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"Are we , indeed? Just the two of us, eh? Well, setting aside your optimism and impudence, perhaps you’ll tell me how, precisely?" "You mean you’re game?" cries he eagerly. "You’re with us?" "Suppose you tell me why I should be."

"How can you not?" Kralta couldn’t believe her ears, like a queen with a farting courtier. "With the peace of Europe in the balance, and the lives of thousands, perhaps millions, at stake?"

"Ah, but are they? Forgive me if after being hoodwinked, lied to, held against my will, and threatened with prison and pistols, I: can’t help wondering if this great tale of a plot is true."

"Of course it’s true!" cries Willem. "Heavens, man, why should we invent it?" I gave this the shrug it deserved, and he cursed softly. "Look here, if you’re in a bait ’cos you’ve been bobbled and made a muffin of—" he sounded like a third-form fag "—well, I don’t wonder, but can’t you see we had no choice? Bismarck was sure we’d have to force your hand, and that this was the only way. Havin' seen you, I ain’t so sure he’s right." He ran a hand through his hair, and leaned forward, looking keen. "You ask me how you and I can stop the Holnup, and I’ll tell you the ins and outs presently, but in principle, now—ain’t it a stunt after your own heart? As I told you, nothin' smoky, but a dam' good deed, and a rare adventure! Why, the old guv’nor would have jumped at it—and you’d ha' been the first he’d have wished to have alongside!"

"And if you cannot forgive the deceits we have practised," put in Kralta, "think of the cause we serve. You have done brave deeds for your Queen and country, but nothing nobler than this." She hadn’t the style or figurehead to look pleading, but she absolutely laid a hand on mine, and her glance had more promise than appeal in it. "For my part, if I can make any amends …" She ventured a toothy smile, pressing my fin. "Please … say you will not fail us. All depends on you."

All of which confirmed my conclusion that they were under the misapprehension which has sustained me for a lifetime—they truly believed my heroic reputation, and thought I was the kind of derring-do idiot who’d answer the call of duty and danger like a good ’un, itching to fight the good fight. Bismarck knew better, which was why I’d been threatened with violence and the law, but now blessed if they weren’t appealing to my better nature. Remarkable … but you have to play the ball as it comes off the wicket, so …

"All very fine," says I. "But before I hear the ins and outs, let me tell you that so far you’ve made no sense. You say these Hungarian rascals are going to put paid to Franz-Josef, and you know where and when. Very well—round ’em up and string ’em up, why don’t you—"

"Because it ain’t that simple!" insists Willem. "Bismarck’s spy in the Holnup knows their plan, but not the names of the assassins, or where they are this minute. All we’re sure of is that they’ll have assembled somewhere near Ischl three days from now, and will strike before the Emperor returns to Vienna on Sunday next. That means the attempt will be made this Friday or Saturday—"

"Then let him go back to Vienna tomorrow, for God’s sake! Or if he’s fool enough to stay, surround his place with troops! Or hasn’t brilliant Otto Bismarck thought of that?"

"You do not understand." Kralta had me by the hand again. "None of these things is possible. No ordinary precautions will serve. You see, the Emperor does not know he is in danger—he must not know."

She meant it, too. I could only gape and ask: "Why not?"

"Because the Lord alone knows what he’d do if he did!" exclaims Willem. "It’s this way—no one knows of this plot except Bismarck, his man in the Holnup, and a handful of his agents, like ourselves. But suppose Franz-Josef, or the imbeciles who compose his cabinet, got wind of it—he’s the kind of purblind ass who would take it as a sure sign that all Hungary’s out for his blood, and he’d act according, orderin' arrests, repressions, perhaps even executions, or some such folly! He could provoke the very upheaval Bismarck’s tryin' to prevent. Hungary’s a powder-keg, and an outraged Franz-Josef is the very man to set it off." He drew breath. "That’s why he mustn’t know."

"There is another reason," says Kralta. "The Empress and Crown Prince make no secret of their Hungarian sympathies. She is adored in Budapest, and there are those who would welcome Rudolf as king of an independent Hungary. If the Emperor learned of the Holnup plot, he might easily be led to false conclusions."

"He wouldn’t be in the mood for a game of Happy Families, at any rate!" snaps Willem. "So there you have it. Now … Franz-Josef is only at Ischl by chance; normally he comes for a summer’s shootin', with a full retinue, but this week there are only the lodge servants, a couple of aides, and a file of sentries under a sergeant, more for ceremony than anything, and quite useless against assassins who know their business. There’s no earthly way to make him leave early without informin' him of the plot—so Bismarck has devised a way to guard him secretly, so that he don’t know he’s bein' guarded!" He laughed at my look of derision. "Impossible, you think? Oh, come, come, you know Bismarck; why, it’s nuts to him!"

"I’m waiting to hear what it is to me," I reminded him.

"Patience, I’m comin' to that. We leave the train this evening at Linz, where we spend the night, and catch the local train to Ischl in the morning, arrivin' at about noon. We spend the next thirty-six hours establishin' ourselves as tourists who’ve come to enjoy the attractions of the spa, browse in its boutiques, partake of the delicious confections for which its cafés are famous, and walk in the delightful countryside," says he airily. Never mind Bismarck, it was nuts to him, the jaunty ruffian.

"On Thursday morning, you and I will take a stroll in the grounds of the royal lodge, which lies a little way outside the town, refreshin' our spirits in the beautiful hilly woodland and admirin' the picturesque river meanderin' down to the town below. But now—" he spread his hands in comic dismay "—misfortune overtakes us. You slip, and sprain your ankle. I hasten to find help, and spy a gentleman out with his gun and loader—and damme, if it ain’t the Emperor of Austria! And if you think that’s one whale of a coincidence," says he, cocking an eyebrow, "it ain’t. Franz-Josef would rather shoot chamois than eat his dinner, and is in those woods at crack of dawn every day bar Sunday. If by some mischance he’s not, I’ll go to the lodge, but one way or t’other he’s goin' to learn that there’s a foreign gentleman in distress in his bailiwick, and when he discovers that ’tis none other than Sir H. Flashman, old acquaintance and saviour (well, nearly) of Brother Max in Mexico, he’ll be all concern and will undoubtedly offer him and his companion (a German count, no less) the hospitality of the royal residence for a day or two. And there, my dear Harry," chuckles he, "we shall be, honoured guests chez Franz-Josef, and if the Holnup can come at him while we’re on the premises … well, they’ll be smarter lads than I think they are, what?"