old him with something already known to him
but unknown to us. The little servant stood all the while in respectful
stillness by the door; but I could see by a glance at his alert face
that he followed the whole scene with keen attention.

At the end of the story, Rudolf turned to Sapt. "And your secret--is it
safe?" he asked.

"Ay, it's safe enough!"

"Nobody has seen what you had to hide?"

"No; and nobody knows that the king is dead," answered Sapt.

"Then what brings you here?"

"Why, the same thing that was about to bring you to the lodge: the need
of a meeting between yourself and me, sire."

"But the lodge--is it left unguarded?"

"The lodge is safe enough," said Colonel Sapt.

Unquestionably there was a secret, a new secret, hidden behind the curt
words and brusque manner. I could restrain myself no longer, and sprang
forward, saying: "What is it? Tell us, Constable!"

He looked at me, then glanced at Mr. Rassendyll.

"I should like to hear your plan first," he said to Rudolf. "How do you
mean to account for your presence alive in the city to-day, when the
king has lain dead in the shooting-box since last night?"

We drew close together as Rudolf began his answer. Sapt alone lay back
in his chair. The queen also had resumed her seat; she seemed to pay
little heed to what we said. I think that she was still engrossed with
the struggle and tumult in her own soul. The sin of which she accused
herself, and the joy to which her whole being sprang in a greeting which
would not be abashed, were at strife between themselves, but joined
hands to exclude from her mind any other thought.

"In an hour I must be gone from here," began Rudolf.

"If you wish that, it's easy," observed Colonel Sapt.

"Come, Sapt, be reasonable," smiled Mr. Rassendyll. "Early to-morrow,
we--you and I--"

"Oh, I also?" asked the colonel.

"Yes; you, Bernenstein, and I will be at the lodge."

"That's not impossible, though I have had nearly enough riding."

Rudolf fixed his eyes firmly on Sapt's.

"You see," he said, "the king reaches his hunting-lodge early in the
morning."

"I follow you, sire."

"And what happens there, Sapt? Does he shoot himself accidentally?"

"Well, that happens sometimes."

"Or does an assassin kill him?"

"Eh, but you've made the best assassin unavailable."

Even at this moment I could not help smiling at the old fellow's surly
wit and Rudolf's amused tolerance of it.

"Or does his faith