Rupert of Hentzau (Dystopian Novel). Anthony Hope

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СКАЧАТЬ were one or two people in the hall, but Mr. Rassendyll took no heed of them. He bore me quickly upstairs and into his sitting-room. There he set me down in an arm-chair, and stood opposite to me. He was smiling, but anxiety was awake in his eyes.

      “I’ve lost it,” I said again, looking up at him pitifully enough.

      “That’s all right,” said he, nodding. “Will you wait, or can you tell me?”

      “Yes, but give me some brandy,” said I.

      Rudolf gave me a little brandy mixed in a great deal of water, and then I made shift to tell him. Though faint, I was not confused, and I gave my story in brief, hurried, yet sufficient words. He made no sign till I mentioned the letter. Then his face changed.

      “A letter, too?” he exclaimed, in a strange mixture of increased apprehension and unlooked-for joy.

      “Yes, a letter, too; she wrote a letter, and I carried that as well as the box. I’ve lost them both, Rudolf. God help me, I’ve lost them both! Rupert has the letter too!” I think I must have been weak and unmanned from the blow I had received, for my composure broke down here. Rudolf stepped up to me and wrung me by the hand. I mastered myself again and looked in his face as he stood in thought, his hand caressing the strong curve of his clean-shaven chin. Now that I was with him again it seemed as though I had never lost him; as though we were still together in Strelsau or at Tarlenheim, planning how to hoodwink Black Michael, send Rupert of Hentzau to his own place, and bring the king back to his throne. For Mr. Rassendyll, as he stood before me now, was changed in nothing since our last meeting, nor indeed since he reigned in Strelsau, save that a few flecks of gray spotted his hair.

      My battered head ached most consumedly. Mr. Rassendyll rang the bell twice, and a short, thickset man of middle age appeared; he wore a suit of tweed, and had the air of smartness and respectability which marks English servants.

      “James,” said Rudolf, “this gentleman has hurt his head. Look after it.”

      James went out. In a few minutes he was back, with water, basin, towels, and bandages. Bending over me, he began to wash and tend my wound very deftly. Rudolf was walking up and down.

      “Done the head, James?” he asked, after a few moments.

      “Yes, sir,” answered the servant, gathering together his appliances.

      “Telegraph forms, then.”

      James went out, and was back with the forms in an instant.

      “Be ready when I ring,” said Rudolf. And he added, turning to me, “Any easier, Fritz?”

      “I can listen to you now,” I said.

      “I see their game,” said he. “One or other of them, Rupert or this Rischenheim, will try to get to the king with the letter.”

      I sprang to my feet.

      “They mustn’t,” I cried, and I reeled back into my chair, with a feeling as if a red-hot poker were being run through my head.

      “Much you can do to stop ’em, old fellow,” smiled Rudolf, pausing to press my hand as he went by. “They won’t trust the post, you know. One will go. Now which?” He stood facing me with a thoughtful frown on his face.

      I did not know, but I thought that Rischenheim would go. It was a great risk for Rupert to trust himself in the kingdom, and he knew that the king would not easily be persuaded to receive him, however startling might be the business he professed as his errand. On the other hand, nothing was known against Rischenheim, while his rank would secure, and indeed entitle, him to an early audience. Therefore I concluded that Rischenheim would go with the letter, or, if Rupert would not let that out of his possession, with the news of the letter.

      “Or a copy,” suggested Rassendyll. “Well, Rischenheim or Rupert will be on his way by tomorrow morning, or is on his way to-night.”

      Again I tried to rise, for I was on fire to prevent the fatal consequences of my stupidity. Rudolf thrust me back in my chair, saying, “No, no.” Then he sat down at the table and took up the telegraph forms.

      “You and Sapt arranged a cipher, I suppose?” he asked.

      “Yes. You write the message, and I’ll put it into the cipher.”

      “This is what I’ve written: ‘Document lost. Let nobody see him if possible. Wire who asks.’ I don’t like to make it plainer: most ciphers can be read, you know.”

      “Not ours,” said I.

      “Well, but will that do?” asked Rudolf, with an unconvinced smile.

      “Yes, I think he’ll understand it.” And I wrote it again in the cipher; it was as much as I could do to hold the pen.

      The bell was rung again, and James appeared in an instant.

      “Send this,” said Rudolf.

      “The offices will be shut, sir.”

      “James, James!”

      “Very good, sir; but it may take an hour to get one open.”

      “I’ll give you half an hour. Have you money?”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “And now,” added Rudolf, turning to me, “you’d better go to bed.”

      I do not recollect what I answered, for my faintness came upon me again, and I remember only that Rudolf himself helped me into his own bed. I slept, but I do not think he so much as lay down on the sofa; chancing to awake once or twice, I heard him pacing about. But towards morning I slept heavily, and I did not know what he was doing then. At eight o’clock James entered and roused me. He said that a doctor was to be at the hotel in half an hour, but that Mr. Rassendyll would like to see me for a few minutes if I felt equal to business. I begged James to summon his master at once. Whether I were equal or unequal, the business had to be done.

      Rudolf came, calm and serene. Danger and the need for exertion acted on him like a draught of good wine on a seasoned drinker. He was not only himself, but more than himself: his excellences enhanced, the indolence that marred him in quiet hours sloughed off. But today there was something more; I can only describe it as a kind of radiance. I have seen it on the faces of young sparks when the lady they love comes through the ball-room door, and I have seen it glow more softly in a girl’s eyes when some fellow who seemed to me nothing out of the ordinary asked her for a dance. That strange gleam was on Rudolf’s face as he stood by my bedside. I dare say it used to be on mine when I went courting.

      “Fritz, old friend,” said he, “there’s an answer from Sapt. I’ll lay the telegraph offices were stirred in Zenda as well as James stirred them here in Wintenberg! And what do you think? Rischenheim asked for an audience before he left Strelsau.”

      I raised myself on my elbow in the bed.

      “You understand?” he went on. “He left on Monday. To-day’s Wednesday. The king has granted him an audience at four on Friday. Well, then —”

      “They counted on success,” I cried, “and Rischenheim takes the letter!”

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