I learnt, they
might prove of interest to the statesmen of Europe. I intend to do
neither of these things. I should be between the Scylla of dullness and
the Charybdis of indiscretion, and I feel that I had far better confine
myself strictly to the underground drama which was being played beneath
the surface of Ruritanian politics. I need only say that the secret of
my imposture defied detection. I made mistakes. I had bad minutes: it
needed all the tact and graciousness whereof I was master to smooth over
some apparent lapses of memory and unmindfulness of old acquaintances of
which I was guilty. But I escaped, and I attribute my escape, as I have
said before, most of all, to the very audacity of the enterprise. It is
my belief that, given the necessary physical likeness, it was far easier
to pretend to be King of Ruritania than it would have been to personate
my next-door neighbour. One day Sapt came into my room. He threw me a
letter, saying:

"That's for you--a woman's hand, I think. But I've some news for you
first."

"What's that?"

"The King's at the Castle of Zenda," said he.

"How do you know?"

"Because the other half of Michael's Six are there. I had enquiries
made, and they're all there--Lauengram, Krafstein, and young Rupert
Hentzau: three rogues, too, on my honour, as fine as live in Ruritania."

"Well?"

"Well, Fritz wants you to march to the Castle with horse, foot, and
artillery."

"And drag the moat?" I asked.

"That would be about it," grinned Sapt, "and we shouldn't find the
King's body then."

"You think it's certain he's there?"

"Very probable. Besides the fact of those three being there, the
drawbridge is kept up, and no one goes in without an order from young
Hentzau or Black Michael himself. We must tie Fritz up."

"I'll go to Zenda," said I.

"You're mad."

"Some day."

"Oh, perhaps. You'll very likely stay there though, if you do."

"That may be, my friend," said I carelessly.

"His Majesty looks sulky," observed Sapt. "How's the love affair?"

"Damn you, hold your tongue!" I said.

He looked at me for a moment, then he lit his pipe. It was quite true
that I was in a bad temper, and I went on perversely:

"Wherever I go, I'm dodged by half a dozen fellows."

"I know you are; I send 'em," he replied composedly.

"What for?"

"Well," said Sapt, puffing away, "it wouldn't be exactly inconvenient
for Black Michael if you disappeared. With you gone, the old game tha