“No,” said the constable, “you must look after our friend here. Come, Lieutenant, it’s all in the queen’s service.” “Besides,” added Rudolf with a smile, “neither the colonel nor I would let you have a chance at Rupert. He’s our game, isn’t he, Sapt?” The colonel nodded. Rudolf in his turn took paper, and here is the message that he wrote: “Holf, 19, Konigstrasse, Strelsau.--All well. He has what I had, but wishes to see what you have. He and I will be at the hunting-lodge at ten this evening. Bring it and meet us. The business is unsuspected.--R.” Rudolf threw the paper across to Sapt; Bernenstein leant over the constable’s shoulder and read it eagerly. “I doubt if it would bring me,” grinned old Sapt, throwing the paper down. “It’ll bring Rupert to Hentzau. Why not? He’ll know that the king will wish to meet him unknown to the queen, and also unknown to you, Sapt, since you were my friend: what place more likely for the king to choose than his hunting-lodge, where he is accustomed to go when he wishes to be alone? The message will bring him, depend on it. Why, man, Rupert would come even if he suspected; and why should he suspect?” “They may have a cipher, he and Rischenheim,” objected Sapt. “No, or Rupert would have sent the address in it,” retorted Rudolf quickly. “Then--when he comes?” asked Bernenstein. “He finds such a king as Rischenheim found, and Sapt, here, at his elbow.” “But he’ll know you,” objected Bernenstein. “Ay, I think he’ll know me,” said Rudolf with a smile. “Meanwhile we send for Fritz to come here and look after the king.” “And Rischenheim?” “That’s your share, Lieutenant. Sapt, is any one at Tarlenheim?” “No. Count Stanislas has put it at Fritz’s disposal.” “Good; then Fritz’s two friends, the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim and Lieutenant von Bernenstein, will ride over there to-day. The constable of Zenda will give the lieutenant twenty-four hours’ leave of absence, and the two gentlemen will pass the day and sleep at the chateau. They will pass the day side by side, Bernenstein, not losing sight of one another for an instant, and they will pass the night in the same room. And one of them will not close his eyes nor take his hand off the butt of his revolver.” “Very good, sir,” said young Bernenstein. “If he tries to escape or give any alarm, shoot him through the head, ride to the frontier, get to safe hiding, and, if you can, let us know.” “Yes,” said Bernenstein simply. Sapt had chosen well, and the young officer made nothing of the peril and ruin that her Majesty’s service might ask of him. A restless movement and a weary sigh from Rischenheim attracted their attention. He had strained his ears to listen till his head ached, but the talkers had been careful, and he had heard nothing that threw light on their deliberations. He had now given up his vain attempt, and sat in listless inattention, sunk in an apathy.