to the bridge, he sped across. Then stepping on one side and turning his face to the wall, he descended the steps that gave foothold down to the ledge running six or eight inches above the water. He also was now in the triangle of deep darkness, yet he knew that a man was there, who stood straight and tall, rising above his own height. And he felt his hand caught in a sudden grip. Rudolf Rassendyll was there, in his wet drawers and socks.
"Is it you?" he whispered.
"Yes," answered Rudolf: "I swam round from the other side and got here. Then I threw in a bit of mortar, but I wasn't sure I'd roused you, and I didn't dare shout, so I followed it myself. Lay hold of me a minute while I get on my breeches: I didn't want to get wet, so I carried my clothes in a bundle. Hold me tight—it's slippery."
"In God's name, what brings you here?" whispered Sapt, catching Rudolf by the arm as he was directed.
"The Queen's service. When does Rischenheim come?"
"To-morrow at eight."
"The deuce! That's earlier than I thought. And the King?"
"Is here and determined to see him. It's impossible to move him from it."
There was a moment's silence; Rudolf
