hing supported their fellow-servants by
the same unhesitating assertion, till Mendoza was convinced that he had
done enough, and turned his back on them all and went out with a grey
look of despair on his face.

He walked rapidly now, for he knew that he was going back to meet his
enemy, and he was trying not to think what he should do when he should
see Don John before him and at arm's length, but defended by the King's
presence from any sudden violence. He knew that in his heart there was
the wild resolve to tell the truth before his master and then to take
the payment of blood with one thrust and destroy himself with the next,
but though he was half mad with despair, he would not let the thought
become a resolve. In his soldier's nature, high above everything else
and dominating his austere conscience of right and wrong, as well as
every other instinct of his heart, there was the respect of his
sovereign and the loyalty to him at all costs, good or bad, which sent
self out of sight where his duty to the King was concerned.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XII

When he had sent away Mendoza, the King remained standing and began to
pace the floor, while Don John stood by the table watching him and
waiting for him to speak. It was clear that he was still angry, for his
anger, though sometimes suddenly roused, was very slow to reach its
height, and slower still to subside; and when at last it had cooled, it
generally left behind it an enduring hatred, such as could be satisfied
only by the final destruction of the object that had caused it. That
lasting hate was perhaps more dangerous than the sudden outburst had
been, but in moments of furious passion Philip was undoubtedly a man to
be feared.

He was evidently not inclined to speak until he had ascertained that no
one was listening in the next room, but as he looked from time to time
at Don John his still eyes seemed to grow almost yellow, and his lower
lip moved uneasily. He knew, perhaps, that Mendoza could not at once
find the servant in whose keeping the key of the door was supposed to
be, and he grew impatient by quick degrees until his rising temper got
the better of his caution. Don John instinctively drew himself up, as a
man does who expects to be attacked. He was close to the table, and
remained almost motionless during the discussion that followed, while
Philip paced up and down, sometimes pausing before his brother for a
mome