"Yes. Sapt, he's got a copy of the Queen's letter."
Sapt twirled his moustache.
"I've always said as much," he remarked in tones of satisfaction. He need not have said it; he would have been more than human not to think it.
"Where can you take me to?" asked Rudolf impatiently.
"Any room with a door and a lock to it," answered old Sapt. "I command here, and when I say, 'Stay out'—well, they don't come in."
"Not the King?"
"The King is in bed. Come along," and the Constable set his toe on the lowest step.
"Is there nobody about?" asked Rudolf, catching his arm.
"Bernenstein: but he will keep his back towards us."
"Your discipline is still good, then, Colonel?"
"Pretty well for these days. Your Majesty," grunted Sapt, as he reached the level of the bridge.
Having crossed, they entered the château. The passage was empty save for Bernenstein, whose broad back barred the way from the royal apartments.
"In here," whispered Sapt, laying his hand on the door of the room whence he had come.
