"Very well, sir."

I raised myself in bed.

"Here's luck," I cried, catching up the lemonade James had brought me,
and taking a gulp of it.

"Please God," said Rudolf, with a shrug.

And he was gone to his work and his reward--to save the queen's letter
and to see the queen's face. Thus he went a second time to Zenda.

CHAPTER IV. AN EDDY ON THE MOAT

On the evening of Thursday, the sixteenth of October, the Constable of
Zenda was very much out of humor; he has since confessed as much. To
risk the peace of a palace for the sake of a lover's greeting had never
been wisdom to his mind, and he had been sorely impatient with "that
fool Fritz's" yearly pilgrimage. The letter of farewell had been an
added folly, pregnant with chances of disaster. Now disaster, or the
danger of it, had come. The curt, mysterious telegram from Wintenberg,
which told him so little, at least told him that. It ordered him--and he
did not know even whose the order was--to delay Rischenheim's audience,
or, if he could not, to get the king away from Zenda: why he was to act
thus was not disclosed to him. But he knew as well as I that Rischenheim
was completely in Rupert's hands, and he could not fail to guess that
something had gone wrong at Wintenberg, and that Rischenheim came to
tell the king some news that the king must not hear. His task sounded
simple, but it was not easy; for he did not know where Rischenheim was,
and so could not prevent his coming; besides, the king had been very
pleased to learn of the count's approaching visit, since he desired to
talk with him on the subject of a certain breed of dogs, which the count
bred with great, his Majesty with only indifferent success; therefore
he had declared that nothing should interfere with his reception of
Rischenheim. In vain Sapt told him that a large boar had been seen in
the forest, and that a fine day's sport might be expected if he would
hunt next day. "I shouldn't be back in time to see Rischenheim," said
the king.

"Your Majesty would be back by nightfall," suggested Sapt.

"I should be too tired to talk to him, and I've a great deal to
discuss."

"You could sleep at the hunting-lodge, sire, and ride back to receive
the count next morning."

"I'm anxious to see him as soon as may be." Then he looked up at Sapt
with a sick man's quick suspicion. "Why shouldn't I see him?" he asked.

"It's a pity to miss the boar, sire," was all Sapt's plea. The king made
light of