“Yes,” said Bernenstein simply. Sapt had chosen well, and the young officer made nothing of the peril and ruin that her Majesty’s service might ask of him.
A restless movement and a weary sigh from Rischenheim attracted their attention. He had strained his ears to listen till his head ached, but the talkers had been careful, and he had heard nothing that threw light on their deliberations. He had now given up his vain attempt, and sat in listless inattention, sunk in an apathy.
“I don’t think he’ll give you much trouble,” whispered Sapt to Bernenstein, with a jerk of his thumb towards the captive.
“Act as if he were likely to give you much,” urged Rudolf, laying his hand on the lieutenant’s arm.
“Yes, that’s a wise man’s advice,” nodded the constable approvingly. “We were well governed, Lieutenant, when this Rudolf was king.”
“Wasn’t I also his loyal subject?” asked young Bernenstein.
“Yes, wounded in my service,” added Rudolf; for he remembered how the boy—he was little more then—had been fired upon in the park of Tarlenheim, being taken for Mr. Rassendyll himself.
Thus their plans were laid. If they could defeat Rupert, they would have Rischenheim at their mercy. If they could keep Rischenheim out of the way while they used his name in their trick, they had a strong chance of deluding and killing Rupert. Yes, of killing him; for that and nothing less was their purpose, as the constable of Zenda himself has told me.
“We would have stood on no ceremony,” he said. “The queen’s honor was at stake, and the fellow himself an assassin.”
Bernenstein rose and went out. He was gone about half an hour, being employed in despatching the telegrams to Strelsau. Rudolf and Sapt used the interval to explain to Rischenheim what they proposed to do with him. They asked no pledge, and he offered none. He heard what they said with a dulled uninterested air. When asked if he would go without resistance, he laughed a bitter laugh. “How can I resist?” he asked. “I should have a bullet through my head.”