Sapt laughed; Simon was gratified at the tribute, and laughed even more heartily himself. “We haven’t even cooked it yet,” said Sapt, “but I won’t answer for it that we sha’n’t have by to-morrow.” “All right, sir; I’ll be here. By the way, there’s another bit of news come on the wires. They say Count Rupert of Hentzau has been seen in the city.” “Rupert of Hentzau? Oh, pooh! Nonsense, my good Simon. He daren’t show his face there for his life.” “Ah, but it may be no nonsense. Perhaps that’s what took the king to Strelsau.” “It’s enough to take him if it’s true,” admitted Sapt. “Well, good day, sir.” “Good day, Simon.” The two huntsmen rode off. James watched them for a little while. “The king,” he said then, “is known to be in Strelsau; and now Count Rupert is known to be in Strelsau. How is Count Rupert to have killed the king here in the forest of Zenda, sir?” Sapt looked at him almost apprehensively. “How is the king’s body to come to the forest of Zenda?” asked James. “Or how is the king’s body to go to the city of Strelsau?” “Stop your damned riddles!” roared Sapt. “Man, are you bent on driving me into it?” The servant came near to him, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You went into as great a thing once before, sir,” said he. “It was to save the king.” “And this is to save the queen and yourself. For if we don’t do it, the truth about my master must be known.” Sapt made him no answer. They sat down again in silence. There they sat, sometimes smoking, never speaking, while the tedious afternoon wore away, and the shadows from the trees of the forest lengthened. They did not think of eating or drinking; they did not move, save when James rose and lit a little fire of brushwood in the grate. It grew dusk and again James moved to light the lamp. It was hard on six o’clock, and still no news came from Strelsau. Then there was the sound of a horse’s hoofs. The two rushed to the door, beyond it, and far along the grassy road that gave approach to the hunting-lodge. They forgot to guard the secret and the door gaped open behind them. Sapt ran as he had not run for many a day, and outstripped his companion. There was a message from Strelsau! The constable, without a word of greeting, snatched the envelope from the hand of the messenger and tore it open. He read it hastily, muttering under his breath “Good God!” Then he turned suddenly round and began to walk quickly back to James, who, seeing himself beaten in the race, had dropped to a walk. But the messenger had his cares as well as the constable. If the constable’s thoughts were on a crown, so were his. He called out in indignant protest: “I have never drawn rein since Hofbau, sir. Am I not to have my crown?” Sapt stopped, turned, and retraced his steps. He took a crown from his pocket. As he looked up in giving it, there was a queer smile on his broad, weather-beaten face. “Ay,” he said, “every man that deserves a crown shall have one, if I can give it him.”