"I am ordered to wait outside till his Majesty summons me," he said in a low voice, as though he feared that the irritable king would hear him. "I'll open the door and announce you. Pray keep him in a good temper, for all our sakes." And he flung the door open, saying, "Sire, the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim has the honor to wait on your Majesty." With this he shut the door promptly, and stood against it. Nor did he move, save once, and then only to take out his revolver and carefully inspect it.
The count advanced, bowing low, and striving to conceal a visible agitation. He saw the king in his arm-chair; the king wore a suit of brown tweeds (none the better for being crushed into a bundle the night before); his face was in deep shadow, but Rischenheim perceived that the beard was indeed gone. The king held out his hand to Rischenheim, and motioned him to sit in a chair just opposite to him and within a foot of the window-curtains.
"I'm delighted to see you, my lord," said the king.
Rischenheim looked up. Rudolf's voice had once been so like the king's that no man could tell the difference, but in the last year or two the king's had grown weaker, and Rischenheim seemed to be struck by the vigor of the tones in which he was addressed.
As he looked up, there was a slight movement in the curtains by him; it died away when the count gave no further signs of suspicion, but Rudolf had noticed his surprise: the voice, when it next spoke, was subdued.
"Most delighted," pursued Mr. Rassendyll. "For I am pestered beyond endurance about those dogs. I can't get the coats right, I've tried everything, but they won't come as I wish. Now, yours are magnificent."
"You are very good, sire. But I ventured to ask an audience in order to--"
"Positively you must tell me about the dogs. And before Sapt comes, for I want nobody to hear but myself."
"Your Majesty expects Colonel Sapt?"
"In about twenty minutes," said the king, with a glance at the clock on the mantelpiece.
At this Rischenheim became all on fire to get his errand done before Sapt appeared.
"The coats of your dogs," pursued the king, "grow so beautifully--"
"A thousand pardons, sire, but--"
"Long and silky, that I despair of--"
"I have a most urgent and important matter," persisted Rischenheim in agony.
Rudolf threw himself back in his chair with a peevish air. "Well, if you must, you must. What is this great affair, Count? Let us have it over, and then you can tell me about the dogs."
Rischenheim looked round the room. There was nobody; the curtains were still; the king's left hand caressed his beardless chin; the right was hidden from his visitor by the small table that stood between them.
"Sire, my cousin, the Count of Hentzau, has entrusted me with a message."
Rudolf suddenly assumed a stern air.
"I can hold no communication, directly or indirectly, with the Count of Hentzau," said he.
"Pardon me, sire, pardon me. A document has come into the count's hands which is of vital importance to your Majesty."
"The Count of Hentzau, my lord, has incurred my heaviest displeasure."
"Sire, it is in the hopes of atoning for his offences that he has sent me here to-day. There is a conspiracy against your Majesty's honor."
"By whom, my lord?" asked Rudolf, in cold and doubting tones.
"By those who are very near your Majesty's person and very high in your Majesty's love."
"Name them."
"Sire, I dare not. You would not believe me. But your Majesty will believe written evidence."
"Show it me, and quickly. We may be interrupted."
"Sire, I have a copy--"
"Oh, a copy, my lord?" sneered Rudolf.
"My cousin has the original, and will forward it at your Majesty's command. A copy of a letter of her Majesty's--"
"Of the queen's?"
"Yes, sire. It is addressed to--" Rischenheim paused.
"Well, my lord, to whom?"
"To a Mr. Rudolf Rassendyll."
Now Rudolf played his part well. He did not feign indifference, but allowed his voice to tremble with emotion as he stretched out his hand and said in a hoarse whisper, "Give it me, give it me."
Rischenheim's eyes sparkled. His shot had told: the king's attention was his; the coats of the dogs were forgotten. Plainly he had stirred the suspicions and jealousy of the king.
"My cousin," he continued, "conceives it his duty to lay the letter before your Majesty. He obtained it--"
"A curse on how he got it! Give it me!"
Rischenheim unbuttoned his coat, then his waistcoat. The head of a revolver showed in a belt round his waist. He undid the flap of a pocket in the lining of his waistcoat, and he began to draw out a sheet of paper.
But Rudolf, great as his powers of self-control were, was but human. When he saw the paper, he leant forward, half rising from his chair. As a result, his face came beyond the shadow of the curtain, and the full morning light beat on it. As Rischenheim took the paper out, he looked up. He saw the face that glared so eagerly at him; his eyes met Rassendyll's: a sudden suspicion seized him, for the face, though the king's face in every feature, bore a stern resolution and witnessed a vigor that were not the king's. In that instant the truth, or a hint of it, flashed across his mind. He gave a half-articulate cry; in one hand he crumpled up the paper, the other flew to his revolver.
But he was too late. Rudolf's left hand encircled his hand and the paper in an iron grip; Rudolf's revolver was on his temple;
and an arm was stretched out from behind the curtain, holding another barrel full before his eyes, while a dry voice said, "You'd best take it quietly." Then Sapt stepped out.
Rischenheim had no words to meet the sudden transformation of the interview. He seemed to be able to do nothing but stare at Rudolf Rassendyll. Sapt wasted no time. He snatched the count's revolver and stowed it in his own pocket.
