A copy of a letter of her Majesty's--"
"Of the queen's?"
"Yes, sire. It is addressed to--" Rischenheim paused.
"Well, my lord, to whom?"
"To a Mr. Rudolf Rassendyll."
Now Rudolf played his part well. He did not feign indifference,
but allowed his voice to tremble with emotion as he stretched out
his hand and said in a hoarse whisper, "Give it me, give it me."
Rischenheim's eyes sparkled. His shot had told: the king's
attention was his; the coats of the dogs were forgotten. Plainly
he had stirred the suspicions and jealousy of the king.
"My cousin," he continued, "conceives it his duty to lay the
letter before your Majesty. He obtained it--"
"A curse on how he got it! Give it me!"
Rischenheim unbuttoned his coat, then his waistcoat. The head of
a revolver showed in a belt round his waist. He undid the flap of
a pocket in the lining of his waistcoat, and he began to draw out
a sheet of paper.
But Rudolf, great as his powers of self-control were, was but
human. When he saw the paper, he leant forward, half rising from
his chair. As a result, his face came beyond the shadow of the
curtain, and the full morning light beat on it. As Rischenheim
took the paper out, he looked up.
Pages:
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96