It was just eight.
"I wonder if they've gone to look for us," I said.
"I hope they won't find the King," said Fritz nervously, and this time
it was Sapt who shrugged his shoulders.
The train travelled well, and at half-past nine, looking out of the
window, I saw the towers and spires of a great city.
"Your capital, my liege," grinned old Sapt, with a wave of his hand,
and, leaning forward, he laid his finger on my pulse. "A little too
quick," said he, in his grumbling tone.
"I'm not made of stone!" I exclaimed.
"You'll do," said he, with a nod. "We must say Fritz here has caught the
ague. Drain your flask, Fritz, for heaven's sake, boy!"
Fritz did as he was bid.
"We're an hour early," said Sapt. "We'll send word forward for your
Majesty's arrival, for there'll be no one here to meet us yet. And
meanwhile--"
"Meanwhile," said I, "the King'll be hanged if he doesn't have some
breakfast."
Old Sapt chuckled, and held out his hand.
"You're an Elphberg, every inch of you," said he. Then he paused, and
looking at us, said quietly, "God send we may be alive tonight!"
"Amen!" said Fritz von Tarlenheim.
The train stopped. Fritz and Sapt leapt out, uncovered, and held the
door for me. I choked down a lump that rose in my throat, settled my
helmet firmly on my head, and (I'm not ashamed to say it) breathed a
short prayer to God.
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