l's
letters of enquiry.

The latter had long known that the unusual favor the king showed
the artist was an abomination, not only to the heads of the Holy
Inquisition, but also to the ambassadors and court dignitaries, yet
Moor's quiet, stainless life afforded no handle for attack. Soon,
however, unexpected aid came to him from a distance.

A letter arrived, dictated by Sutor, and written by Stubenrauch in the
fluent bad Latin used by him and those of his ilk. Among other things
it contained an account of a journey, in which much was said about Moor,
whom the noble pair accused of having a heretical and evil mind. Instead
of taking them to the goal of the journey, as he had promised, he
had deserted them in a miserable tavern by the way-side, among rough,
godless lansquenets, as the mother of Moses abandoned her babe. And such
a man as this, they had heard with amazement at Cologne, was permitted
to boast of the favor of His Most Catholic Majesty, King Philip. Kochel
must take heed, that this leprous soul did not infect the whole flock,
like a mangy sheep, or even turn the shepherd from the true pasture.

This letter had induced Kochel to lure Ulrich into the snare. The
monstrous thing learned from the lad that day, capped the climax of all
he had heard, and might serve as a foundation for the charge, that
the heretical Netherlander--and people were disposed to regard all
Netherlanders as heretics--had deluded the king's mind with magic arts,
enslaved his soul and bound him with fetters forged by the Prince of
Evil.

His pen was swift, and that very evening he went to the palace of the
Inquisition, with the documents and indictment, but was detained there
a long time the following day, to have his verbal deposition recorded.
When he left the gloomy building, he was animated with the joyous
conviction that he had not toiled in vain, and that the Netherlander was
a lost man.

Preparations for departure were secretly made in the painter's rooms in
the Alcazar during the afternoon. Moor was full of anxiety, for one of
the royal lackeys, who was greatly devoted to him, had told him that a
disguised emissary of the Dominicans--he knew him well--had come to the
door of the studio, and talked there with one of the French servants.
This meant as imminent peril as fire under the roof, water rising in the
hold of a ship, or the plague in the house.

Sophonisba had told him that he would hear from her that day, but the
sun