Fritz von Tarlenheim was standing by.
"By heaven!" he cried, "we waste time.

Aren't we going to throw Black Michael by the heels ?" "Gently, my son, gently," said Sapt, knitting his brows.

"It would be a pleasure, but it might cost us dear.

Would Michael fall and leave the King alive ?" "And," I suggested, "while the King is here in Strelsau, on his throne, what grievance has he against his dear brother Michael ?" "Are we to do nothing, then ?" "We're to do nothing stupid," growled Sapt.
"In fact, Fritz," said I, "I am reminded of a situation in one of our English plays--The Critic--have you heard of it?
Or, if you like, of two men, each covering the other with a revolver.

For I can't expose Michael without exposing myself--" "And the King," put in Sapt.
"And, hang me if Michael won't expose himself, if he tries to expose me!" "It's very pretty," said old Sapt.
"If I'm found out," I pursued, "I will make a clean breast of it, and fight it out with the duke; but at present I'm waiting for a move from him." "He'll kill the King," said Fritz.
"Not he," said Sapt.
"Half of the Six are in Strelsau," said Fritz.
"Only half?
You're sure ?" asked Sapt eagerly.
"Yes--only half." "Then the King's alive, for the other three are guarding him!" cried Sapt.
"Yes--you're right!" exclaimed Fritz, his face brightening.