"And destroy yourself with it, if there's the only way," he went
on with a surly smile. "Heaven knows why she must send such a
silly message at all; but since she must, she'd better have sent
me with it."

I knew that Sapt was in the way of jeering at all sentiment, and
I took no notice of the terms that he applied to the queen's
farewell. I contented myself with answering the last part of what
he said.

"No, it's better you should be here," I urged. "For if I should
lose the letter--though there's little chance of it--you could
prevent it from coming to the king."

"I could try," he grinned. "But on my life, to run the chance for
a letter's sake! A letter's a poor thing to risk the peace of a
kingdom for."

"Unhappily," said I, "it's the only thing that a messenger can
well carry."

"Off with you, then," grumbled the colonel. "Tell Rassendyll from
me that he did well. But tell him to do something more. Let 'em
say good-by and have done with it. Good God, is he going to waste
all his life thinking of a woman he never sees?" Sapt's air was
full of indignation.

"What more is he to do?" I asked. "Isn't his work here done?"