“I don’t say that it isn’t a pity, for Rudolf makes a good king. But you see it’s impossible, isn’t it?” James nursed his knee between his hands, and his pipe, which he had replaced, stuck out of one corner of his mouth. “When you say impossible, sir,” he remarked deferentially, “I venture to differ from you.” “You do? Come, we’re at leisure. Let’s hear how it would be possible.” “My master is in Strelsau, sir,” began James. “Well, most likely.” “I’m sure of it, sir. If he’s been there, he will be taken for the king.” “That has happened before, and no doubt may happen again, unless--” “Why, of course, sir, unless the king’s body should be discovered.” “That’s what I was about to say, James.” James kept silence for a few minutes. Then he observed, “It will be very awkward to explain how the king was killed.” “The story will need good telling,” admitted Sapt. “And it will be difficult to make it appear that the king was killed in Strelsau; yet if my master should chance to be killed in Strelsau--” “Heaven forbid, James! On all grounds, Heaven forbid!” “Even if my master is not killed, it will be difficult for us to get the king killed at the right time, and by means that will seem plausible.” Sapt seemed to fall into the humor of the speculation. “That’s all very true. But if Mr. Rassendyll is to be king, it will be both awkward and difficult to dispose of the king’s body and of this poor fellow Herbert,” said he, sucking at his pipe. Again James paused for a little while before he remarked: “I am, of course, sir, only discussing the matter by way of passing the time. It would probably be wrong to carry any such plan into effect.” “It might be, but let us discuss it--to pass the time,” said Sapt; and he leant forward, looking into the servant’s quiet, shrewd face. “Well, then, sir, since it amuses you, let us say that the king came to the lodge last night, and was joined there by his friend Mr. Rassendyll.” “And did I come too?” “You, sir, came also, in attendance on the king.” “Well, and you, James? You came. How came you?” “Why, sir, by the Count of Tarlenheim’s orders, to wait on Mr. Rassendyll, the king’s friend. Now, the king, sir... This is my story, you know, sir, only my story.” “Your story interests me. Go on with it.” “The king went out very early this morning, sir.” “That would be on private business?” “So we should have understood. But Mr. Rassendyll, Herbert, and ourselves remained here.” “Had the Count of Hentzau been?” “Not to our knowledge, sir. But we were all tired and slept very soundly.” “Now did we?” said the constable, with a grim smile. “In fact, sir, we were all overcome with fatigue--Mr. Rassendyll like the rest--and full morning found us still in our beds. There we should be to this moment, sir, had we not been suddenly aroused in a startling and fearful manner.” “You should write story books, James. Now what was this fearful manner in which we were aroused?”