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They passed through the door, and Bernenstein closed it with a backward push of his hand. But at this moment Rischenheim, goaded to fury and desperate at the trick played on him seeing, moreover, that he had now only one man to deal with made a sudden rush at the door. He reached it, and his hand was on the door-knob. But Sapt was upon him, and Sapt's revolver was at his ear.
We rode in by the same way as we had come out the evening before, all four of us the men and the horses wearied and jaded. The streets were even quieter than when we had gone: everyone was sleeping off last night's revelry, and we met hardly a soul till we reached the little gate of the Palace. There Sapt's old groom was waiting for us. "Is all well, sir?" he asked.
Spacious modern boulevards and residential quarters surround and embrace the narrow, tortuous, and picturesque streets of the original town. These social and local divisions corresponded, as I knew from Sapt's information, to another division more important to me. The New Town was for the King; but to the Old Town Michael of Strelsau was a hope, a hero, and a darling.
"You could sleep at the hunting-lodge, sire, and ride back to receive the count next morning." "I'm anxious to see him as soon as may be." Then he looked up at Sapt with a sick man's quick suspicion. "Why shouldn't I see him?" he asked. "It's a pity to miss the boar, sire," was all Sapt's plea. The king made light of it. "Curse the boar!" said he.
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