Bernenstein and I, amazed at this strange tale, scarcely understanding whether it were jest or earnest, stood staring stupidly at Sapt.

Then I, overcome by the strange thing, turned half-foolish by the bizarre mingling of comedy and impressiveness in Sapt's rendering of it, plucked him by the sleeve, and asked, with something between a laugh and a gasp: "Who had that other corpse been, Constable ?" He turned his small, keen eyes on me in persistent gravity and unflinching effrontery.
"A Mr.Rassendyll, a friend of the king's, who with his servant James was awaiting his Majesty's return from Strelsau.

His servant here is ready to start for England, to tell Mr.Rassendyll's relatives the news." The queen had begun to listen before now; her eyes were fixed on Sapt, and she had stretched out one arm to him, as if imploring him to read her his riddle.

But a few words had in truth declared his device plainly enough in all its simplicity.

Rudolf Rassendyll was dead, his body burnt to a cinder, and the king was alive, whole, and on his throne in Strelsau.