"Here," says he, pushing a glass of spirits into my hand. "Michael will get you some dry clothes." And while I choked over the drink, and then stripped off my soaking weeds, he lounged in an armchair.
"So," says he, once I had pulled on the rough clothes they brought, and we were alone, "de Gautet bungled it, eh? I told them they should have let me do the business—if I'd been there you would never even have twitched. Tell me what happened."
Possibly I was light-headed with the brandy and the shock of what I had been through, or my fear had reached that stage of desperation where nothing seems to matter; anyway, I told him how I had disposed of his colleague, and he chuckled appreciatively.
"You know, I begin to like you better and better; I knew from the first that we'd get along splendidly. And then what? Our Dansker friends got hold of you, didn't they?" Seeing me hesitate, he leaned forward in his chair. "Come along, now; I know much more than you may think, and can probably guess the rest. And if you hold back, or lie to me-well, Mr Play-actor, you'll find yourself going for a swim with friend Hansen, I promise you. Who sent you here? It was the Danish faction, wasn't it—Sapten's precious bandits?"
"The Sons of the Volsungs," I admitted. I daren't try to deceive him—and what would have been the point?
"Sons of the Volsungs! Sons of the Nibelungs would be more appropriate. And you and Hansen were to try to rescue Carl Gustaf? I wonder," he mused, "how they found out about him. No matter. What did you expect to accomplish, in heaven's name? Two of you couldn't hope … ah, but wait a moment! You were the mine under the walls, weren't you? To open the way for the good Major Sapten's patriotic horde." He gave a ringing laugh. "Don't look so surprised, man! D'ye think we're blind in here? We've been watching them scuttle about the shore all day. Why, with a night-glass in the tower we watched your boat set out an hour ago! Of all the bungling, ill-judged, badly-managed affairs! But what would one expect from that pack of yokels?" He roared with laughter again. "And how did they coerce you into this folly? A knife at your back, no doubt. Well, well, I wonder what they'll think of next?"
Now, I was beginning to get some of my senses back, what with the warmth and the rest of sitting down. I was out of the frying-pan into the fire, no question, but I couldn't for the life of me see why he had killed Hansen and taken me prisoner—unless it was for information. And when he had got all that he wanted, what was he going to do with me? I could guess.
"Yes, what will they think of next?" He sauntered in front of the fireplace, slim and elegant in his tight-fitting black tunic and breeches, and turned to flash his teeth at me. "Suppose you tell me?"
"I don't know," says I. "It was … as you've guessed. We were to try to release him and let down the bridge."
"And if that failed?"
"They didn't say."
"Mm. Do they know our garrison?"
"They think … only a few."
"Well guessed—or well spied out. Not that it'll help them. If they try to storm the place their dear Prince will be feeding the fishes in the Jotunsee before they're over the causeway—do they know that, I wonder?"
I nodded. "They know all about it."
He grinned happily. "Well, then, we needn't fret about them, need we? It gives us time to consider. How many men have they over yonder, by the way? And be very, very careful how you answer."
"I heard them say fifty."
"Wise Flashman. I knew, you see." Suddenly he clapped me on the shoulder. "Would you like to meet your royal twin? I've been longing to bring the pair of you face to face, you know—and you can see, at the same time, the excellent arrangements we have for his … shall we say, security?—in the event of burglars. Come along." He flung open the door. "Oh, and Flashman." he added, carelessly smiling. "You will bear in mind that I'm not de Gautet, won't you? You'll do nothing foolish, I mean? You see, it would be a great waste, because I think … I think we may be able to try out a little scheme of mine together, you and I. We'll see." He bowed and waved me through. "After you, your highness."
We went down to the great hall, and there Rudi turned into a side-passage, and down a steep flight of stone steps which spiralled into the depths of the castle. There were oil lamps at intervals, glistening on the nitre which crusted the bare stone, and in places the steps were slippery with moss, We came out into a flagged cloister, with mighty, squat columns supporting the low ceiling; the place was in shadow, but ahead of us light shone from an archway, and passing through we were in a broad stone chamber where two men sat over cards at a rough table. They looked up at our approach, one with his hand on a pistol; they were burly, tall fellows in what looked like cavalry overalls, and their sabres hung at their elbows, but I wasn't concerned with them. Beyond them was a great iron grille, stretching from floor to ceiling, and before it stood Kraftstein, his huge hands on his hips, like an ogre in the flickering lamplight.
"Here he is, Kraftstein," says Rudi lightly. "Our old drinking-companion from Schönhausen. Aren't you pleased, now, that I didn't let you shoot him in the water? Kraftstein's got no manners, you know," he added over his shoulder to me. "And how is our royal guest this evening?"
Kraftstein said nothing, but having glowered at me he turned and drew a bolt in the grille. Rudi waved me through the gate as it groaned back on its hinges, and with the hair prickling on my neck, but spurred by curiosity, I passed through.
The grille, I saw, cut off the end of the vault, and we were in an enclosure perhaps forty feet deep and half as wide. At the end, opposite me, a man lay on a low couch set against the wall; there was a table with a lamp beside him, and at the sound of the creaking hinge he sat up, shading his eyes and peering towards us.
For some reason I felt a nervousness that had nothing to do with the danger of my situation; I felt I was about to see something uncanny—and this although I knew what it was going to be.
"Guten abend, highness," says Ruth, as we went forward. "Here's a visitor for you."
The man took his hand from his face, and I couldn't help letting out an exclamation. For there I sat, looking at me—my own face, puzzled, wary, and then in an instant, blank with amazement, the mouth open and eyes staring. He shrank back, and then suddenly he was on his feet.
"What is this?" His voice was strained and hoarse. "Who is this man?"
As he moved, there was a heavy, clanking noise, and with a thrill of horror I saw that there was a heavy chain on his left ankle, fettering him to a great stone weight beside the bed.
"May I have the honour to present an old acquaintance, highness?" says Rudi. "I'm sure you remember him, from your mirror?"
It was a weird experience, looking at that face, and hearing that voice when he spoke again—perhaps a trifle deeper than my own, I fancied, and now that I looked at him, he was a shade slimmer than I, and less tall by a fraction. But it was an amazing resemblance, none the less.
"What does it mean?" he demanded. "In God's name, who are you?"
"Until recently, he was Prince Carl Gustaf of Denmark," says Rudi, obviously enjoying himself. "But you'd regard him as a most presumptive heir to the title, I'm sure. In fact, he's an Englishman, your highness, who has been kind enough to deputise for you during your holiday here."
He took it well, I'll say that for him. After all, I'd known for weeks that my spitten image was walking about somewhere, but it was all new to him. He stared at me for a long moment, and I stared back, tongue-tied, and then he said slowly: