“Most satisfactorily,” said I. “Come, shall we turn round? We are almost trenching on my brother’s territory.”
We were, in fact, at the extreme end of the town, just where the hills begin to mount towards the Castle. We cast our eyes up, admiring the massive beauty of the old walls, and we saw a cortège winding slowly down the hill. On it came.
“Let us go back,” said Sapt.
“I should like to stay,” said Flavia; and I reined my horse beside hers.
We could distinguish the approaching party now. There came first two mounted servants in black uniforms, relieved only by a silver badge. These were followed by a car drawn by four horses: on it, under a heavy pall, lay a coffin; behind it rode a man in plain black clothes, carrying his hat in his hand. Sapt uncovered, and we stood waiting, Flavia keeping by me and laying her hand on my arm.
“It is one of the gentlemen killed in the quarrel, I expect,” she said.
I beckoned to a groom.
“Ride and ask whom they escort,” I ordered.
He rode up to the servants, and I saw him pass on to the gentleman who rode behind.
“It’s Rupert of Hentzau,” whispered Sapt.