THE doctor who attended me at Wintenberg was not only discreet, but also indulgent; perhaps he had the sense to see that little benefit would come to a sick man from fretting in helplessness on his back, when he was on fire to be afoot. I fear he thought the baker's rolling-pin was in my mind, but at any rate I extorted a consent from him, and was on my way home from Wintenberg not much more than twelve hours after Rudolf Rassendyll left me. Thus I
arrived at my own house in Strelsau on the same Friday morning that witnessed the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim's two-fold interview with the king at the Castle of Zenda. The moment I had arrived, I sent James, whose assistance had been, and continued to be, in all respects most valuable, to despatch a message to the constable, acquainting him with my whereabouts, and putting myself entirely at his disposal. Sapt received this message while a council of war was being held, and the information it gave aided not a little in the arrangements that the constable and Rudolf Rassendyll made. What these were I must now relate, although, I fear, at the risk of some tediousness.
Yet that council of war in Zenda was held under no common circumstances. Cowed as Rischenheim appeared, they dared not let him out of their sight. Rudolf could not leave the room into which Sapt had locked him; the king's absence was to be short, and before he came again Rudolf must be gone, Rischenheim safely disposed of, and measures taken against the original letter reaching the hands for which the intercepted copy had been destined. The room was a large one. In the corner farthest from the door sat Rischenheim, disarmed, dispirited, to all seeming ready to throw up his dangerous game and acquiesce in any terms presented to him. Just inside the door, guarding it, if need should be, with their lives, were the other three, Bernenstein merry and triumphant, Sapt blunt and cool, Rudolf calm and clear-headed. The queen awaited the result of their deliberations in her apartments, ready to act as they directed, but determined to see Rudolf before he left the castle. They conversed together in low tones. Presently Sapt took paper and wrote. This first message was to me, and it bade me come to Zenda that afternoon;
another head and another pair of hands were sadly needed. Then followed more deliberation; Rudolf took up the talking now, for his was the bold plan on which they consulted. Sapt twirled his moustache, smiling doubtfully.
"Yes, yes," murmured young Bernenstein, his eyes alight with excitement.
"It's dangerous, but the best thing," said Rudolf, carefully sinking his voice yet lower, lest the prisoner should catch the lightest word of what he said. "It involves my staying here till the evening. Is that possible?"
"No; but you can leave here and hide in the forest till I join you," said Sapt.
"Till we join you," corrected Bernenstein eagerly.
"No," said the constable, "you must look after our friend here.
Come, Lieutenant, it's all in the queen's service."
"Besides," added Rudolf with a smile, "neither the colonel nor I
would let you have a chance at Rupert. He's our game, isn't he, Sapt?"
The colonel nodded. Rudolf in his turn took paper, and here is the message that he wrote:
"Holf, 19, Konigstrasse, Strelsau.--All well. He has what I had, but wishes to see what you have. He and I will be at the hunting-lodge at ten this evening. Bring it and meet us. The business is unsuspected.--R."
Rudolf threw the paper across to Sapt; Bernenstein leant over the constable's shoulder and read it eagerly.
"I doubt if it would bring me," grinned old Sapt, throwing the paper down.
"It'll bring Rupert to Hentzau. Why not? He'll know that the king will wish to meet him unknown to the queen, and also unknown to you, Sapt, since you were my friend: what place more likely for the king to choose than his hunting-lodge, where he is accustomed to go when he wishes to be alone? The message will bring him, depend on it. Why, man, Rupert would come even if he suspected;
and why should he suspect?"
"They may have a cipher, he and Rischenheim," objected Sapt.
"No, or Rupert would have sent the address in it," retorted Rudolf quickly.
"Then--when he comes?" asked Bernenstein.
"He finds such a king as Rischenheim found, and Sapt, here, at his elbow."
"But he'll know you," objected Bernenstein.
"Ay, I think he'll know me," said Rudolf with a smile. "Meanwhile we send for Fritz to come here and look after the king."
"And Rischenheim?"
"That's your share, Lieutenant. Sapt, is any one at Tarlenheim?"
"No. Count Stanislas has put it at Fritz's disposal."
"Good; then Fritz's two friends, the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim and Lieutenant von Bernenstein, will ride over there to-day. The constable of Zenda will give the lieutenant twenty-four hours'
leave of absence, and the two gentlemen will pass the day and sleep at the chateau. They will pass the day side by side, Bernenstein, not losing sight of one another for an instant, and they will pass the night in the same room. And one of them will not close his eyes nor take his hand off the butt of his revolver."
"Very good, sir," said young Bernenstein.
"If he tries to escape or give any alarm, shoot him through the head, ride to the frontier, get to safe hiding, and, if you can, let us know."
"Yes," said Bernenstein simply. Sapt had chosen well, and the young officer made nothing of the peril and ruin that her Majesty's service might ask of him.
A restless movement and a weary sigh from Rischenheim attracted their attention. He had strained his ears to listen till his head ached, but the talkers had been careful, and he had heard nothing that threw light on their deliberations. He had now given up his vain attempt, and sat in listless inattention, sunk in an apathy.
"I don't think he'll give you much trouble," whispered Sapt to Bernenstein, with a jerk of his thumb towards the captive.
"Act as if he were likely to give you much," urged Rudolf, laying his hand on the lieutenant's arm.