man that you had taken the count for a
stroll round the castle, and I did not know where you were. He says that
the king may come himself at any moment."

Sapt 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 Bernenstein.
Remember, not a word of your errand, not a word of this gentleman! At
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 sha'n't stop me. Rudolf,
get behind the curtain. If there's an alarm you must jump through the
window into the moat and swim for it."

"All right," said Rudolf Rassendyll. "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."

Bernenstein looked in again. "Quick, quick! The man will be back," he
whispered.

"Bernenstein, 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 Rassendyll skipped behind the curtain. Sapt's revolver slipped
into a handy pocket. Rischenheim stood with arms dangling by his side
and his waistcoat half unbuttoned. Young Bernenstein 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 had told me you
were here, you shouldn't have waited a minute. You're very dark in here,
Sapt. Why don't you draw back the curtains?" and the king moved towards
the curtain behind which Rudolf was.

"Allow me, sire," cried Sapt, darting past him and laying a hand on the
curtain.

A malicious gleam of pleasure shot into Rischenheim's eyes. "In truth,
sire," 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, sire," put in young Bernenstein, "but breakfast waits."

"Yes, yes. Well, then, we'll have them together--breakfast and the
dogs. Come along, Count." The king passed his arm through Rischenheim's,
adding to Bernenstein, "Lead the way, Lieutenant; and you, Colonel, come