"
For a moment Rischenheim, still leaning forward, gazed at his
cousin. Then he sank slowly back into his chair.
"My God!" he murmured: "my God!"
"The king was a fool," said Rupert. "Come, I'll tell you a little
more about it." He drew a chair up and seated himself in it.
While he talked Rischenheim seemed hardly to listen. The story
gained in effect from the contrast of Rupert's airy telling; his
companion's pale face and twitching hands tickled his fancy to
more shameless jesting. But when he had finished, he gave a pull
to his small smartly-curled moustache and said with a sudden
gravity:
"After all, though, it's a serious matter."
Rischenheim was appalled at the issue. His cousin's influence had
been strong enough to lead him into the affair of the letter; he
was aghast to think how Rupert's reckless dare-deviltry had led
on from stage to stage till the death of a king seemed but an
incident in his schemes. He sprang suddenly to his feet, crying:
"But we must fly--we must fly!"
"No, we needn't fly. Perhaps we'd better go, but we needn't fly."
"But when it becomes known?" He broke off and then cried:
"Why did you tell me? Why did you come back here?"
"Well, I told you because it was interesting, and I came back
here because I had no money to go elsewhere.
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