M. ZERKOVITCH'S BEDROOM FIRE
"Yes, Captain, yes; my journey ends at the Castle."
The men led away their horses, which sorely needed tending, and they mounted the wooden causeway side by side, both feeling foolish, yet sure they had done right. In the doorway stood Peter Vassip with his lantern.
"Your business, gentlemen?" he said. It was between two and three in the morning.
They looked at each other; Zerkovitch was quicker, and with a courteous gesture invited his companion to take precedence.
"Private and urgent—with his Royal Highness."
"So is mine, Peter," said Zerkovitch.
Markart's humor was touched again; he began to laugh. Zerkovitch laughed, too, but there was a touch of excitement and nervousness in his mirth.
"His Royal Highness went to bed an hour ago," said Peter Vassip.
"I'm afraid you must rouse him. My business is immediate," said Markart. "And I suppose yours is too, Monsieur Zerkovitch?" he added jokingly.
"That it is," said Zerkovitch.
"I'll rouse the Prince. Will you follow me, gentlemen?"
Peter closed and barred the gate, and they followed him through the court -yard. A couple of sentries
were pacing it; for the rest, all was still. Peter led them into a small room, where a fire was burning, and left them together. Side by side they stood close to the fire; each flung away his coat and tried to dry his boots and breeches at the comforting blaze.
"We must keep this story a secret, or we shall be laughed at by all Slavna, Monsieur Zerkovitch."
Zerkovitch gave him a sharp glance. "I should
189
