into the arms of young Bernenstein, the Officer of the Guard, who was going his rounds. Sapt knew and trusted him, for he had been with us all through the siege of Zenda, when Michael kept the King a prisoner, and he bore marks given him by Rupert of Hentzau's ruffians. He now held a commission as lieutenant in the Cuirassiers of the King's Guard.
He noticed Sapt's bearing, for he cried out in a low voice:
"Anything wrong, sir?"
"Bernenstein, my boy, the Castle's all right about here. Go round to the front, and, hang you, stay there," said Sapt.
The officer stared, as well he might. Sapt caught him by the arm.
"No, stay here. See, stand by the door there that leads to the royal apartments. Stand there, and let nobody pass. You understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"And whatever you hear, don't look round."
Bernenstein's bewilderment grew greater; but Sapt was Constable, and on Sapt's shoulders lay the responsibility for the safety of Zenda and all in it.
"Very well, sir," he said with a submissive shrug, and he drew his sword and stood by the door: he could obey although he could not understand.
Sapt ran on. Opening the gate that led
