nd watched
till they curled and crinkled into black, wafery ashes. Thus, at last
the queen's letter was safe.

When he had thus set the seal on his task he turned round to us again.
He paid no heed to Rischenheim, who was crouching down by the body of
Rupert; but he looked at Bernenstein and me, and then at the people
behind us. He waited a moment before he spoke; then his utterance was
not only calm but also very slow, so that he seemed to be choosing his
words carefully.

"Gentlemen," said he, "a full account of this matter will be rendered
by myself in due time. For the present it must suffice to say that this
gentleman who lies here dead sought an interview with me on private
business. I came here to find him, desiring, as he professed, to desire,
privacy. And here he tried to kill me. The result of his attempt you
see."

I bowed low, Bernenstein did the like, and all the rest followed our
example.

"A full account shall be given," said Rudolf. "Now let all leave me,
except the Count of Tarlenheim and Lieutenant von Bernenstein."

Most unwillingly, with gaping mouths and wonder-struck eyes, the throng
filed out of the door. Rischenheim rose to his feet.

"You stay, if you like," said Rudolf, and the count knelt again by his
kinsman.

Seeing the rough bedsteads by the wall of the attic, I touched
Rischenheim on the shoulder and pointed to one of them. Together we
lifted Rupert of Hentzau. The revolver was still in his hand, but
Bernenstein disengaged it from his grasp. Then Rischenheim and I laid
him down, disposing his body decently and spreading over it his riding
cloak, still spotted with the mud gathered on his midnight expedition to
the hunting-lodge. His face looked much as before the shot was fired;
in death, as in life, he was the handsomest fellow in all Ruritania. I
wager that many tender hearts ached and many bright eyes were dimmed for
him when the news of his guilt and death went forth. There are ladies
still in Strelsau who wear his trinkets in an ashamed devotion that
cannot forget. Well, even I, who had every good cause to hate and scorn
him, set the hair smooth on his brow; while Rischenheim was sobbing like
a child, and young Bernenstein rested his head on his arm as he leant on
the mantelpiece, and would not look at the dead. Rudolf alone seemed not
to heed him or think of him. His eyes had lost their unnatural look of
joy, and were now calm and tranquil. He took his own revolver from the