The packet that he had flung lay unheeded. The king, wild
with alarm and furious with anger at his favorite's fate, jumped
up and ran past Rupert into the next room. Herbert followed; even
as they went Rupert flung the wounded, weakened beast from him
and darted to the doorway. He found himself facing Herbert, who
held a boar-spear, and the king, who had a double-barreled
hunting-gun. He raised his left hand, Herbert said--no doubt he
still asked a hearing--but the king leveled his weapon. With a
spring Rupert gained the shelter of the door, the bullet sped by
him, and buried itself in the wall of the room. Then Herbert was
at him with the boar-spear. Explanations must wait now: it was
life or death; without hesitation Rupert fired at Herbert,
bringing him to the ground with a mortal wound. The king's gun
was at his shoulder again.
"You damned fool!" roared Rupert, "if you must have it, take it,"
and gun and revolver rang out at the same moment. But
Rupert--never did his nerve fail him--hit, the king missed;
Herbert saw the count stand for an instant with his smoking
barrel in his hand, looking at the king, who lay on the ground.
Then Rupert walked towards the door.
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