“Why, yes, sir, so far as we know. Since, then, Mr. Rassendyll is alive and the king is dead, I was thinking that it was a great pity, sir, that my master can’t take his place and be king.” James looked across at the constable with an air of a man who offers a respectful suggestion.
“A remarkable thought, James,” observed the constable with a grin.
“You don’t agree with me, sir?” asked James deprecatingly.
“I don’t say that it isn’t a pity, for Rudolf makes a good king. But you see it’s impossible, isn’t it?”
James nursed his knee between his hands, and his pipe, which he had replaced, stuck out of one corner of his mouth.
“When you say impossible, sir,” he remarked deferentially, “I venture to differ from you.”
“You do? Come, we’re at leisure. Let’s hear how it would be possible.”
“My master is in Strelsau, sir,” began James.
“Well, most likely.”
“I’m sure of it, sir. If he’s been there, he will be taken for the king.”