"Shut the door," she whispered.
I obeyed and turned the light of my lantern on her. She was in evening
dress, arrayed very sumptuously, and her dark striking beauty was
marvellously displayed in the glare of the bull's-eye. The summer-house
was a bare little room, furnished only with a couple of chairs and a
small iron table, such as one sees in a tea garden or an open-air cafe.
"Don't talk," she said. "We've no time. Listen! I know you, Mr.
Rassendyll. I wrote that letter at the duke's orders."
"So I thought," said I.
"In twenty minutes three men will be here to kill you."
"Three--the three?"
"Yes. You must be gone by then. If not, tonight you'll be killed--"
"Or they will."
"Listen, listen! When you're killed, your body will be taken to a low
quarter of the town. It will be found there. Michael will at once
arrest all your friends--Colonel Sapt and Captain von Tarlenheim
first--proclaim a state of siege in Strelsau, and send a messenger to
Zenda. The other three will murder the King in the Castle, and the duke
will proclaim either himself or the princess--himself, if he is strong
enough. Anyhow, he'll marry her, and become king in fact, and soon in
name. Do you see?"
"It's a pretty plot. But why, madame, do you--?"
"Say I'm a Christian--or say I'm jealous.
Pages:
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96