Hentzau was handsome, handsome as the devil; but the King was her man. And the King had trusted her; she would die before hurt should come to him.
There were wheels in the street—quick-rolling wheels. They seemed to stop a few doors away, then to roll on again past the house. The girl's head was raised; the old woman, engrossed in her stew, took no heed. The girl's straining ear caught a rapid step outside. Then it came—the knock, the sharp knock followed by five light ones. The old woman heard now: dropping her spoon into the pot, she lifted the mess off the fire and turned round, saying:
"There's the rogue at last! Open the door for him, Rosa."
Before she spoke Rosa had darted down the passage. The door opened and shut again. The old woman waddled to the threshold of the kitchen. The passage and the shop were dark behind the closed shutters; but the figure by the girl's side was taller than Bauer's.
"Who's there?" cried Mother Holf sharply. "The shop's shut to-day: you can't come in."
"But I am in," came the answer, and Rudolf stepped towards her. The girl followed a pace behind, her hands clasped and her eyes alight with excitement. "Don't you know me?" asked Rudolf, standing
