ar at hand again.

"You shall have an opportunity of proving that a subject is at liberty
to insult his sovereign, and that the King is not free to speak his mind
to a subject. Can you prove that?"

"I cannot."

"Then you can be convicted of high treason," answered Philip, his evil
mouth curling. "There are several methods of interrogating the accused,"
he continued. "I daresay you have heard of them."

"Do you expect to frighten me by talking of torture?" asked Don John,
with a smile at the implied suggestion.

"Witnesses are also examined," replied the King, his voice thickening
again in anticipation of the effect he was going to produce upon the man
who would not fear him. "With them, even more painful methods are often
employed. Witnesses may be men or women, you know, my dear brother--" he
pronounced the word with a sneer--"and among the many ladies of your
acquaintance--"

"There are very few."

"It will be the easier to find the two or three, or perhaps the only
one, whom it will be necessary to interrogate--in your presence, most
probably, and by torture."

"I was right to call you a coward," said Don John, slowly turning pale
till his face was almost as white as the white silks and satins of his
doublet.

"Will you give me the letter you were reading when I came here?"

"No."

"Not to save yourself from the executioner's hands?"

"No."

"Not to save--" Philip paused, and a frightful stare of hatred fixed his
eyes on his brother. "Will you give me that letter to save Dolores de
Mendoza from being torn piecemeal?"

"Coward!"

By instinct Don John's hand went to the hilt of his sheathed sword this
time, as he cried out in rage, and sprang forward. Even then he would
have remembered the promise he had given and would not have raised his
hand to strike. But the first movement was enough, and Philip drew his
rapier in a flash of light, fearing for his life. Without waiting for an
attack he made a furious pass at his brother's body. Don John's hand
went out with the sheathed sword in a desperate attempt to parry the
thrust, but the weapon was entangled in the belt that hung to it, and
Philip's lunge had been strong and quick as lightning.

With a cry of anger Don John fell straight backwards, his feet seeming
to slip from under him on the smooth marble pavement, and with his fall,
as he threw out his hands to save himself, the sword flew high into the
air, sheathed as it was, and landed far away.