With you gone, the old game that
we stopped would be played--or he'd have a shot at it."
"I can take care of myself."
"De Gautet, Bersonin, and Detchard are in Strelsau; and any one of
them, lad, would cut your throat as readily--as readily as I would Black
Michael's, and a deal more treacherously. What's the letter?"
I opened it and read it aloud:
"If the King desires to know what it deeply concerns the King to know,
let him do as this letter bids him. At the end of the New Avenue there
stands a house in large grounds. The house has a portico, with a statue
of a nymph on it. A wall encloses the garden; there is a gate in the
wall at the back. At twelve o'clock tonight, if the King enters alone
by that gate, turns to the right, and walks twenty yards, he will find
a summerhouse, approached by a flight of six steps. If he mounts and
enters, he will find someone who will tell him what touches most dearly
his life and his throne. This is written by a faithful friend. He must
be alone. If he neglects the invitation his life will be in danger. Let
him show this to no one, or he will ruin a woman who loves him: Black
Michael does not pardon."
"No," observed Sapt, as I ended, "but he can dictate a very pretty
letter."
I had arrived at the same conclusion, and was about to throw the letter
away, when I saw there was more writing on the other side.
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