impossible. Only let me have the letter,
and I'll account for the concealment. What? Is the fact that crimes are
known never concealed, for fear of putting the criminal on his guard?"

"You'll be able to make a story, sir," James put in, with a grave but
reassuring air.

"Yes, James, I shall be able to make a story, or your master will make
one for me. But, by God, story or no story, the letter mustn't be found.
Let them say we killed him ourselves if they like, but--"

I seized his hand and gripped it.

"You don't doubt I'm with you?" I asked.

"Not for a moment, Fritz," he answered.

"Then how can we do it?"

We drew nearer together; Sapt and I sat, while James leant over Sapt's
chair.

The oil in the lamp was almost exhausted, and the light burnt very dim.
Now and again poor Herbert, for whom our skill could do nothing, gave a
slight moan. I am ashamed to remember how little we thought of him, but
great schemes make the actors in them careless of humanity; the life
of a man goes for nothing against a point in the game. Except for his
groans--and they grew fainter and less frequent--our voices alone broke
the silence of the little lodge.

"The queen must know," said Sapt. "Let her stay at Zenda and give
out that the king is at the lodge for a day or two longer. Then you,
Fritz--for you must ride to the castle at once--and Bernenstein must get
to Strelsau as quick as you can, and find Rudolf Rassendyll. You three
ought to be able to track young Rupert down and get the letter from him.
If he's not in the city, you must catch Rischenheim, and force him
to say where he is; we know Rischenheim can be persuaded. If Rupert's
there, I need give no advice either to you or to Rudolf."

"And you?"

"James and I stay here. If any one comes whom we can keep out, the king
is ill. If rumors get about, and great folk come, why, they must enter."

"But the body?"

"This morning, when you're gone, we shall make a temporary grave. I dare
say two," and he jerked his thumb towards poor Herbert.

"Or even," he added, with his grim smile, "three--for our friend Boris,
too, must be out of sight."

"You'll bury the king?"

"Not so deep but that we can take him out again, poor fellow. Well,
Fritz, have you a better plan?"

I had no plan, and I was not in love with Sapt's plan. Yet it offered
us four and twenty hours. For that time, at least, it seemed as if the
secret could be kept. Beyond that we could hardly hope for su