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Updated: May 22, 2025
"De Gautet, Bersonin, and Detchard are in Strelsau; and any one of them, lad, would cut your throat as readily as readily as I would Black Michael's, and a deal more treacherously. What's the letter?" I opened it and read it aloud: "If the King desires to know what it deeply concerns the King to know, let him do as this letter bids him.
"Perhaps they'll cut mine," I suggested. "Nothing more likely," agreed Sapt. "Who are here, Fritz?" "De Gautet, Bersonin, and Detchard." "The foreigners! It's as plain as a pikestaff. He's brought them, and left the Ruritanians with the King; that's because he wants to commit the Ruritanians as deep as he can." "They were none of them among our friends at the lodge, then?" I asked.
But soon Fritz cried: "The door down there is open! See, there is light!" So they went on boldly, and found none to oppose them. And when they came to the outer room and saw the Belgian, Bersonin, lying dead, they thanked God, Sapt saying: "Ay, he has been here."
Have you a light?" said the other voice Bersonin's. No doubt they had a light, but they should not use it. It was come to the crisis now, and I rushed down the steps and flung myself against the door. Bersonin had unbolted it and it gave way before me. The Belgian stood there sword in hand, and Detchard was sitting on a couch at the side of the room.
For though Detchard was a cool man, relentless, and no coward, he had neither the dash nor the recklessness of Rupert. Moreover, he, if any one of them, really loved Black Michael, and it might be that he would leave Bersonin to guard the King, and rush across the bridge to take part in the affray on the other side. So I planned desperately.
I would have risked everything and attacked Detchard and Bersonin before their friends could join them. But I was powerless. I must wait till the coming of my friends enticed someone to cross the bridge someone with the keys. And I waited, as it seemed, for half an hour, really for about five minutes, before the next act in the rapid drama began. All was still on the other side.
Then I stole back to my place on tiptoe. "I can't open it!" I cried. "The latch has caught." "Tut! I'll open it!" cried Detchard. "Nonsense, Bersonin, why not? Are you afraid of one man?" I smiled to myself. An instant later the door was flung back. The gleam of a lantern showed me the three close together outside, their revolvers levelled.
For while suspense is bad for the sick, yet despair is worse still, and it might be that the King lay dying of mere hopelessness, for I could learn of no definite disease that afflicted him. "And how do they guard the King now?" I asked, remembering that two of the Six were dead, and Max Holf also. "Detchard and Bersonin watch by night, Rupert Hentzau and De Gautet by day, sir," he answered.
In astonishment at seeing me, Bersonin recoiled; Detchard jumped to his sword. I rushed madly at the Belgian: he gave way before me, and I drove him up against the wall. He was no swordsman, though he fought bravely, and in a moment he lay on the floor before me. I turned Detchard was not there.
By blessed chance, neither he nor Bersonin had been wearing their revolvers. I found them afterwards, ready loaded, on the mantelpiece of the outer room: it was hard by the door, ready to their hands, but my sudden rush in had cut off access to them. Yes, we were man to man: and we began to fight, silently, sternly, and hard.
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