brains, I should be caught in much
the same way again. Though not by that fellow Bauer, I swear! Well,
there it was. They had made a fool of me. I lay on the road with a
bloody head, and Rupert of Hentzau had the queen's letter.

CHAPTER III. AGAIN TO ZENDA

By Heaven's care, or--since a man may be over-apt to arrogate to himself
great share of such attention--by good luck, I had not to trust for my
life to the slender thread of an oath sworn by Rupert of Hentzau. The
visions of my dazed brain were transmutations of reality; the scuffle,
the rush, the retreat were not all dream.

There is an honest fellow now living in Wintenberg comfortably and at
his ease by reason that his wagon chanced to come lumbering along with
three or four stout lads in it at the moment when Rupert was meditating
a second and murderous blow. Seeing the group of us, the good carrier
and his lads leapt down and rushed on my assailants. One of the thieves,
they said, was for fighting it out--I could guess who that was--and
called on the rest to stand; but they, more prudent, laid hands on him,
and, in spite of his oaths, hustled him off along the road towards
the station. Open country lay there and the promise of safety. My new
friends set off in pursuit; but a couple of revolver shots, heard by me,
but not understood, awoke their caution. Good Samaritans, but not men
of war, they returned to where I lay senseless on the ground,
congratulating themselves and me that an enemy so well armed should
run and not stand his ground. They forced a drink of rough wine down my
throat, and in a minute or two I opened my eyes. They were for carrying
me to a hospital; I would have none of it. As soon as things grew clear
to me again and I knew where I was, I did nothing but repeat in urgent
tones, "The Golden Lion, The Golden Lion! Twenty crowns to carry me to
the Golden Lion."

Perceiving that I knew my own business and where I wished to go, one
picked up my hand-bag and the rest hoisted me into their wagon and set
out for the hotel where Rudolf Rassendyll was. The one thought my broken
head held was to get to him as soon as might be and tell him how I had
been fool enough to let myself be robbed of the queen's letter.

He was there. He stood on the threshold of the inn, waiting for me, as
it seemed, although it was not yet the hour of my appointment. As they
drew me up to the door, I saw his tall, straight figure and his red hair
by the light of the