For my part, if a man must needs be a knave I would have him a debonair knave, and I liked Rupert Hentzau better than his long-faced, close-eyed companions. It makes your sin no worse, as I conceive, to do it à la mode and stylishly.
Now it was a curious thing that on this first night, instead of eating the excellent dinner my cooks had prepared for me, I must needs leave my gentlemen to eat it alone, under Sapt's presiding care, and ride myself with Fritz to the town of Zenda and a certain little inn that I knew of. There was little danger in the excursion; the evenings were long and light, and the road this side of Zenda, well frequented. So off we rode, with a groom behind us. I muffled myself up in a big cloak.
"Fritz," said I as we entered the town, "there's an uncommonly pretty girl at this inn."
"How do you know?" he asked.
"Because I've been there," said I.
"Since——" he began.
"No. Before," said I.
"But they'll recognize you?"
