Rischenheim rose to his feet.
"You stay, if you like," said Rudolf, and the count knelt again by his kinsman.
Seeing the rough bedsteads by the wall of the attic, I touched Rischenheim on the shoulder and pointed to one of them.

Together we lifted Rupert of Hentzau.

The revolver was still in his hand, but Bernenstein disengaged it from his grasp.

Then Rischenheim and I laid him down, disposing his body decently and spreading over it his riding cloak, still spotted with the mud gathered on his midnight expedition to the hunting-lodge.

His face looked much as before the shot was fired; in death, as in life, he was the handsomest fellow in all Ruritania.