truth, although it's not a good story."

The two men's eyes met again in a long glance.

"Where do you come from?" asked Sapt, suddenly.

"London, sir, originally."

"They make good stories there?"

"Yes, sir, and act them sometimes."

The instant he had spoken, James sprang to his feet and pointed out of
the window.

A man on horseback was cantering towards the lodge. Exchanging one
quick look, both hastened to the door, and, advancing some twenty yards,
waited under the tree on the spot where Boris lay buried.

"By the way," said Sapt, "you forgot the dog." And he pointed to the
ground.

"The affectionate beast will be in his master's room and die there,
sir."

"Eh, but he must rise again first!"

"Certainly, sir. That won't be a long matter."

Sapt was still smiling in grim amusement when the messenger came up and,
leaning from his home, handed him a telegram.

"Special and urgent, sir," said he.

Sapt tore it open and read. It was the message that I sent in obedience
to Mr. Rassendyll's orders. He would not trust my cipher, but, indeed,
none was necessary. Sapt would understand the message, although it said
simply, "The king is in Strelsau. Wait orders at the lodge. Business
here in progress, but not finished. Will wire again."

Sapt handed it to James, who took it with a respectful little bow. James
read it with attention, and returned it with another bow.

"I'll attend to what it says, sir," he remarked.

"Yes," said Sapt. "Thanks, my man," he added to the messenger. "Here's
a crown for you. If any other message comes for me and you bring it in
good time, you shall have another."

"You shall have it quick as a horse can bring it from the station, sir."

"The king's business won't bear delay, you know," nodded Sapt.

"You sha'n't have to wait, sir," and, with a parting salute, the fellow
turned his horse and trotted away.

"You see," remarked Sapt, "that your story is quite imaginary. For
that fellow can see for himself that the lodge was not burnt down last
night."

"That's true; but, excuse me, sir--"

"Pray go on, James. I've told you that I'm interested."

"He can't see that it won't be burnt down to-night. A fire, sir, is a
thing that may happen any night."

Then old Sapt suddenly burst into a roar, half-speech, half laughter.

"By God, what a thing!" he roared; and James smiled complacently.

"There's a fate about it," said the constable. "There's a strange fate
about it. T