he market.
Rudolf crossed the square at a rapid walk, for he was afraid of the
soldiers who were gathering for early duty opposite to the barracks.
Fortunately he passed by them unobserved, and gained the comparative
seclusion of the street in which my house stands, without encountering
any further difficulties. In truth, he was almost in safety; but bad
luck was now to have its turn. When Mr. Rassendyll was no more than
fifty yards from my door, a carriage suddenly drove up and stopped a few
paces in front of him. The footman sprang down and opened the door. Two
ladies got out; they were dressed in evening costume, and were returning
from a ball. One was middle-aged, the other young and rather pretty.
They stood for a moment on the pavement, the younger saying:

"Isn't it pleasant, mother? I wish I could always be up at five
o'clock."

"My dear, you wouldn't like it for long," answered the elder. "It's very
nice for a change, but--"

She stopped abruptly. Her eye had fallen on Rudolf Rassendyll. He knew
her: she was no less a person than the wife of Helsing the chancellor;
his was the house at which the carriage had stopped. The trick that had
served with the sergeant of police would not do now. She knew the king
too well to believe that she could be mistaken about him; she was too
much of a busybody to be content to pretend that she was mistaken.

"Good gracious!" she whispered loudly, and, catching her daughter's arm,
she murmured, "Heavens, my dear, it's the king!"

Rudolf was caught. Not only the ladies, but their servants were looking
at him.

Flight was impossible. He walked by them. The ladies curtseyed, the
servants bowed bare-headed. Rudolf touched his hat and bowed slightly in
return. He walked straight on towards my house; they were watching him,
and he knew it. Most heartily did he curse the untimely hours to which
folks keep up their dancing, but he thought that a visit to my house
would afford as plausible an excuse for his presence as any other. So
he went on, surveyed by the wondering ladies, and by the servants who,
smothering smiles, asked one another what brought his Majesty abroad in
such a plight (for Rudolf's clothes were soaked and his boots muddy), at
such an hour--and that in Strelsau, when all the world thought he was at
Zenda.

Rudolf reached my house. Knowing that he was watched he had abandoned
all intention of giving the signal agreed on between my wife and himself
and of making h