Then, with a curse at himself for his delay, he turned and walked
quickly across the room. Opening the door, he found himself in the
passage. But here he ran right into the arms of young Bernenstein, the
officer of the guard, who was going his rounds. Sapt knew and trusted
him, for he had been with us all through the siege of Zenda, when
Michael kept the king a prisoner, and he bore marks given him by Rupert
of Hentzau's ruffians. He now held a commission as lieutenant in the
cuirassiers of the King's Guard.

He noticed Sapt's bearing, for he cried out in a low voice, "Anything
wrong, sir?"

"Bernenstein, my boy, the castle's all right about here. Go round to the
front, and, hang you, stay there," said Sapt.

The officer stared, as well he might. Sapt caught him by the arm.

"No, stay here. See, stand by the door there that leads to the royal
apartments. Stand there, and let nobody pass. You understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"And whatever you hear, don't look round."

Bernenstein's bewilderment grew greater; but Sapt was constable, and on
Sapt's shoulders lay the responsibility for the safety of Zenda and all
in it.

"Very well, sir," he said, with a submissive shrug, and he drew his
sword and stood by the door; he could obey, although he could not
understand.

Sapt ran on. Opening the gate that led to the bridge, he sped across.
Then, stepping on one side and turning his face to the wall, he
descended the steps that gave foothold down to the ledge running six or
eight inches above the water. He also was now in the triangle of deep
darkness, yet he knew that a man was there, who stood straight and tall,
rising above his own height. And he felt his hand caught in a sudden
grip. Rudolf Rassendyll was there, in his wet drawers and socks.

"Is it you?" he whispered.

"Yes," answered Rudolf; "I swam round from the other side and got here.
Then I threw in a bit of mortar, but I wasn't sure I'd roused you, and
I didn't dare shout, so I followed it myself. Lay hold of me a minute
while I get on my breeches: I didn't want to get wet, so I carried my
clothes in a bundle. Hold me tight, it's slippery."

"In God's name what brings you here?" whispered Sapt, catching Rudolf by
the arm as he was directed.

"The queen's service. When does Rischenheim come?"

"To-morrow at eight."

"The deuce! That's earlier than I thought. And the king?"

"Is here and determined to see him. It's impossible to move him from
it."

There