“By no means. And, sergeant—?”
“Your Majesty?”
“Sir, you mean.”
“Yes, sir.”
“A zealous officer, sergeant, can make no greater mistake than to take for the king a gentleman who is not the king. It might injure his prospects, since the king, not being here, mightn’t wish to have it supposed that he was here. Do you follow me, sergeant?”
The man said nothing, but stared hard. After a moment Rudolf continued:
“In such a case,” said he, “a discreet officer would not trouble the gentleman any more, and would be very careful not to mention that he had made such a silly mistake. Indeed, if questioned, he would answer without hesitation that he hadn’t seen anybody even like the king, much less the king himself.”
A doubtful, puzzled little smile spread under the sergeant’s moustache.
“You see, the king is not even in Strelsau,” said Rudolf.
“Not in Strelsau, sir?”