“What’s that?”
“The King’s at the Castle of Zenda,” said he.
“How do you know?”
“Because the other half of Michael’s Six are there. I had enquiries made, and they’re all there—Lauengram, Krafstein, and young Rupert Hentzau: three rogues, too, on my honour, as fine as live in Ruritania.”
“Well?”
“Well, Fritz wants you to march to the Castle with horse, foot, and artillery.”
“And drag the moat?” I asked.
“That would be about it,” grinned Sapt, “and we shouldn’t find the King’s body then.”
“You think it’s certain he’s there?”
“Very probable. Besides the fact of those three being there, the drawbridge is kept up, and no one goes in without an order from young Hentzau or Black Michael himself. We must tie Fritz up.”