"You see," remarked Sapt, "that your story is quite imaginary. For that fellow can see for himself that the lodge was not burnt down last night."
"That's true ; but excuse me, sir"
"Pray go on, James. I've told you that I'm interested."
"He can't see that it won't be burnt down to-night. A fire, sir, is a thing that may happen any night."
Then old Sapt suddenly burst into a roar, half-speech, half-laughter.
"By God, what a thing!" he roared; and James smiled complacently.
"There's a fate about it," said the Constable. "There's a strange fate about it. The man was born to it. We'd have done it before if Michael had throttled the King in that cellar, as I thought he would. Yes, by heavens, we'd have done it! Why, we wanted it! God forgive us, in our hearts both Fritz and I wanted it. But Rudolf would have the King out. He would have him out, though he lost a throne—and what he wanted more—by it. But he would have him out. So he thwarted the fate. But it's not to be thwarted. Young Rupert may think this new affair is his doing. No, it's the fate using him. The fate brought Rudolf here again, the fate will have him King. Well, you stare at me. Do you think I'm mad, Mr. Valet?"
