“—Hansen’s body in the moat. I wish we had laid Starnberg by the heels, though; that’s one overdue in hell.”

That was bad news; I took a hurried look round, and then cursed my nervousness. Wherever Rudi was, it wouldn’t be here.

“It all passes belief,” said another voice, and I recognised it as Carl Gustaf’s. “Can it be true? A man who could take my place…an English impostor…and yet he came here, alone with Hansen, to try to save me.”

“He didn’t have much choice,” growls Sapten. “It was that or a rope.” Well, damn him; there was gratitude.

“Nay, nay, you wrong him.” It was Grundvig now, excellent chap. “He tried to make amends, Sapten; no man could have done more. Without him….”

“Do I not know it?” says Carl Gustaf. “I saw him fight; he saved me from that scoundrel. My God! what a death!”

There was a pause, and then Sapten says:

“Aye, well, give him the benefit of the doubt. But, I have to say it, in dying he performed you a service, highness, for alive he might have been a confounded embarrassment.”

Well, I wasn’t standing for this—besides, I know a cut when I hear one. I stepped softly through the archway.

“Sorry to be inconvenient, major,” says I, “but embarrassment or not, I am still here to serve his highness.”

It produced a most satisfactory effect; Sapten spun round on his heel, his pipe clattering on the floor; Grundvig sprang up, staring in amazement; the Prince, who had been seated at the table, swore in astonishment; there were two others there, behind the Prince’s chair, and doubtless they were suitably stricken, too.

Well, there was a fine babble and cries of wonder and inquiry, I can tell you; they were certainly surprised to see me, even if they weren’t exactly overjoyed. Of course, it was a difficult situation for them; heroes are so much less of a nuisance when they’re dead. There was even a hint of resentment, I thought, in the questions they poured at me—how had I escaped, where had I come from; I’ll swear Sapten was on the brink of demanding what the devil I meant by it.

I answered fairly offhand, describing the plumbing system of Jotunberg briefly, and how I had escaped from the lake. Grundvig and the Prince agreed it was a marvel; Sapten recovered his pipe and stuffed it with tobacco.

“And so,” says I, in conclusion, “I came back to offer my further services—if they are needed.” And I laid my sabre gently on the table and stood back. This chap Irving has nothing on me.

There was an awkward, very long silence. Sapten puffed—he wasn’t going to break it; Grundvig fidgeted, and then the Prince, who had been frowning at the table, looked up. God, he was like me.