“Yes, the miserable rascals always run away as soon as they smell gunpowder,” said Thugut, indignantly. “And you, Mr. Wenzel?”
“I was wounded and had fainted. My comrades carried me out of the house.”
“And the papers?” asked Thugut. “You did not take them?”
“Your excellency, General Bernadotte and the whole retinue of the embassy were in the room in which the ambassador keeps his papers. I would have penetrated into it with my friends if the bullet had not shattered my arm and stretched me down senseless.”
“Yes, indeed, you became entirely senseless,” said Thugut, harshly, “for you even forgot that I only promised to release you provided you should bring the papers of the French ambassador.”
“Your excellency,” shouted Wenzel, in dismay, “I—”
“Silence!” commanded Thugut, in a stern tone; “who has allowed you to speak without being asked?”
At this moment another hasty rap at the door was heard, and Heinle’s arm appeared again in the door.
“Another dispatch from the French ambassador?” asked Thugut.
“No, your excellency, a dispatch from his majesty the emperor.”