A New Use for a Tea-tableIf I were to detail the ordinary events of my daily life at this time,they might prove instructive to people who are not familiar with the insideof palaces; if I revealed some of the secrets I learnt, they might prove ofinterest to the statesmen of Europe. I intend to do neither of these things. Ishould be between the Scylla of dullness and the Charybdis of indiscretion,and I feel that I had far better confine myself strictly to the undergrounddrama which was being played beneath the surface of Ruritanian politics. Ineed only say that the secret of my imposture defied detection. I mademistakes. I had bad minutes: it needed all the tact and graciousnesswhereof I was master to smooth over some apparent lapses of memory andunmindfulness of old acquaintances of which I was guilty. But I escaped,and I attribute my escape, as I have said before, most of all, to the veryaudacity of the enterprise. It is my belief that, given the necessary physicallikeness, it was far easier to pretend to be King of Ruritania than it wouldhave been to personate my next-door neighbour. One day Sapt came intomy room. He threw me a letter, saying:

　　"That's for you--a woman's hand, I think. But I've some news for youfirst.""What's that?""The King's at the Castle of Zenda," said he.

　　"How do you know?,"Because the other half of Michael's Six are there. I had enquiriesmade, and they're all there--Lauengram, Krafstein, and young RupertHentzau: three rogues, too, on my honour, as fine as live in Ruritania.""Well?""Well, Fritz wants you to march to the Castle with horse, foot, andartillery.""And drag the moat?'I asked.

　　"That would be about it," grinned Sapt, "and we shouldn't find theKing's body then.""You think it's certain he's there?""Very probable. Besides the fact of those three being there, thedrawbridge is kept up, and no one goes in without an order from youngHentzau or Black Michael himself. We must tie Fritz up.""I'll go to Zenda," said I.

　　"You're mad.""Some day.""Oh, perhaps. You'll very likely stay there though, if you do.""That may be, my friend," said I carelessly.

　　"His Majesty looks sulky," observed Sapt. "How's the love affair?""Damn you, hold your tongue!" I said.

　　He looked at me for a moment, then he lit his pipe. It was quite truethat I was in a bad temper, and I went on perversely:

　　"Wherever I go, I'm dodged by half a dozen fellows.""I know you are; I send 'em," he replied composedly.

　　"What for?""Well," said Sapt, puffing away, "it wouldn't be exactly inconvenientfor Black Michael if you disappeared. With you gone, the old game thatwe stopped would be played--or he'd have a shot at it.""I can take care of myself.""De Gautet, Bersonin, and Detchard are in Strelsau; and any one ofthem, lad, would cut your throat as readily--as readily as I would BlackMichael's, and a deal more treacherously. What's the letter?"I opened it and read it aloud:

　　"If the King desires to know what it deeply concerns the King to know,let him do as this letter bids him. At the end of the New Avenue therestands a house in large grounds. The house has a portico, with a statue of anymph on it. A wall encloses the garden; there is a gate in the wall at theback. At twelve o'clock tonight, if the King enters alone by that gate, turnsto the right, and walks twenty yards, he will find a summerhouse,approached by a flight of six steps. If he mounts and enters, he will findsomeone who will tell him what touches most dearly his life and histhrone. This is written by a faithful friend. He must be alone. If he neglectsthe invitation his life will be in danger. Let him show this to no one, or he will ruin a woman who loves him: Black Michael does not pardon.""No," observed Sapt, as I ended, "but he can dictate a very prettyletter."I had arrived at the same conclusion, and was about to throw the letteraway, when I saw there was more writing on the other side.

　　"Hallo! there's some more.""If you hesitate," the writer continued, "consult Colonel Sapt--""Eh," exclaimed that gentleman, genuinely astonished. "Does she takeme for a greater fool than you?"I waved to him to be silent.

　　"Ask him what woman would do most to prevent the duke frommarrying his cousin,and therefore most to prevent him becoming king?

　　And ask if her name begins with--A? "I sprang to my feet. Sapt laid down his pipe.

　　"Antoinette de Mauban, by heaven!" I cried.

　　"How do you know?'asked Sapt.

　　I told him what I knew of the lady, and how I knew it. He nodded.

　　"It's so far true that she's had a great row with Michael," said he,thoughtfully.

　　"If she would, she could be useful," I said.

　　"I believe, though, that Michael wrote that letter.""So do I, but I mean to know for certain. I shall go, Sapt.""No, I shall go," said he.

　　"You may go as far as the gate.""I shall go to the summer-house.""I'm hanged if you shall!"I rose and leant my back against the mantelpiece.

　　"Sapt, I believe in that woman, and I shall go.""I don't believe in any woman," said Sapt, "and you shan't go.""I either go to the summer-house or back to England," said I.

　　Sapt began to know exactly how far he could lead or drive, and whenhe must follow.

　　"We're playing against time," I added. "Every day we leave the Kingwhere he is there is fresh risk. Every day I masquerade like this, there is fresh risk. Sapt, we must play high; we must force the game.""So be it," he said, with a sigh.

　　To cut the story short, at half-past eleven that night Sapt and I mountedour horses. Fritz was again left on guard, our destination not beingrevealed to him. It was a very dark night. I wore no sword, but I carried arevolver, a long knife, and a bull's-eye lantern. We arrived outside the gate.

　　I dismounted. Sapt held out his hand.

　　"I shall wait here," he said. "If I hear a shot, I'll--""Stay where you are; it's the King's only chance. You mustn't come togrief too.""You're right, lad. Good luck!"I pressed the little gate. It yielded, and I found myself in a wild sort ofshrubbery. There was a grass-grown path and, turning to the right as I hadbeen bidden, I followed it cautiously. My lantern was closed, the revolverwas in my hand. I heard not a sound. Presently a large dark object loomedout of the gloom ahead of me. It was the summer-house. Reaching thesteps, I mounted them and found myself confronted by a weak, ricketywooden door, which hung upon the latch. I pushed it open and walked in.

　　A woman flew to me and seized my hand.

　　"Shut the door," she whispered.

　　I obeyed and turned the light of my lantern on her. She was in eveningdress, arrayed very sumptuously, and her dark striking beauty wasmarvellously displayed in the glare of the bull's-eye. The summer-housewas a bare little room, furnished only with a couple of chairs and a smalliron table, such as one sees in a tea garden or an open-air cafe.

　　"Don't talk," she said. "We've no time. Listen! I know you, Mr.

　　Rassendyll. I wrote that letter at the duke's orders.""So I thought," said I.

　　"In twenty minutes three men will be here to kill you.""T............