Sapt ran on. Opening the gate that led to the bridge, he sped across. Then, stepping on one side and turning his face to the wall, he descended the steps that gave foothold down to the ledge running six or eight inches above the water. He also was now in the triangle of deep darkness, yet he knew that a man was there, who stood straight and tall, rising above his own height. And he felt his hand caught in a sudden grip. Rudolf Rassendyll was there, in his wet drawers and socks. “Is it you?” he whispered. “Yes,” answered Rudolf; “I swam round from the other side and got here. Then I threw in a bit of mortar, but I wasn’t sure I’d roused you, and I didn’t dare shout, so I followed it myself. Lay hold of me a minute while I get on my breeches: I didn’t want to get wet, so I carried my clothes in a bundle. Hold me tight, it’s slippery.” “In God’s name what brings you here?” whispered Sapt, catching Rudolf by the arm as he was directed. “The queen’s service. When does Rischenheim come?” “To-morrow at eight.” “The deuce! That’s earlier than I thought. And the king?” “Is here and determined to see him. It’s impossible to move him from it.” There was a moment’s silence; Rudolf drew his shirt over his head and tucked it into his trousers. “Give me the jacket and waistcoat,” he said. “I feel deuced damp underneath, though.” “You’ll soon get dry,” grinned Sapt. “You’ll be kept moving, you see.” “I’ve lost my hat.” “Seems to me you’ve lost your head too.” “You’ll find me both, eh, Sapt?” “As good as your own, anyhow,” growled the constable. “Now the boots, and I’m ready.” Then he asked quickly, “Has the king seen or heard from Rischenheim?” “Neither, except through me.” “Then why is he so set on seeing him?” “To find out what gives dogs smooth coats.” “You’re serious? Hang you, I can’t see your face.” “Absolutely.” “All’s well, then. Has he got a beard now?” “Yes.” “Confound him! Can’t you take me anywhere to talk?” “What the deuce are you here at all for?” “To meet Rischenheim.” “To meet--?” “Yes. Sapt, he’s got a copy of the queen’s letter.” Sapt twirled his moustache. “I’ve always said as much,” he remarked in tones of satisfaction. He need not have said it; he would have been more than human not to think it. “Where can you take me to?” asked Rudolf impatiently. “Any room with a door and a lock to it,” answered old Sapt. “I command here, and when I say ‘Stay out’--well, they don’t come in.” “Not the king?” “The king is in bed. Come along,” and the constable set his toe on the lowest step. “Is there nobody about?” asked Rudolf, catching his arm. “Bernenstein; but he will keep his back toward us.” “Your discipline is still good, then, Colonel?” “Pretty well for these days, your Majesty,” grunted Sapt, as he reached the level of the bridge. Having crossed, they entered the chateau. The passage was empty, save for Bernenstein, whose broad back barred the way from the royal apartments.