Rischenheim looked up. Rudolf’s voice had once been so like the king’s that no man could tell the difference, but in the last year or two the king’s had grown weaker, and Rischenheim seemed to be struck by the vigor of the tones in which he was addressed. As he looked up, there was a slight movement in the curtains by him; it died away when the count gave no further signs of suspicion, but Rudolf had noticed his surprise: the voice, when it next spoke, was subdued. “Most delighted,” pursued Mr. Rassendyll. “For I am pestered beyond endurance about those dogs. I can’t get the coats right, I’ve tried everything, but they won’t come as I wish. Now, yours are magnificent.” “You are very good, sire. But I ventured to ask an audience in order to--” “Positively you must tell me about the dogs. And before Sapt comes, for I want nobody to hear but myself.” “Your Majesty expects Colonel Sapt?” “In about twenty minutes,” said the king, with a glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. At this Rischenheim became all on fire to get his errand done before Sapt appeared. “The coats of your dogs,” pursued the king, “grow so beautifully--” “A thousand pardons, sire, but--” “Long and silky, that I despair of--” “I have a most urgent and important matter,” persisted Rischenheim in agony. Rudolf threw himself back in his chair with a peevish air. “Well, if you must, you must. What is this great affair, Count? Let us have it over, and then you can tell me about the dogs.” Rischenheim looked round the room. There was nobody; the curtains were still; the king’s left hand caressed his beardless chin; the right was hidden from his visitor by the small table that stood between them. “Sire, my cousin, the Count of Hentzau, has entrusted me with a message.” Rudolf suddenly assumed a stern air. “I can hold no communication, directly or indirectly, with the Count of Hentzau,” said he. “Pardon me, sire, pardon me. A document has come into the count’s hands which is of vital importance to your Majesty.” “The Count of Hentzau, my lord, has incurred my heaviest displeasure.” “Sire, it is in the hopes of atoning for his offences that he has sent me here to-day. There is a conspiracy against your Majesty’s honor.” “By whom, my lord?” asked Rudolf, in cold and doubting tones. “By those who are very near your Majesty’s person and very high in your Majesty’s love.” “Name them.” “Sire, I dare not. You would not believe me. But your Majesty will believe written evidence.” “Show it me, and quickly. We may be interrupted.” “Sire, I have a copy--” “Oh, a copy, my lord?” sneered Rudolf. “My cousin has the original, and will forward it at your Majesty’s command. A copy of a letter of her Majesty’s--” “Of the queen’s?” “Yes, sire. It is addressed to--” Rischenheim paused. “Well, my lord, to whom?” “To a Mr. Rudolf Rassendyll.”