“Meanwhile, my dear count, I shall take it as a personal favor if you’ll move out of the doorway.”
“Do I incommode you by standing here?” answered the count.
“Infinitely, my lord,” answered Bernenstein stiffly.
“Hallo, Bernenstein, what’s the matter?” cried Anton, seeing that their tones and glances had grown angry. The crowd also had noticed the raised voices and hostile manner of the disputants, and began to gather round in a more compact group.
Suddenly a voice came from inside the hall: it was distinct and loud, yet not without a touch of huskiness. The sound of it hushed the rising quarrel and silenced the crowd into expectant stillness. Bernenstein looked aghast, Rischenheim nervous yet triumphant, Anton amused and gratified.
“The king!” he cried, and burst into a laugh. “You’ve drawn him, Rischenheim!”
The crowd heard his boyish exclamation and raised a cheer. Helsing turned, as though to rebuke them. Had not the king himself desired secrecy? Yes, but he who spoke as the king chose any risk sooner than let Rischenheim go back and warn Rupert of his presence.
“Is that the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim?” called Rudolf from within. “If so, let him enter and then shut the door.”
There was something in his tone that alarmed Rischenheim. He started back on the step. But Bernenstein caught him by the arm.
“Since you wish to come in, come in,” he said with a grim smile.