“That’s not impossible, though I have had nearly enough riding.”
Rudolf fixed his eyes firmly on Sapt’s.
“You see,” he said, “the king reaches his hunting-lodge early in the morning.”
“I follow you, sire.”
“And what happens there, Sapt? Does he shoot himself accidentally?”
“Well, that happens sometimes.”
“Or does an assassin kill him?”
“Eh, but you’ve made the best assassin unavailable.”
Even at this moment I could not help smiling at the old fellow’s surly wit and Rudolf’s amused tolerance of it.
“Or does his faithful attendant, Herbert, shoot him?”