"He is probably both," agreed Meyer, "and he is also a bitterly disappointed man. The gentleman for whom his hatred is being nursed is now in the Marienkastel, and I don't think you need have any anxiety as to the accuracy of Von Hügelweiler's guns." For a moment Meyer's calm assurance won silence. The troops continued to arrive from the lower town and take their appointed positions on the road that led to Weissheim. The Commander-in-Chief might be making mistakes, but if so they were not the errors of a stupid mind. Karl began for the first time to appreciate the true merits of the Jew's scheme. When the invaders' position in the castle was rendered untenable they would have no path open to them but the one by which they had come. Then, doubtless having frittered away their strength in vain efforts to break through to Weissheim, Meyer would deliver a crushing counter attack as they drew off, spent and shattered, down the hillside. Von Bilderbaum, however, failed to see things with the same eye of faith. "Why doesn't Von Hügelweiler open fire now?" he demanded. "Because he has not received the order to do so," Meyer replied. "Why not?" persisted Bilderbaum. Meyer's eyes contracted. He had the air of a wise man dealing with a foolish one; and when he spoke it was with more than a touch of impatience. "The enemy's guns are now half-way up the hill," he said. "When they have kindly brought them the whole way we shall have something to say to them." "And they may have something to say to us," retorted the General. Meyer shrugged his shoulders, as if convinced of the hopelessness of trying to instil intelligence into the other's skull. "If I were you," went on Bilderbaum, "I should send a couple of regiments full pelt against those guns. We might bring off a very effective ski-charge down the slope." "And lose fifty or sixty men," sneered Meyer. "It would at any rate be fighting. At the present moment we're lowering the _morale_ of our troops by palsied inaction." "If General von Bilderbaum were in supreme command of his Majesty's forces," said Meyer, "I have no doubt that the battle would be short, sharp, and decisive--only the decision would not be in our favour." Von Bilderbaum flushed scarlet. He was essentially a fighting man, with the fighting man's contempt of the Jew, and his calculated inactivity. Meyer's gentle gift of rudeness pierced his thick skin with inflaming venom. A sense of discipline and the presence of the enemy alone restrained him from violence. In despair he turned to his Sovereign. "Have I your permission to head a charge against the guns, sire?" he asked. But Karl's face had taken on a new look of decision.