tice and improved his skill since the days when he came first to Strelsau.
"As you will," said he. "Provided we settle the matter here and now, the manner is the same to me."
"Put your revolver on the table, then, and I'll lay mine by the side of it."
"I beg your pardon," smiled Rudolf, "but you must lay yours down first."
"I'm to trust you, it seems, but you won't trust me!"
"Precisely. You know you can trust me; you know that I can't trust you."
A sudden flush swept over Rupert of Hentzau's face. There were moments when he saw, in the mirror of another's face or words, the estimation in which honorable men held him; and I believe that he hated Mr. Rassendyll most fiercely, not for thwarting his enterprise, but because he had more power than any other man to show him that picture. His brows knit in a frown, and his lips shut tight.
"Aye, but though you won't fire, you'll destroy the letter," he sneered. "I know your fine distinctions."
"Again I beg your pardon. You know very well that, although all Strelsau were at the door, I wouldn't touch the letter."
With an angry muttered oath Rupert flung his revolver on the table. Rudolf came forward and laid his by it. Then he took up both, and, crossing to the mantelpiece, laid them there; between them he placed the queen's letter. A bright blaze burnt in the grate; it needed but the slightest motion of his hand to set the letter beyond all danger. But he placed it carefully on the mantelpiece, and, with a slight smile on his face, turned to Rupert, saying: "Now shall we resume the bout that Fritz von Tarlenheim interrupted in the forest of Zenda?"
All this while they had been speaking in subdued accents, resolution in one, anger in the other, keeping the voice in an even, deliberate lowness. The girl outside caught only a word here and there; but now suddenly the flash of steel gleamed on her eyes through the crevice of the hinge. She gave a sudden gasp, and, pressing her face closer to the opening, listened and looked. For Rupert of Hentzau had taken the swords from their case and put them on the table. With a slight bow Rudolf took one, and the two assumed their positions. Suddenly Rupert lowered his point. The frown vanished from his face, and he spoke in his usual bantering tone.
"By the way," said he, "perhaps we're letting our feelings run away with us. Have you more of a mind now to be King of Ruritania? If so, I'm ready to be the most faithful of your subjects."
"You honor me, Count."
"Provided, of course, that I'm one of the most favored and the richest. Come, come, the fool is dead now; he lived like a fool and he died like a fool. The place is empty. A dead man has no rights and suffers no wrongs. Damn it, that's good law, isn't it? Take his place and his wife. You can pay my price then. Or are you still so virtuous? Faith, how little some men learn from the world they live in! If I had your chance"
"Come, Count, you'd be the last man to trust Rupert of Hentzau."
"If I made it worth his while?"
"But he's a man who would take the pay and betray his associate."
Again Rupert flushed. When he next spoke his voice was hard, cold, and low.
"By God, Rudolf Rassendyll," said he, "I'll kill you here and now."
"I ask no better than that you should try."
"And then I'll proclaim that woman for what she is in all Strelsau." A smile came on his lips as he watched Rudolf's face.
"Guard yourself, my lord," said Mr. Rassendyll.
"Aye, for no better than. There, man, I'm ready for you." For Rudolf's blade had touched his in warning.
The steel jangled. The girl's pale face was at the crevice of the hinge. She heard the blades cross again and again. Then one would run up the other with a sharp, grating slither. At times she caught a glimpse of a figure in quick forward lunge or rapid wary withdrawal. Her brain was almost paralyzed. Ignorant of the mind and heart of young Rupert, she could not conceive that he tried to kill the king. Yet the words she had caught sounded like the words of men quarreling, and she could not persuade herself that the gentlemen fenced only for pastime. They were not speaking now; but she heard their hard breathing and the movement of their unresting feet on the bare boards of the floor. Then a cry rang out, clear and merry with the fierce hope of triumph:
"Nearly! nearly!"
She knew the voice for Rupert of Hentzau's, and it was the king who answered calmly, "Nearly isn't quite."
Again she listened. They seemed to have paused for a moment, for there was no
