The Secret of a CellarWe were in the King's dressing-room--Fritz von Tarlenheim, Sapt,and I. I flung myself exhausted into an armchair. Sapt lit his pipe. Heuttered no congratulations on the marvellous success of our wild risk, buthis whole bearing was eloquent of satisfaction. The triumph, aided perhapsby good wine, had made a new man of Fritz.

　　"What a day for you to remember!" he cried. "Gad, I'd like to be Kingfor twelve hours myself! But, Rassendyll, you mustn't throw your hearttoo much into the part. I don't wonder Black Michael looked blacker thanever--you and the princess had so much to say to one another.""How beautiful she is!" I exclaimed.

　　"Never mind the woman," growled Sapt. "Are you ready to start?""Yes," said I, with a sigh.

　　It was five o'clock, and at twelve I should be no more than RudolfRassendyll. I remarked on it in a joking tone.

　　"You'll be lucky," observed Sapt grimly, "if you're not the late RudolfRassendyll. By Heaven! I feel my head wobbling on my shoulders everyminute you're in the city. Do you know, friend, that Michael has had newsfrom Zenda? He went into a room alone to read it--and he came outlooking like a man dazed.""I'm ready," said I, this news making me none the more eager to linger.

　　Sapt sat down.

　　"I must write us an order to leave the city. Michael's Governor, youknow, and we must be prepared for hindrances. You must sign the order.""My dear colonel, I've not been bred a forger!"Out of his pocket Sapt produced a piece of paper.

　　"There's the King's signature," he said, "and here," he went on, afteranother search in his pocket, "is some tracing paper. If you can't manage a"Rudolf" in ten minutes, why--I can.""Your education has been more comprehensive than mine," said I.

　　"You write it."And a very tolerable forgery did this versatile hero produce.

　　"Now, Fritz," said he, "the King goes to bed. He is upset. No one is tosee him till nine o'clock tomorrow. You understand-- no one?""I understand," answered Fritz.

　　"Michael may come, and claim immediate audience. You'll answer thatonly princes of the blood are entitled to it.""That'll annoy Michael," laughed Fritz.

　　"You quite understand?" asked Sapt again. "If the door of this room isopened while we're away, you're not to be alive to tell us about it.""I need no schooling, colonel," said Fritz, a trifle haughtily.

　　"Here, wrap yourself in this big cloak," Sapt continued to me, "and puton this flat cap. My orderly rides with me to the hunting-lodge tonight.""There's an obstacle," I observed. "The horse doesn't live that cancarry me forty miles.""Oh, yes, he does--two of him: one here--one at the lodge. Now, areyou ready?""I'm ready," said I.

　　Fritz held out his hand.

　　"In case," said he; and we shook hands heartily.

　　"Damn your sentiment!" growled Sapt. "Come along."He went, not to the door, but to a panel in the wall.

　　"In the old King's time," said he, "I knew this way well."I followed him, and we walked, as I should estimate, near two hundredyards along a narrow passage. Then we came to a stout oak door. Saptunlocked it. We passed through, and found ourselves in a quiet street thatran along the back of the Palace gardens. A man was waiting for us withtwo horses. One was a magnificent bay, up to any weight; the other asturdy brown. Sapt signed to me to mount the bay. Without a word to theman, we mounted and rode away. The town was full of noise andmerriment, but we took secluded ways. My cloak was wrapped over halfmy face; the capacious flat cap hid every lock of my tell-tale hair. BySapt's directions, I crouched on my saddle, and rode with such a roundback as I hope never to exhibit on a horse again. Down a long narrow lanewe went, meeting some wanderers and some roisterers; and, as we rode,  we heard the Cathedral bells still clanging out their welcome to the King.

　　It was half-past six, and still light. At last we came to the city wall and to agate.

　　"Have your weapon ready," whispered Sapt. "We must stop his mouth,if he talks."I put my hand on my revolver. Sapt hailed the doorkeeper. The starsfought for us! A little girl of fourteen tripped out.

　　"Please, sir, father's gone to see the King.""He'd better have stayed here," said Sapt to me, grinning.

　　"But he said I wasn't to open the gate, sir.""Did he, my dear?" said Sapt, dismounting. "Then give me the key."The key was in the child's hand. Sapt gave her a crown.

　　"Here's an order from the King. Show it to your father. Orderly, openthe gate!"I leapt down. Between us we rolled back the great gate, led our horsesout, and closed it again.

　　"I shall be sorry for the doorkeeper if Michael finds out that he wasn'tthere. Now then, lad, for a canter. We mustn't go too fast while we're nearthe town."Once, however, outside the city, we ran little danger, for everybodyelse was inside, merry-making; and as the evening fell we quickened ourpace, my splendid horse bounding along under me as though I had been afeather. It was a fine night, and presently the moon appeared. We talkedlittle on the way, and chiefly about the progress we were making.

　　"I wonder what the duke's despatches told him," said I, once.

　　"Ay, I wonder!" responded Sapt.

　　We stopped for a draught of wine and to bait our horses, losing half anhour thus. I dared not go into the inn, and stayed with the horses in thestable. Then we went ahead again, and had covered some five-and-twentymiles, when Sapt abruptly stopped.

　　"Hark!" he cried.

　　I listened. Away, far behind us, in the still of the evening-- it was justhalf-past nine--we heard the beat of horses' hoofs. The wind blowingstrong behind us, carried the sound. I glanced at Sapt.

　　"Come on!" he cried, and spurred his horse into a gallop. When wenext paused to listen, the hoof-beats were not audible, and we relaxed ourpace. Then we heard them again. Sapt jumped down and laid his ear to theground.

　　"There are two," he said. "They're only a mile behind. Thank God theroad curves in and out, and the wind's our way."We galloped on. We seemed to be holding our own. We had enteredthe outskirts of the forest of Zenda, and the trees, closing in behind us asthe track zigged and zagged, prevented us seeing our pursuers, and themfrom seeing us.

　　Another half-hour brought us to a divide of the road. Sapt drew rein.

　　"To the right is our road," he said. "To the left, to the Castle. Eachabout eight miles. Get down.""But they'll be on us!" I cried.

　　"Get down!" he repeated brusquely; and I obeyed. The wood wasdense up to the very edge of the road. We led our horses into the covert,bound handkerchiefs over their eyes, and stood beside them.

　　"You want to see who they are?" I whispered. "Ay, and where they'regoing," he answered.

　　I saw that his revolver was in his hand.

　　Nearer and nearer came the hoofs. The moon shone out now clear andfull, so that the road was white with it. The ground was hard, and we hadleft no traces.

　　"Here they come!" whispered Sapt.

　　"It's the duke!""I thought so," he answered.

　　It was the duke; and with him a burly fellow whom I knew well, andwho had cause to know me afterwards--Max Holf, brother to Johann thekeeper, and body-servant to his Highness. They were up to us: the dukereined up. I saw Sapt's finger curl lovingly towards the trigger. I believe hewould have given ten years of his life for a shot; and he could have pickedoff Black Michael as easily as I could a barn-door fowl in a farmyard. Ilaid my hand on his arm. He nodded reassuringly: he was always ready tosacrifice inclination to duty.

　　"Which way?" asked Black Michael.

　　"To the Castle, your Highness," urged his companion. "There we shalllearn the truth." For an instant the duke hesitated.

　　"I thought I heard hoofs," said he.

　　"I think not, your Highness.""Why shouldn't we go to the lodge?""I fear a trap. If all is well, why go to the lodge? If not, it's a snare totrap us."Suddenly the duke's horse neighed. In an instant we folded our cloaksclose round our horses' heads, and, holding them thus, covered the dukeand his attendant with our revolvers. If they had found us, they had beendead men, or our prisoners.

　　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 ofwistful 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 fromStrelsau in a rare puzzle."Then we mounted, and rode as fast as our weary horses could lay theirfeet to the ground. For those last eight miles we spoke no more. Our mindswere full of apprehension. "All is well." What did it mean? Was all wellwith the King?

　　At last the lodge came in sight. Spurring our horses to a last gallop, werode up to the gate. All was still and quiet. Not a soul came to meet us. Wedismounted in haste. Suddenly Sapt caught me by the arm.

　　"Look there!" he said, pointing to the ground.

　　I looked down. At my feet lay five or six silk handkerchiefs, torn andslashed and rent. I turned to him questioningly.

　　"They're what I tied the old woman up with," said he. "Fasten thehorses, and come along."The handle of the door turned without resistance. We passed into the room which had been the scene of last night's bout. It was still strewn withthe remnants of our meal and with empty bottles.

　　"Come on," cried Sapt, whose marvellous composure had at lastalmost given way.

　　We rushed down the passage towards the cellars. The door of the coal-cellar stood wide open.

　　"They found the old woman," said I.

　　"You might have known that from the handkerchiefs," he said.

　　Then we came opposite the door of the wine-cellar. It was shut. Itlooked in all respects as it had looked when we left it that morning.""Come, it's all right," said I.

　　A loud oath from Sapt rang out. His face turned pale, and he pointedagain at the floor. From under the door a red stain had spread over thefloor of the passage and dried there. Sapt sank against the opposite wall. Itried the door. It was locked.

　　"Where's Josef?" muttered Sapt.

　　"Where's the King?" I responded.

　　Sapt took out a flask and put it to his lips. I ran back to the dining-room, and seized a heavy poker from the fireplace. In my terror andexcitement I rained blows on the lock of the door, and I fired a cartridgeinto it. It gave way, and the door swung open.

　　"Give me a light," said I; but Sapt still leant against the wall.

　　He was, of course, more moved than I, for he loved his master. Afraidfor himself he was not--no man ever saw him that; but to think what mightlie in that dark cellar was enough to turn any man's face pale. I wentmyself, and took a silver candlestick from the dining-table and struck alight, and, as I returned, I felt the hot wax drip on my naked hand as thecandle swayed to and fro; so that I cannot afford to despise Colonel Saptfor his agitation.

　　I came to the door of the cellar. The red stain turning more and more toa dull brown, stretched inside. I walked two yards into the cellar, and heldthe candle high above my head. I saw the full bins of wine; I saw spiderscrawling on the walls; I saw, too, a couple of empty bottles lying on thefloor; and then, away in the corner, I saw the body of a man, lying flat on his back, with his arms stretched wide, and a crimson gash across histhroat. I walked to him and knelt down beside him, and commended toGod the soul of a faithful man. For it was the body of Josef, the littleservant, slain in guarding the King.

　　I felt a hand on my shoulders, and, turning, saw Sapt, eyes glaring andterror-struck, beside me.

　　"The King? My God! the King?" he whispered hoarsely.

　　I threw the candle's gleam over every inch of the cellar.

　　"The King is not here," said I.