“You will die suddenly some day,” said Maurice.
Beauvais shrugged, and departed.
It was a dreary long day for the prisoner, who saw no one but his jailers. He wondered what time they would start for Brunnstadt. He had never seen Brunnstadt. He hoped the city would interest him. Was he to be disposed of on the road? No, that would scarcely be; there were too many witnesses. In the city prison, then; that was possible. The outlook was not rose-colored. He set to work to challenge each of his jailers, but this did not serve. At five o'clock the bluff old Colonel Mollendorf came in. He dismissed the troopers, who were glad enough to be relieved.
“I'll be responsible for the prisoner from now on,” he said. As soon as he and Maurice were alone he propped his chin and contemplated the sullen face of the prisoner. “Well, my son, I am positive that you have been accused somewhat hastily, but that's the way women have, jumping at conclusions before they read the preface. But you must give Madame credit for being honest in the matter, as well as the others. Beauvais is positive that the move of the archbishop is due to your selling out to him. Come, tell me the story. If you wish, I'll promise not to repeat it. Madame is determined to lock you up in any event.”
There was something so likable about the old warrior that Maurice relented.
“There was nothing in the gun-barrels,” he said. “Some one had entered that room before me. I thought at first that Beauvais had them; but he is the last man in the world to dispose of them to the prelate. But has the archbishop got them? I wish I knew. That's all there is to the story.”
“And her Royal Highness's dog?” slyly.
“What! Did you hear about that?” Maurice flushed.
“There is little going on in Bleiberg that we don't hear about. The princess is charming. Poor girl!”
“Madame's victory will have a strange odor. Can she not let the king die in peace?”