“I can listen to you now,” I said.
“I see their game,” said he. “One or other of them, Rupert or this Rischenheim, will try to get to the king with the letter.”
I sprang to my feet.
“They mustn’t,” I cried, and I reeled back into my chair, with a feeling as if a red-hot poker were being run through my head.
“Much you can do to stop ‘em, old fellow,” smiled Rudolf, pausing to press my hand as he went by. “They won’t trust the post, you know. One will go. Now which?” He stood facing me with a thoughtful frown on his face.
I did not know, but I thought that Rischenheim would go. It was a great risk for Rupert to trust himself in the kingdom, and he knew that the king would not easily be persuaded to receive him, however startling might be the business he professed as his errand. On the other hand, nothing was known against Rischenheim, while his rank would secure, and indeed entitle, him to an early audience. Therefore I concluded that Rischenheim would go with the letter, or, if Rupert would not let that out of his possession, with the news of the letter.
“Or a copy,” suggested Rassendyll. “Well, Rischenheim or Rupert will be on his way by to-morrow morning, or is on his way to-night.”
Again I tried to rise, for I was on fire to prevent the fatal consequences of my stupidity. Rudolf thrust me back in my chair, saying, “No, no.” Then he sat down at the table and took up the telegraph forms.
“You and Sapt arranged a cipher, I suppose?” he asked.
“Yes. You write the message, and I’ll put it into the cipher.”