"Or does his faithful attendant, Herbert, shoot him?"
"What, make poor Herbert a murderer!"
"Oh, no! By accident--and then, in remorse, kill himself."
"That's very pretty. But doctors have awkward views as to when a
man can have shot himself."
"My good Constable, doctors have palms as well as ideas. If you
fill the one you supply the other."
"I think," said Sapt, "that both the plans are good. Suppose we
choose the latter, what then?"
"Why, then, by to-morrow at midday the news flashes through
Ruritania--yes, and through Europe--that the king, miraculously
preserved to-day--"
"Praise be to God!" interjected Colonel Sapt; and young
Bernenstein laughed.
"Has met a tragic end."
"It will occasion great grief," said Sapt.
"Meanwhile, I am safe over the frontier."
"Oh, you are quite safe?"
"Absolutely. And in the afternoon of to-morrow, you and
Bernenstein will set out for Strelsau, bringing with you the body
of the king." And Rudolf, after a pause, whispered, "You must
shave his face. And if the doctors want to talk about how long
he's been dead, why, they have, as I say, palms."
Sapt sat silent for a while, apparently considering the scheme.
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