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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

"Rupert of Hentzau"

"
My compliment, or insinuation, produced a pleased smile and a
gallant twirling of his moustache.
"Well, I thought you'd be here soon," he said, "but I didn't know
that the queen had come."
"You didn't? Then why did you look for me?"
He opened his eyes a little in languid, elegant surprise. "Oh, I
supposed you'd be on duty, or something, and have to come. Aren't
you in attendance?"
"On the queen? No, not just now."
"But on the king?"
"Why, yes," said I, and I leaned forward. "At least I'm engaged
now on the king's business."
"Precisely," said he. "So I thought you'd come, as soon as I
heard that the king was here."
It may be that I ought to have preserved my composure. But I am
not Sapt nor Rudolf Rassendyll.
"The king here?" I gasped, clutching him by the arm.
"Of course. You didn't know? Yes, he's in town."
But I heeded him no more. For a moment I could not speak, then I
cried to the cabman:
"To the palace. And drive like the devil!"
We shot away, leaving Anton open-mouthed in wonder. For me, I
sank back on the cushions, fairly aghast. The king lay dead in
the hunting-lodge, but the king was in his capital!
Of course, the truth soon flashed through my mind, but it brought
no comfort.


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