“You are a gentleman, Herr Bennett,” said the count cordially, “in spite of the fact that you go to extremes.”
“Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes,” muttered Bennett coldly, not accepting the count’s hand. “You must acknowledge, sir, that by going to extremes I took the only course open to me at the moment.”
Count von Reibach smiled grimly. “The fact is, Herr Bennett, that we had formed no diabolical design, the baron and myself. For certain reasons—reasons of state, as our unhappy king would say—we felt that your presence here was inopportune, and we had decided to—to——”
“Assassinate me,” remarked Bennett curtly.
“Not at all. You do us grave injustice, I assure you. It is just possible that, had you not checked our impetuosity at the right moment, we might have imprisoned you in an empty wine-cask somewhere in the cellar, but we had no wish to take your life. The Count von Reibach and Baron Wollenstein are not cut-throats, Herr Bennett. And let me assure you we appreciate your generosity in refusing to accuse us to the princess.”
The Baron Wollenstein had listened sullenly to his comrade’s rather lame apology. He gazed with stubborn enmity at Bennett, and then said to the count:
“Come, von Reibach, let’s get some sleep. The fact is. I’m ausgespielt. As for this—gentleman, let me assure him that we have no further intention of interfering with his liberty. Come, count.”
The two courtiers retired toward a dark corner of the room, not far from the entrance to Princess Hilda’s apartment. Here they stretched themselves upon a dilapidated piece of furniture that had once served as a regal couch for a reigning Schwartzburger. Bennett could hear their guttural voices as they talked together in low tones for a time. Then silence, broken only by the king’s labored breathing and the occasional snores of the exhausted courtiers, reigned in the old lumber-room, made barely habitable by Cousin Fritz’s efforts.
The Princess Hilda, upon her return to the inner room, had thrown herself fully dressed upon the improvised bed prepared for her by the dwarf, and had vainly attempted to forget her woes in sleep. The horrors of her situation forced themselves persistently upon her mind and the events of a long and dreadful day allied themselves in opposition to peaceful slumber. It seemed an age since she had stood beside King Rudolph in the morning and had attempted to impress him with the seriousness of the crisis that confronted them. The downfall of her uncle, and their undignified flight, had occurred with such suddenness that she had not yet been able to grasp their full significance. Then a strange, inexplicable feeling stole over her and she realized, with a sensation of shame, that in this dark hour she took comfort in the presence of Herr Bennett. Annoyed by this discovery, she turned restlessly upon her pillow and again attempted to forget her woes and weariness in sleep.
The lower regions of the castle of the Schwartzburgers were not wholly under the control of Cousin Fritz. His sway was disputed by the rats, liberty-loving creatures having no respect for the rights of property nor reverence for royalty. A rat-hole, running clear through the wall, opened like a speaking-tube just where the shapely ear of the Princess Hilda rested as she lay quiet, fervently praying for sleep. Suddenly her wandering thoughts were recalled from the borderland of oblivion by the stern realities of her surroundings. She heard distinctly the guttural voice of Baron Wollenstein as he said to Count von Reibach: