“My God, you shot him!” croaked Gudden. “I almost died of fright. I thought that, using chloroform . . .”
“You thought I’d just anesthetize the king and then throw him into the lake?” Von Strelitz made a dismissive gesture. “No, no. My mission was clear. To eliminate the king without running any risks whatsoever. And that’s what I’ve done.”
“But the bullet wounds,” whispered Gudden. “And the noise. They’ll come after us.”
“Not if you do exactly as we’ve agreed.” Von Strelitz took out his pocket watch and glanced at it. “It’s now exactly seven o’clock. The attendants and gendarmes have instructions to keep away from the scene for at least half an hour, and only then raise the alarm. Furthermore, I used a Girandoni air rifle.” He looked appreciatively at the gun at his feet. “An excellent invention. No powder smoke, no cartridge cases to give away what happened, no muzzle flash, and the sound of the report is well within bounds. So we have all the time we need. Now, kindly help me.”
Carl von Strelitz began unbuttoning the dead king’s coat and stripping it and his vest off him. He carefully made a neat pile of the bloodstained garments, having first taken Ludwig’s pocket watch out of the vest pocket. “Pity about this handsome watch,” he murmured. “Well, at least posterity will know His Majesty’s exact time of death.”
Then he brought fresh clothes out from behind a bush and fastened the watch to another vest.
“This way, we can convince the first eyewitnesses of His Majesty’s suicide by drowning,” explained von Strelitz, reaching for a clean linen shirt. “However, before the autopsy, Holnstein and Lutz ought to spend a few little sums of money on the doctors in Munich. I’ve heard that they are all pledged on oath to bear us out.” He shook his head dismissively. “If you ask me, we can forget that. In cases of doubt, only money and threats will work. You don’t get yourself a fine country estate by swearing solemn oaths.”
“But . . . but it’s a dark winter coat that you have there,” stammered Gudden, pointing to the new garment in the agent’s hands. “You can see, the king was wearing a light-colored . . .”
“Damn it, I was told he’d wear a dark coat,” whispered the Prussian agent angrily, as he went on cleaning the blood off Ludwig’s body and dressing it in the clean shirt and vest. “If your ministers are too stupid even to plan an assassination properly, it’s not my fault.” The sweat stood out on von Strelitz’s brow. It looked as though, even after death, the king was defending himself against this degrading process. From my hiding place, I watched as Ludwig’s head lolled back and forth like a puppet’s. I was in such a state of shock that I was incapable of movement. The king was dead, murdered before my eyes! Contrary to my own better knowledge, I hoped that all this was only a dreadful nightmare from which I would wake at any moment.
“All this is nothing but a farce,” said von Strelitz, still annoyed, as he threw the new coat and an undergarment a long way out into the water. “When Lutz told me to gather material that would incriminate the king, I assumed that you had at least a little substantial evidence on your side. But there was nothing except the complaints of a few servants whose feelings had been injured.” He laughed contemptuously. “And to cap it all, that little informer crosses my path again at Herrenchiemsee and almost gets past my camouflage. Quelle merde!”
I started behind my bush. At last I realized why von Strelitz had been on the island in the Chiemsee. He had been collecting evidence of Ludwig’s insanity, and I had gotten in his way. But what had Maria meant when she murmured, He’ll kill me, just before von Strelitz appeared in the wood? Was there something else that I didn’t know?
“You . . . you really have no cause for complaint.” By now Gudden had recovered his old academic arrogance. Nonetheless, he stalked back and forth on the bank, looking nervously around him, as von Strelitz dragged the king’s body over to the lake. “How much did Holnstein pay you for this mission?” snapped the doctor. “How much were you paid to change sides and work for the Bavarian government? Thirty thousand reichsmarks? Fifty thousand?” He stamped his foot angrily. “If you had done your work properly, if you had collected evidence, or forged it for all I care, we wouldn’t have had to resort to such means as these. You were probably paid a good bonus for committing the murder, isn’t that so?”
“He was a king, after all; don’t forget that,” grunted von Strelitz, pushing Ludwig’s corpse into the waist-high water. “Killing a king has always been well paid. It’s been the same ever since the time of Judas. Now, for heaven’s sake, help me.” He beckoned impatiently to Gudden. “Don’t be so squeamish; you’re welcome to get wet. After all, you’re to tell everyone, later, that you tried to save Ludwig when he decided to drown himself in the lake.”