Michael waited a moment longer. Then he cried:
"To Zenda, then!" and setting spurs to his horse, galloped on.
Sapt raised his weapon after him, and there was such an expression of wistful regret on his face that I had much ado not to burst out laughing.
For ten minutes we stayed where we were.
"You see," said Sapt, "they've sent him news that all is well."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"God knows," said Sapt, frowning heavily. "But it's brought him from Strelsau in a rare puzzle."
Then we mounted, and rode fast as our weary horses could lay their feet to the ground. For those last eight miles we spoke no more. Our minds were full of apprehension. "All is well." What did it mean? Was all well with the king?
At last the lodge came in sight. Spurring our horses to a last gallop, we rode up to the gate. All was still and quiet. Not a soul came to meet us.
