He saw the face that glared so
eagerly at him; his eyes met Rassendyll's: a sudden suspicion
seized him, for the face, though the king's face in every
feature, bore a stern resolution and witnessed a vigor that were
not the king's. In that instant the truth, or a hint of it,
flashed across his mind. He gave a half-articulate cry; in one
hand he crumpled up the paper, the other flew to his revolver.
But he was too late. Rudolf's left hand encircled his hand and
the paper in an iron grip; Rudolf's revolver was on his temple;
and an arm was stretched out from behind the curtain, holding
another barrel full before his eyes, while a dry voice said,
"You'd best take it quietly." Then Sapt stepped out.
Rischenheim had no words to meet the sudden transformation of the
interview. He seemed to be able to do nothing but stare at Rudolf
Rassendyll. Sapt wasted no time. He snatched the count's revolver
and stowed it in his own pocket.
"Now take the paper," said he to Rudolf, and his barrel held
Rischenheim motionless while Rudolf wrenched the precious
document from his fingers. "Look if it's the right one. No, don't
read it through; just look. Is it right? That's good. Now put
your revolver to his head again.
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