“See!” said the King.
He motioned to Lord Ashley, who raised the silken coverlid. Kearns bent eagerly forward and, despite the royal presence, a sharp, low whistle of astonishment escaped him.
Stretched at full length upon the floor, his limbs rigid in death, the thick blood oozing from nostrils and mouth, lay the King’s great mastiff, with a bullet through his heart.
Kearns stood gazing intently at the corpse; then raised his eyes to glance about him for possible clews as to the quarter whence death had been dealt. But the King again drew his attention.
“Read!” he said, extending to Kearns the scroll he held in his hand.
Kearns took the paper, which was thick and heavy and was rolled in the form of a cylinder. Unfolding it he read:
The bullet which pierces your dog’s heart might as readily have reached yours. Heed the warnings given while it is yet time. The hour fast approaches.
Kearns slowly read the document, refolded it carefully and, still holding it in his hand, addressed the King.
“I’d like to keep this,” he said, “for further examination. I can’t tell but it may contain a clew.”
“As you will,” answered the King abstractedly. “You note what is said: As the bullet pierced the dog’s heart, so might it have pierced ours. And it’s true,” he added with a shudder, “horribly true! As the late Czar of Russia, Zoldau the First, foully perished, so——”