I went and held out my hand to him. He took and pressed it.
"On my honour," he said.
Then I went out, and found Bernenstein sitting on a bench in the hall. The Lieutenant was a diligent and watchful young man; he appeared to be examining his revolver with sedulous care.
"You can put that away," said I rather peevishly—I had not fancied shaking hands with Rischenheim. "He's not a prisoner any longer. He's one of us now."
"The deuce he is!" cried Bernenstein, springing to his feet.
I told him briefly what had happened, and how the Queen had won Rupert's instrument to be her servant.
"I suppose he'll stick to it," I ended; and I thought he would, though I was not eager for his help.
A light gleamed in Bernenstein's eyes, and I felt a tremble in the hand that he laid on my shoulder.
"Then there's only Bauer now," he whispered. "If Rischenheim's with us, only Bauer!"
I knew very well what he meant. With Rischenheim silent, Bauer was the only man, save Rupert himself, who knew the truth, the only man who threatened that great scheme which more and more filled our thoughts and grew upon us with an increasing force of
