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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.
I drew back as far as I could from the door, holding the table in the position that I have described. Then I called out: "Gentlemen, I accept your offer, relying on your honour. If you will open the door " "Open it yourself," said Detchard. "It opens outwards," said I. "Stand back a little, gentlemen, or I shall hit you when I open it." I went and fumbled with the latch.
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.
And indeed it was time, for the wound that Detchard had given me was broken forth afresh, and my blood was staining the ground. "Then give me the horse!" I cried, staggering to my feet and throwing his arms off me. And the strength of my rage carried me so far as where the horse stood, and then I fell prone beside it. And Fritz knelt by me again. "Fritz!" I said.
He was a finely made man, broad in the shoulder and slender in the hips. A good fighter, but a crooked customer, I put him down for. I spoke to him in English, with a slight foreign accent, and I swear the fellow smiled, though he hid the smile in an instant. "So Mr. Detchard is in the secret," thought I. Having got rid of my dear brother and his friends, I returned to make my adieu to my cousin.
It was his, though it was faint and hollow different from the merry tones I had heard in the glades of the forest. "Pray my brother," said the King, "to kill me. I am dying by inches here." "The duke does not desire your death, sire yet," sneered Detchard; "when he does behold your path to heaven!" The King answered: "So be it! And now, if your orders allow it, pray leave me."
"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.
I dare say he scowled it was a great regret to me that I could not see their faces better but his voice was even and calm, as he answered: "Enough, enough! We mustn't quarrel, Rupert. Are Detchard and Bersonin at their posts?" "They are, sir." "I need you no more." "Nay, I'm not oppressed with fatigue," said Rupert. "Pray, sir, leave us," said Michael, more impatiently.
Then I heard a voice a harsh, grating voice: "Well, sire, if you have had enough of my society, I will leave you to repose; but I must fasten the little ornaments first." It was Detchard! I caught the English accent in a moment. "Have you anything to ask, sire, before we part?" The King's voice followed.
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