Going to take leave of the king, I found him huddled over the fire. The day was not cold, but the damp chill of his dungeon seemed to have penetrated to the very core of his bones. He was annoyed at my going, and questioned me peevishly about the business that occasioned my journey. I parried his curiosity as I best could, but did not succeed in appeasing his ill-humor. Half ashamed of his recent outburst, half-anxious to justify it to himself, he cried fretfully: “Business! Yes, any business is a good enough excuse for leaving me! By Heaven, I wonder if a king was ever served so badly as I am! Why did you trouble to get me out of Zenda? Nobody wants me, nobody cares whether I live or die.” To reason with such a mood was impossible. I could only assure him that I would hasten my return by all possible means. “Yes, pray do,” said he. “I want somebody to look after me. Who knows what that villain Rupert may attempt against me? And I can’t defend myself can I? I’m not Rudolf Rassendyll, am I?” Thus, with a mixture of plaintiveness and malice, he scolded me. At last I stood silent, waiting till he should be pleased to dismiss me. At any rate I was thankful that he entertained no suspicion as to my errand. Had I spoken a word of Mr. Rassendyll he would not have let me go. He had fallen foul of me before on learning that I was in communication with Rudolf; so completely had jealousy destroyed gratitude in his breast. If he had known what I carried, I do not think that he could have hated his preserver more. Very likely some such feeling was natural enough; it was none the less painful to perceive. On leaving the king’s presence, I sought out the Constable of Zenda. He knew my errand; and, sitting down beside him, I told him of the letter I carried, and arranged how to apprise him of my fortune surely and quickly. He was not in a good humor that day: the king had ruffled him also, and Colonel Sapt had no great reserve of patience. “If we haven’t cut one another’s throats before then, we shall all be at Zenda by the time you arrive at Wintenberg,” he said. “The court moves there to-morrow, and I shall be there as long as the king is.” He paused, and then added: “Destroy the letter if there’s any danger.” I nodded my head. “And destroy yourself with it, if there’s the only way,” he went on with a surly smile. “Heaven knows why she must send such a silly message at all; but since she must, she’d better have sent me with it.” I knew that Sapt was in the way of jeering at all sentiment, and I took no notice of the terms that he applied to the queen’s farewell. I contented myself with answering the last part of what he said. “No, it’s better you should be here,” I urged. “For if I should lose the letter--though there’s little chance of it--you could prevent it from coming to the king.” “I could try,” he grinned. “But on my life, to run the chance for a letter’s sake! A letter’s a poor thing to risk the peace of a kingdom for.”