on its box. Next we heard Zapt raising himself, his scabbard scraping along the stones. His footsteps came towards us, and in a second he appeared at the door. What was it? I whispered. I fell, said Zapt. Over what? Come and see. James, stay here. I followed the constable for the distance of eight or ten feet along the passage. Isn't there a lamp anywhere? I asked. We can see enough with the match. He answered. Here. This is what I fell over. Even before the match was struck, I saw a dark body lying across the passage. A dead man, I guessed instantly. Why now? said Zapt, striking a light. A dead dog, fritz. An exclamation of wonder escaped me as I fell on my knees. At the same instant, Zapt muttered, Aye, there's a lamp. And stretching up his hand to a little oil lamp that stood on a bracket, he lit it, took it down, and held it over the body. It served to give a fair, though unsteady light, and enabled us to see what lay in the passage. It's Boris, the boar-hound, said I, still in a whisper, although there was no sign of any listeners. I knew the dog well, he was the king's favourite, and always accompanied him when he went hunting. He was obedient to every word of the kings, but of a rather uncertain temper towards the rest of the world. However, they mortuous, nil nissy bonum, there he lay, dead in the passage. Zapt put his hand on the beast's head, and there was a bullet-hole right through his forehead. I nodded, and in my turn pointed to the dog's right shoulder, which was shattered by another ball. And see here, said the constable, have a pull at this. I looked where his hand now was. In the dog's mouth was a piece of grey cloth, and on the piece of grey cloth was a horned coat-button. I took hold of the cloth and pulled. Boris held on even in death. Zapt drew his sword, and inserting the point of it between the dog's teeth parted them enough for me to draw out the piece of cloth. You had better put it in your pocket, said the constable. Now, come along, and holding the lamp in one hand, and his sword, which he did not re-sheath in the other, he stepped over the body of the war-hound, and I followed him. We were now in front of the door of the room where Rudolf Rassendil had supped with us on the day of his first coming to Ruritania, and whence he had set out to be crowned in Strelzau. On the right of it was the room where the king slept, and further along in the same direction, the kitchen and the cellars. The officer or officers in attendance on the king used to sleep on the other side of the dining-room. We must explore, I suppose, said Zapt. In spite of his outward calmness, I caught in his voice the ring of excitement rising and ill-repressed. But at this moment we heard from the passage on our left, as we faced the door, a low moan, and then a dragging sound as if a man were crawling along the floor, painfully trailing his limbs after him. Zapt held the lamp in that direction, and we saw Herbert, the forester, pale-faced and wide-eyed, raised from the ground on his two hands, while his legs stretched behind him, and his stomach rested on the flags. Who is it? he said in a faint voice. Why, man, you know me, said the constable, stepping up to him. What's happened here? The poor fellow was very faint, and I think wandered a little in his brain. I've got it, sir, he murmured. I've got it fair and straight. No more hunting for me, sir. I've got it here in the stomach. Oh, my God! he let his head fall with a thud on the floor. I ran and raised him, kneeling on one knee I propped his head against my leg. Tell us about it, commanded Zapt, in a curt, crisp voice, while I got the man into the easiest position that I could contrive. In slow, struggling tones, he began his story, repeating here, omitting there, often confusing the order of his narrative, often still arresting it while he waited for fresh strength. Yet we were not impatient and heard without a thought of time. I looked round once at the sound, and found that James, anxious about us, had stolen along the passage and joined us. Zapt took no notice of him, nor of anything save the words that dropped in irregular utterance from the stricken man's lips. Here is the story, a strange instance of the turning of a great event on a small cause. The king had eaten a little supper, and having gone to his bedroom, had stretched himself on the bed, and fallen asleep without undressing. Herbert was clearing the dining table, and performing similar duties, when suddenly, thus he told it, he found a man standing beside him. He did not know, he was new to the king's service, who the unexpected visitor was, but he was of middle height, dark, handsome, and looked a gentleman all over. He was dressed in a shooting tunic, and a revolver was thrust through the belt of it. One hand rested on the belt, while the other held a small square box. Tell the king I am here. He expects me, said the stranger. Herbert alarmed at the suddenness and silence of the stranger's approach, and guiltily conscious of having left the door unbolted, drew back. He was unarmed, but being a stout fellow, was prepared to defend his master as best he could. Rupert, beyond doubt it was Rupert, laughed lightly, saying, Man, he expects me, go and tell him! and sat himself on the table, swinging his leg. Herbert, influenced by the visitor's air of command, began to retreat towards the bedroom, keeping his face towards Rupert. If the king asks more, tell him I have the packet and the letter, said Rupert. The man bowed, and passed into the bedroom. The king was asleep. When roused, he seemed to know nothing of letter or packet, and to expect no visitor. Herbert's ready fears revived. He whispered that the stranger carried the revolver. Whatever the king's faults might be, and God forbid that I should speak hardly of him whom fate used so hardly. He was no coward. He sprang from his bed. At the same moment the great boarhound uncoiled himself, and came from beneath, yawning and forning. But in an instant the beast caught the scent of a stranger. His ears pricked, and he gave a low growl as he looked up in his master's face. Then Rupert of Hentzer, weary perhaps of waiting, perhaps only doubtful whether his message would be proper delivered, appeared in the doorway. The king was unarmed, and Herbert in no better blight. Their hunting weapons were in the adjoining room, and Rupert seemed to bar the way. I have said that the king was no coward, yet I think that the sight of Rupert, bringing back the memory of his torments in that dungeon, half-cowed him. For he shrank back, crying, You! The hound in subtle understanding of his master's movement growled angrily. You expected me, sir, said Rupert, with a bow. But he smiled. I know that the sight of the king's alarm pleased him. To inspire terror was his delight, and it does not come to every man to strike fear into the heart of a king and an Elfberg. It had come more than once to Rupert of Hentzer. No! buttered the king. Then, recovering his composure a little, he said angrily, How dare you come here! You didn't expect me, cried Rupert, and in an instant the thought of a trap seemed to flash across his alert mind. He drew the revolver halfway from his belt, probably in a scarcely conscious movement born of the desire to assure himself of its presence. With a cry of alarm, Herbert flung himself before the king, who sat back upon the bed. Rupert puzzled, vexed, yet half amused, for he smiled still, the man said. Took a step forward, crying out something about Rischenheim. What, Herbert could not tell us? Keep back, exclaimed the king, keep back. Rupert paused. Then, as though with a sudden thought, he held up the box that was in his left hand, saying, Well, look at this, sire, and we'll talk afterwards. And he stretched out his hand with the box in it. Now the king stood on a razor's edge. But the king whispered to Herbert, What is it? Go and take it. But Herbert hesitated, fearing to leave the king, whom his body now protected as though with a shield. Rupert's impatience overcame him. If there were a trap, every moment's delay doubled his danger. With a scornful laugh, he exclaimed, Catch it then, if you're afraid to come for it. And he flung the packet to Herbert or the king, or whichever of them might chance to catch it. This incidence had a strange result. In an instant, with a fierce growl and a mighty bound Boris was at the stranger's throat, Rupert had not seen or had not heeded the dog. A startled oath rang out from him. He snatched the revolver from his belt and fired at his assailant. This shot must have broken the beast's shoulder, but it only half arrested his spring. His great weight was still hurled on Rupert's chest and bore him back on his knee. The packet that he had flung lay unheeded. The king, wild with alarm and furious with anger at his favourites fate, jumped up and ran past Rupert into the next room. Herbert followed. Even as they went, Rupert flung the wounded, weakened beast from him, and darted to the doorway. He found himself facing Herbert, who held a boar spear, and the king, who had a double-barreled hunting-gun. He raised his left hand, Herbert said. No doubt he still asked the hearing, but the king levelled his weapon. With the spring, Rupert gained the shelter of the door. The bullets sped by him and buried itself in the wall of the room. Then Herbert was at him with the boar spear. Explanations must wait now. It was life or death. Without hesitation, Rupert fired at Herbert, bringing him to the ground with a mortal wound. The king's gun was at his shoulder again. You damn fool, roared Rupert, if you must have it, take it! And gun and revolver rang out at the same moment. But Rupert never did his nerve fail him hit. The king missed. Herbert saw the count stand for an instant, with his smoking barrel in his hand, looking at the king who lay on the ground. Then Rupert walked towards the door. I wish I had seen his face then. Did he frown or smile? Was triumph or shall I ground her up a most? Remorse, not he. He reached the door and passed through. That was the last Herbert saw of him, but the fourth actor in the drama, the wordless player whose part had been so momentous, took the stage, limping along, now whining in sharp agony, now growling in fierce anger, with blood flowing, but hair bristling. The hound Boris dragged himself across the room, through the door, after Rupert of Hentzow. Herbert listened, raising his head from the ground. There was a growl, an oath, the sound of the scuffle. Rupert must have turned in time to receive the dog's spring. The beast, maimed and crippled by his shattered shoulder, did not reach his enemy's face, but his teeth tore away the bit of cloth that we had found held in the vice of his jaws. Then came another shot, a laugh, retreating steps, and a door slammed. With that last sound, Herbert woke to the fact of the count's escape. With weary efforts he dragged himself into the passage, the idea that he could go on if he got a drink of brandy turned him in the direction of the cellar, but his strength failed, and he sank down where we found him, not knowing whether the king were dead or still alive, and unable even to make his way back to the room where his master lay stretched on the ground. I had listened to the story, bound as though by a spell. Halfway through, James' hand had crept to my arm, and rested there. When Herbert finished, I heard the little man licking his lips again and again, slapping his tongue against them. Then I looked at Zapp. He was as pale as a ghost, and the lines on his face seemed to have grown deeper. He glanced up and met my regard. Neither of us spoke. We exchanged thoughts with our eyes. This is our work, we said to one another. It was our trap. I licked him's. I cannot even now think of that hour, for by our act the king lay dead. But was he dead? I seized Zapp by the arm. His glance questioned me. The king, I whispered hoarsely. Yes, a king, he returned. Facing round, we walked to the door of the dining room. Here I turned suddenly faint and clutched at the constable. He held me up and pushed the door wide open. The smell of powder was in the room. It seemed as if the smoke hung about, curling in dim coils round the chandelier, which gave a subdued light. James had the lamp now and followed us with it. But the king was not there. A sudden hope filled me. He had not been killed then. I regained strength and darted across towards the inside room. Here too the light was dim and I turned to beckon for the lamp. Zapp and James came together and stood peering over my shoulder in the doorway. The king lay prone on the floor, faced downwards, near the bed. He had crawled there, seeking for some place to rest, as we supposed. He did not move. We watched him for a moment. The silence seemed deeper than silence could be. At last, moved by a common impulse, we stepped forward, but timidly as though we approached the throne of death himself. When Neil by the king and raised his head, blood had flowed from his lips, but it had ceased to flow now. He was dead. I felt Zapp's hand on my shoulder. Looking up, I saw his other hand stretched out towards the ground. I turned my eyes where he pointed. There, in the king's hand, stained with the king's blood, was the box that I had carried to Wintenburg and Rupert of Hensow had brought to the lodge that night. It was not rest, but the box that the dying king had sought in his last moment. I bent, and lifting his hand, unclasped the fingers, still limp and warm. Zapp bent down with sudden eagerness. Is it open? He whispered. The string was rounded, the ceiling wax was unbroken, the secret had outlived the king, and he had gone to his death unknowing. All at once I cannot tell why I put my hand over my eyes. I found my eyelashes were wet. Is it open? asked Zapp again, for in the dim light he could not see. No, I answered. Thank God! said he, and for Zapp's the voice was soft.