Ompertz looked at him in wonder and a little admiration. “Well,” he muttered as Ludovic went out, “that is either the bravest fellow or the biggest fool I ever met in all my wanderings. They talk of fool’s luck; he has had enough of that to prove a regular skinful of folly.”
Ludovic took his way to the Chancellor’s. As he went along the principal thoroughfare of the city a horseman came clattering down it, meeting him; a man who, by the singularity of his dress as well as by a certain official importance in his manner and pace, stood out from the rest of the traffic. As the rider drew near, Ludovic turned suddenly into a shop he happened to be passing. It was done evidently from an impulse, as though to avoid recognition. He made a trifling purchase almost at hap-hazard, and then pursued his way. He had not gone far when he met his friend Anton de Gayl, who came up with a face of concern.
“You saw that fellow?” von Bertheim asked.
“Ursleur? Yes; and what is more, have spoken to him. He brings serious news.”
“Ah! The King——?”
“Is dead.”
“Yours prepared me for that. Poor uncle! I am sorry, though we never quite agreed. I wish I had been there.”
“Yes,” Anton replied gravely. “It would have been well, Prince, for more reasons than one.”
“What do you mean, Anton?” the other demanded quickly, noticing the significance in his tone.
“Ursleur has brought Rollmar news which must be bad for you. It seems that your cousin Ferdinand has taken advantage of your absence at this critical moment to declare that you are dead. He has by this probably got himself proclaimed King, seeing that he is the next heir after you.”