English servants.

"James," said Rudolf, "this gentleman has hurt his head. Look after it."

James went out. In a few minutes he was back, with water, basin, towels,
and bandages. Bending over me, he began to wash and tend my wound very
deftly. Rudolf was walking up and down.

"Done the head, James?" he asked, after a few moments.

"Yes, sir," answered the servant, gathering together his appliances.

"Telegraph forms, then."

James went out, and was back with the forms in an instant.

"Be ready when I ring," said Rudolf. And he added, turning to me, "Any
easier, Fritz?"

"I can listen to you now," I said.

"I see their game," said he. "One or other of them, Rupert or this
Rischenheim, will try to get to the king with the letter."

I sprang to my feet.

"They mustn't," I cried, and I reeled back into my chair, with a feeling
as if a red-hot poker were being run through my head.

"Much you can do to stop 'em, old fellow," smiled Rudolf, pausing to
press my hand as he went by. "They won't trust the post, you know. One
will go. Now which?" He stood facing me with a thoughtful frown on his
face.

I did not know, but I thought that Rischenheim would go. It was a great
risk for Rupert to trust himself in the kingdom, and he knew that the
king would not easily be persuaded to receive him, however startling
might be the business he professed as his errand. On the other hand,
nothing was known against Rischenheim, while his rank would secure, and
indeed entitle, him to an early audience. Therefore I concluded that
Rischenheim would go with the letter, or, if Rupert would not let that
out of his possession, with the news of the letter.

"Or a copy," suggested Rassendyll. "Well, Rischenheim or Rupert will be
on his way by to-morrow morning, or is on his way to-night."

Again I tried to rise, for I was on fire to prevent the fatal
consequences of my stupidity. Rudolf thrust me back in my chair, saying,
"No, no." Then he sat down at the table and took up the telegraph forms.

"You and Sapt arranged a cipher, I suppose?" he asked.

"Yes. You write the message, and I'll put it into the cipher."

"This is what I've written: 'Document lost. Let nobody see him if
possible. Wire who asks.' I don't like to make it plainer: most ciphers
can be read, you know."

"Not ours," said I.

"Well, but will that do?" asked Rudolf, with an unconvinced smile.

"Yes, I think he'll understand it." And I wrote it again in the cip