As we
watched we knew that all in the cottage must be dead. What could
we do? At last James started off in the hope of getting help. He
found a party of charcoal-burners, and they came with him. The
flames were burnt down now; and we and they approached the
charred ruins. Everything was in ashes. But"--he lowered his
voice--"we found what seemed to be the body of Boris the hound;
in another room was a charred corpse, whose hunting-horn, melted
to a molten mass, told us that it had been Herbert the forester.
And there was another corpse, almost shapeless, utterly
unrecognizable. We saw it; the charcoal-burners saw it. Then more
peasants came round, drawn by the sight of the flames. None could
tell who it was; only I and James knew. And we mounted our horses
and have ridden here to tell the king."
Sapt finished his lesson or his story. A sob burst from the
queen, and she hid her face in her hands. Bernenstein and I,
amazed at this strange tale, scarcely understanding whether it
were jest or earnest, stood staring stupidly at Sapt. Then I,
overcome by the strange thing, turned half-foolish by the bizarre
mingling of comedy and impressiveness in Sapt's rendering of it,
plucked him by the sleeve, and asked, with something between a
laugh and a gasp:
"Who had that other corpse been, Constable?"
He turned his small, keen eyes on me in persistent gravity and
unflinching effrontery.
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