“Why, no, he’s at Zenda.”
“Ah! At Zenda, sir?”
“Certainly. It is therefore impossible—physically impossible—that he should be here.”
The fellow was convinced that he understood now.
“It’s certainly impossible, sir,” said he, smiling more broadly.
“Absolutely. And therefore impossible also that you should have seen him.” With this Rudolf took a gold piece from his pocket and handed it to the sergeant. The fellow took it with something like a wink.
“As for you, you’ve searched here and found nobody,” concluded Mr. Rassendyll. “So hadn’t you better at once search somewhere else?
“Without doubt, sir,” said the sergeant, and with the most deferential salute, and another confidential smile, he turned and rode back by the way he had come. No doubt he wished that he could meet a gentleman who was—not the king—every morning of his life. It hardly need be said that all idea of connecting the gentleman with the crime committed in the Konigstrasse had vanished from his mind. Thus Rudolf won freedom from the man’s interference, but at a dangerous cost—how dangerous he did not know. It was indeed most impossible that the king could be in Strelsau.
He lost no time now in turning his steps towards his refuge. It was past five o’clock, day came quickly, and the streets began to be peopled by men and women on their way to open stalls or to buy in the market. Rudolf crossed the square at a rapid walk, for he was afraid of the soldiers who were gathering for early duty opposite to the barracks. Fortunately he passed by them unobserved, and gained the comparative seclusion of the street in which my house stands, without encountering any further difficulties. In truth, he was almost in safety; but bad luck was now to have its turn. When Mr. Rassendyll was no more than fifty yards from my door, a carriage suddenly drove up and stopped a few paces in front of him. The footman sprang down and opened the door. Two ladies got out; they were dressed in evening costume, and were returning from a ball. One was middle-aged, the other young and rather pretty. They stood for a moment on the pavement, the younger saying:
“Isn’t it pleasant, mother? I wish I could always be up at five o’clock.”