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Updated: May 23, 2025
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.
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.
"I hope all beneath your roof are not sick. What of my good friends, De Gautet, Bersonin, and Detchard? I heard the last had suffered a hurt." Lauengram and Krafstein looked glum and uneasy, but young Rupert's smile grew broader. "He hopes soon to find a medicine for it, sire," he answered. And I burst out laughing, for I knew what medicine Detchard longed for it is called Revenge.
"Do you find," I asked, "any mention of a certain fracas?" He shook his head with a smile. His destination is believed to be the Castle of Zenda, but the party travelled by road and not by train. MM De Gautet, Bersonin, and Detchard followed an hour later, the last-named carrying his arm in a sling.
"Only the four lords have keys, sir." I drew nearer to him. "And have they keys of the grating?" I asked in a low whisper. "I think, sir, only Detchard and Rupert." "Where does the duke lodge?" "In the chateau, on the first floor. His apartments are on the right as you go towards the drawbridge." "And Madame de Mauban?" "Just opposite, on the left. But her door is locked after she has entered."
We should have the keys of the door that led to the all-important rooms. Perhaps they would rush out. If they stood by their orders, then the King's life hung on the swiftness with which we could force the outer door; and I thanked God that not Rupert Hentzau watched, but Detchard.
"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.
Then rushing into the King's cell, they found Detchard lying dead across the dead physician, and the King on his back with his chair by him. And Fritz cried: "He's dead!" and Sapt drove all out of the room except Fritz, and knelt down by the King; and, having learnt more of wounds and the sign of death than I, he soon knew that the King was not dead, nor, if properly attended, would die.
"But what then?" A voice came from outside a voice that spoke perfect English. "Mr. Rassendyll," it said. I made no answer. "We want to talk to you. Will you promise not to shoot till we've done?" "Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Detchard?" I said. "Never mind names." "Then let mine alone." "All right, sire. I've an offer for you." I still had my eye to the chink.
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.
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