"You see," pursued Rupert, "it's not likely that they'll do you
any harm."
"I'll risk anything."
"Most gallant gentleman! At the worst they'll only keep you a
prisoner. Well, if you're not back in a couple of hours, I shall
draw my conclusions. I shall know that there's a king in
Strelsau."
"But where shall I look for the king?"
"Why, first in the palace, and secondly at Fritz von
Tarlenheim's. I expect you'll find him at Fritz's, though."
"Shall I go there first, then?"
"No. That would be seeming to know too much."
"You'll wait here?"
"Certainly, cousin--unless I see cause to move, you know."
"And I shall find you on my return?"
"Me, or directions from me. By the way, bring money too. There's
never any harm in having a full pocket. I wonder what the devil
does without a breeches-pocket?
Rischenheim let that curious speculation alone, although he
remembered the whimsical air with which Rupert delivered it. He
was now on fire to be gone, his ill-balanced brain leaping from
the depths of despondency to the certainty of brilliant success,
and not heeding the gulf of danger that it surpassed in buoyant
fancy.
"We shall have them in a corner, Rupert," he cried.
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