ed those marvellous fashion-plates when
there was a cry outside of "Way 'nough!" and a moment later the smart
young lieutenant who had before accosted Rebecca entered and stood at
attention.

Elizabeth looked up and frowned slightly. Folding the paper carefully,
she called to Sir Walter, who still held in his unconscious hand the
other section of the paper.

"Bring hither yon sheet, Sir Walter," she cried. "Perchance there may be
further intelligence of this sort therein. We will peruse both pamphlets
at our leisure anon."

Then, turning to the Lord High Admiral:

"My Lord of Nottingham," she said, "you may depart. Your duties await
you without. Let it be the charge of your Grace," she continued,
addressing the Duchess of Devonshire, "to attend her Highness the Lady
Rebecca. See that she be maintained as suits her rank, and let her be
near our person that we may not lose aught of her society."

The ceremony of landing prevented further discourse between Rebecca and
the Queen, and it was with the greatest interest that the stranger
observed every detail of the formal function.

Peering through the glass sides of the cabin, Rebecca could see the
landing wharf, thronged with servants and magnificently dressed
officers, while beyond there loomed a long, two-storied white stone
building, with a round-arched entrance flanked by two towers. This was
Greenwich Palace, a favorite summer residence of the Queen.

CHAPTER XI

THE FAT KNIGHT AT THE BOAR'S HEAD

When Francis Bacon, having evaded Rebecca's mistaken pursuit, reached
the deserted grove in which the Panchronicon still rested, he found to
his dismay that Droop was absent.

Copernicus was not the man to let the grass grow under his feet, and he
had set off that morning with his letter of introduction to seek Sir
Percevall Hart, the Queen's knight harbinger.

He had determined to begin with moderation, or in other words to ask at
first for only two patents. The first of these was to cover the
phonograph. The second was to give him a monopoly of bicycles.

Accordingly he set forth fully equipped, carrying a box of records over
his shoulder by a strap and his well-oiled bicycle trundling along
beside him, with a phonograph and small megaphone hung on the
handle-bar. He thought it best to avoid remark by not riding his wheel,
being shrewdly mindful of the popular prejudice against witchcraft.
Thanks to his exchange with Master Bacon, he feared no comment