Rudolf gave me a little brandy mixed in a great deal of water, and then I made shift to tell him. Though faint, I was not confused, and I gave my story in brief, hurried, yet sufficient words. He made no sign till I mentioned the letter. Then his face changed. “A letter, too?” he exclaimed, in a strange mixture of increased apprehension and unlooked-for joy. “Yes, a letter, too; she wrote a letter, and I carried that as well as the box. I’ve lost them both, Rudolf. God help me, I’ve lost them both! Rupert has the letter too!” I think I must have been weak and unmanned from the blow I had received, for my composure broke down here. Rudolf stepped up to me and wrung me by the hand. I mastered myself again and looked in his face as he stood in thought, his hand caressing the strong curve of his clean-shaven chin. Now that I was with him again it seemed as though I had never lost him; as though we were still together in Strelsau or at Tarlenheim, planning how to hoodwink Black Michael, send Rupert of Hentzau to his own place, and bring the king back to his throne. For Mr. Rassendyll, as he stood before me now, was changed in nothing since our last meeting, nor indeed since he reigned in Strelsau, save that a few flecks of gray spotted his hair. My battered head ached most consumedly. Mr. Rassendyll rang the bell twice, and a short, thickset man of middle age appeared; he wore a suit of tweed, and had the air of smartness and respectability which marks 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.