'What did you say?' he asked.
'A messenger has just come from Sigmundskron to inquire,' the servant
said.
'I will see him. Give the order to Karl quickly,' said Rex.
In the hall a queer-looking man was brought to him. He was one of those
thin, wiry, dark and straight-haired men of the Forest who seem to
belong to a race not German, whatever it may be. He wore patched
leather breeches, from the side pocket of which protruded the horn
handle of his long knife. His legs were bare, his shirt open at the
neck, his waistcoat with silver buttons was flung carelessly over one
shoulder, and a small fur cap was thrust back from his forehead, upon
which a few drops of perspiration were visible. His small and piercing
eyes met Rex's boldly.
'The baroness sent me to know how the young gentleman was,' he said,
speaking in the Swabian dialect.
'Herr von Greifenstein is dying,' answered Rex gravely.
'Then I had better go and tell her so,' said the man, calmly, though
his face fell at the bad news. He was already turning away when Rex
stopped him.
'Have you come on foot?' he asked, looking curiously at a fellow who
could run over from Sigmundskron and go back almost without taking
breath.
'Of course,' was the answer.
'Then you can go home in the carriage. I have just ordered it. Give him
something to eat quickly,' he added, turning to the servant, 'before
Karl is ready.'
'I shall be there before your carriage,' observed the man carelessly.
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