“A man likes to have some notice taken of what he has done,” Rupert complained. “However, I can get them lowered when I will.”
“By telling your news? Would that be good for yourself?”
“Forgive me—not that way. Since the king has two lives, it is but in nature that he should have two deaths.”
“And when he has undergone the second?”
“I shall live at peace, my friend, on a certain source of income that I possess.” He tapped his breast-pocket with a slight, defiant laugh. “In these days,” said he, “even queens must be careful about their letters. We live in moral times.”
“You don’t share the responsibility for it,” said Rudolf, smiling.
“I make my little protest. But what’s your business, play-actor? For I think you’re rather tiresome.”
Rudolf grew grave. He advanced towards the table, and spoke in low, serious tones.
“My lord, you’re alone in this matter now. Rischenheim is a prisoner; your rogue Bauer I encountered last night and broke his head.”
“Ah, you did?”