“You are quite sure that there was only one?” I asked, in an ordinary tone, as if merely needing a repetition of his statement.
“I could not be mistaken. I swear it. I would not lie to your Majesty in such a matter,” he asserted eagerly.
“Very well,” I said, and rang the bell. “I have yet to decide what to do with you for the present.”
When the servant came, I told him to wait and guard Drexel until my return; and going out, I asked for Ivan, and inquired whether he had caught the man he had gone after. Unfortunately he had not. Not a trace of him had he seen, but he had heard the sound of wheels, and concluded that the man had dashed for the vehicle in which the three had come, and had galloped off.
This seemed to lend colour to Drexel’s statement; but I had been so sure of his lying that I went back, resolved to put him to a pretty severe ordeal.
I sent the servant out of the room, and then looked sternly at the prisoner, who was staring eagerly at me as if to read his fate in my face.
“I have made up my mind in regard to you. If you had told me the truth in answer to my last question, I might have spared you. But you lied—and that lie will cost you your life.”
I drew my revolver again, and made pretence to examine the cartridge.
“You led these men here in search of me. I know that. I saw you when you first entered the grounds here, and watched you. For aiding an attempt on my life the penalty is death, and rightly so. I intend to inflict the penalty myself. Stand up;” and I levelled the pistol at his face.
Stand up he could not; he lacked the actual physical strength. He sat grasping the arms of the chair, staring at me, his eyes wide open and mouth agape, his lips quivering and his colour dull grey.