my cousin on my right hand, on her other side Black Michael,
and on my left his Eminence the Cardinal. Behind my chair stood Sapt;
and at the end of the table, I saw Fritz von Tarlenheim drain to the
bottom his glass of champagne rather sooner than he decently should.

I wondered what the King of Ruritania was doing.

CHAPTER 6

The Secret of a Cellar

We were in the King's dressing-room--Fritz von Tarlenheim, Sapt, and I.
I flung myself exhausted into an armchair. Sapt lit his pipe. He uttered
no congratulations on the marvellous success of our wild risk, but his
whole bearing was eloquent of satisfaction. The triumph, aided perhaps
by good wine, had made a new man of Fritz.

"What a day for you to remember!" he cried. "Gad, I'd like to be King
for twelve hours myself! But, Rassendyll, you mustn't throw your heart
too much into the part. I don't wonder Black Michael looked blacker than
ever--you and the princess had so much to say to one another."

"How beautiful she is!" I exclaimed.

"Never mind the woman," growled Sapt. "Are you ready to start?"

"Yes," said I, with a sigh.

It was five o'clock, and at twelve I should be no more than Rudolf
Rassendyll. I remarked on it in a joking tone.

"You'll be lucky," observed Sapt grimly, "if you're not the late Rudolf
Rassendyll. By Heaven! I feel my head wobbling on my shoulders every
minute you're in the city. Do you know, friend, that Michael has had
news from Zenda? He went into a room alone to read it--and he came out
looking like a man dazed."

"I'm ready," said I, this news making me none the more eager to linger.

Sapt sat down.

"I must write us an order to leave the city. Michael's Governor, you
know, and we must be prepared for hindrances. You must sign the order."

"My dear colonel, I've not been bred a forger!"

Out of his pocket Sapt produced a piece of paper.

"There's the King's signature," he said, "and here," he went on, after
another search in his pocket, "is some tracing paper. If you can't
manage a 'Rudolf' in ten minutes, why--I can."

"Your education has been more comprehensive than mine," said I. "You
write it."

And a very tolerable forgery did this versatile hero produce.

"Now, Fritz," said he, "the King goes to bed. He is upset. No one is to
see him till nine o'clock tomorrow. You understand--no one?"

"I understand," answered Fritz.

"Michael may come, and claim immediate audience. You'll answer that only
princes