to Strelsau--"

"But, sire, if I have a clue here?"

"Go back to Strelsau," I repeated. "Tell the Ambassador that you have a
clue, but that you must be left alone for a week or two. Meanwhile, I'll
charge myself with looking into the matter."

"The Ambassador is very pressing, sir."

"You must quiet him. Come, sir; you see that if your suspicions are
correct, it is an affair in which we must move with caution. We can have
no scandal. Mind you return tonight."

He promised to obey me, and I rode on to rejoin my companions, a little
easier in my mind. Enquiries after me must be stopped at all hazards for
a week or two; and this clever official had come surprisingly near the
truth. His impression might be useful some day, but if he acted on it
now it might mean the worse to the King. Heartily did I curse George
Featherly for not holding his tongue.

"Well," asked Flavia, "have you finished your business?"

"Most satisfactorily," said I. "Come, shall we turn round? We are almost
trenching on my brother's territory."

We were, in fact, at the extreme end of the town, just where the hills
begin to mount towards the Castle. We cast our eyes up, admiring the
massive beauty of the old walls, and we saw a cortege winding slowly
down the hill. On it came.

"Let us go back," said Sapt.

"I should like to stay," said Flavia; and I reined my horse beside hers.

We could distinguish the approaching party now. There came first two
mounted servants in black uniforms, relieved only by a silver badge.
These were followed by a car drawn by four horses: on it, under a
heavy pall, lay a coffin; behind it rode a man in plain black clothes,
carrying his hat in his hand. Sapt uncovered, and we stood waiting,
Flavia keeping by me and laying her hand on my arm.

"It is one of the gentlemen killed in the quarrel, I expect," she said.

I beckoned to a groom.

"Ride and ask whom they escort," I ordered.

He rode up to the servants, and I saw him pass on to the gentleman who
rode behind.

"It's Rupert of Hentzau," whispered Sapt.

Rupert it was, and directly afterwards, waving to the procession to
stand still, Rupert trotted up to me. He was in a frock-coat, tightly
buttoned, and trousers. He wore an aspect of sadness, and he bowed with
profound respect. Yet suddenly he smiled, and I smiled too, for old
Sapt's hand lay in his left breast-pocket, and Rupert and I both guessed
what lay in the hand inside the pocket.

"Your Majes