For answer the officer held out the message.
Karyl puckered his brows over the intricacies of the code and handed it back.
"Be good enough to construe it," he commanded.
"The King," said Von Ritz, "is ill. His Majesty wishes to instruct you in certain matters before—" He broke off with something like a catch in his voice, then continued calmly. "Recovery is despaired of, though death may not be immediate."
Karyl turned away, not wishing the soldier to see the tears he felt in his eyes, and Von Ritz discreetly withdrew as far as the door. There he paused, and after a moment's hesitation inquired:
"Her Highness goes to Maritzburg—to her father's Court—I presume?"
With his back still turned, the Prince nodded. "Why?" he demanded.
"Because—the message holds no hope—" Von Ritz paused, then added quietly "—and if Your Highness is called upon to mount the throne, it is advisable to hasten the marriage."
He backed out, closing the door behind him.
In her own cabin the girl had bolted the door. At the small desk of her suite-de-luxe she sat with her head on her crossed arms. For a half-hour she remained motionless.