There was a
sudden tightening in the pressure of that crooked forefinger, a
flash, a noise. He was held up against the wall for an instant by
Rudolf's hand; when that was removed he sank, a heap that looked
all head and knees.
But hot on the sound of the discharge came a shout and an oath
from Bernenstein. He was hurled away from the door, and through
it burst Rischenheim and the whole score after him. They were
jostling one another and crying out to know what passed and where
the king was. High over all the voices, coming from the back of
the throng, I heard the cry of the girl Rosa. But as soon as they
were in the room, the same spell that had fastened Bernenstein
and me to inactivity imposed its numbing power on them also. Only
Rischenheim gave a sudden sob and ran forward to where his cousin
lay. The rest stood staring. For a moment Rudolf eyed them. Then,
without a word, he turned his back. He put out the right hand
with which he had just killed Rupert of Hentzau, and took the
letter from the mantelpiece. He glanced at the envelope, then he
opened the letter. The handwriting banished any last doubt he
had; he tore the letter across, and again in four pieces, and yet
again in smaller fragments.
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