“Yes, as quick as your legs will carry you. One thing more. Carry this note to madame—oh, it’s in French, you can’t read it—and charge her, for the sake of all our lives, not to fail in what it orders.”
The man was trembling but I had to trust to what he had of courage and to what he had of honesty. I dared not wait, for I feared that the King would die.
When the fellow was gone, I called Sapt and Fritz to me, and unfolded the plan that I had formed. Sapt shook his head over it.
“Why can’t you wait?” he asked.
“The King may die.”
“Michael will be forced to act before that.”
“Then,” said I, “the King may live.”
“Well, and if he does?”
“For a fortnight?” I asked simply.
And Sapt bit his moustache.