the door open, saying, "Sire, the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim has the honour to wait on your Majesty." With this he shut the door promptly, and stood against it. Nor did he move, save once, and then only to take out his revolver and inspect it carefully.
The Count advanced, bowing low and striving to conceal a visible agitation. He saw the King in his arm-chair; the King wore a suit of brown tweeds (none the better for being crushed into a bundle the night before); his face was in deep shadow, but Rischenheim perceived that the beard was indeed gone. The King held out his hand to Rischenheim, and motioned him to sit in a chair just opposite to him and within a foot of the window-curtains.
"I'm delighted to see you, my lord," said the King.
Rischenheim looked up. Rudolf's voice had once been so like the King's that no man could tell the difference, but in the last year or two the King's had grown weaker, and Rischenheim seemed to be struck by the vigour of the tones in which he was addressed. As he looked up, there was a slight movement in the curtains by him; it died away when the Count gave no further signs of suspicion, but Rudolf had noticed his surprise: the voice, when it next spoke, was subdued.
"Most delighted," pursued Mr. Rassendyll.
