he bent back the count's pliant body till trunk and head lay
flat on the table. Neither man spoke; their eyes met; each heard the
other's breathing and felt the vapor of it on his face. The girl outside
had seen the movement of Rudolf's figure, but her cranny did not serve
her to show her the two where they were now; she knelt on her knees in
ignorant suspense. Slowly and with a patient force Rudolf began to work
his enemy's arms towards one another. Rupert had read his design in his
eyes and resisted with tense muscles. It seemed as though his arms must
crack; but at last they moved. Inch by inch they were driven closer; now
the elbows almost touched; now the wrists joined in reluctant contact.
The sweat broke out on the count's brow, and stood in large drops on
Rudolf's. Now the wrists were side by side, and slowly the long sinewy
fingers of Rudolf's right hand, that held one wrist already in their
vise, began to creep round the other. The grip seemed to have half
numbed Rupert's arms, and his struggles grew fainter. Round both wrists
the sinewy fingers climbed and coiled; gradually and timidly the grasp
of the other hand was relaxed and withdrawn. Would the one hold both?
With a great spasm of effort Rupert put it to the proof.

The smile that bent Mr. Rassendyll's lips gave the answer. He could hold
both, with one hand he could hold both: not for long, no, but for an
instant. And then, in the instant, his left hand, free at last, shot to
the breast of the count's coat. It was the same that he had worn at
the hunting-lodge, and was ragged and torn from the boar-hound's teeth.
Rudolf tore it further open, and his hand dashed in.

"God's curse on you!" snarled Rupert of Hentzau.

But Mr. Rassendyll still smiled. Then he drew out a letter. A glance
at it showed him the queen's seal. As he glanced Rupert made another
effort. The one hand, wearied out, gave way, and Mr. Rassendyll had no
more than time to spring away, holding his prize. The next moment he had
his revolver in his hand--none too soon, for Rupert of Hentzau's barrel
faced him, and they stood thus, opposite to one another, with no more
than three or four feet between the mouths of their weapons.

There is, indeed, much that may be said against Rupert of Hentzau, the
truth about him well-nigh forbidding that charity of judgment which we
are taught to observe towards all men. But neither I nor any man who
knew him ever found in him a shrinking from danger or