k his vengeance on me. Already a dozen who had
attended my Lord of Beauvais' _levee_ that morning were fawning on the
Cardinal; the Queen had turned her shoulder to him; a great lady over
whom he bent to hide his chagrin, talked to him indeed, but flippantly,
and with eyes half closed and but part of her attention. For all these
slights, and the defeat which they indicated, I foresaw that I should
pay with my life: and in a panic, seeing no hope but in escaping on the
instant before he took his measures, I slid back and strove to steal
away through the crowd.

I reached the door in safety, and even the head of the stairs. But
there a hand gripped my shoulder, and the steward thrust a face, white
with rage and dismay, into mine. "Not so fast, Master Plotter!" he
hissed in my ear. "You have ruined us, but if your neck does not pay for
this--if you are not lashed like a dog first and hung afterwards--I am a
Spaniard! If for this I do not----"

"By the Queen's command," said a quiet voice in my other ear; and a hand
fell on that shoulder also.

The steward glanced at his rival. "He is the Bishop's man!" he cried,
throwing out his chest; and he gripped me again.

"And the Bishop is the Queen's!" was the curt and pithy reply; and the
stranger, in whom I recognized the man who had delivered the dog's cape
to me, quietly put him by. "Her Majesty has committed this person to the
Cardinal's custody until inquiry be made into the truth of his story,
and the persons who are guilty be ascertained. In the mean time, if you
have any complaint to make you can make it to his Eminence."

After that there was no more to be said or done. The steward, baffled
and bursting with rage, fell back; and the stranger, directing me by a
gesture to attend him close, descended the stairs and crossing the
courtyard, entered St. Honore. I was in a maze what I was to expect from
him; and overjoyed as I was at my present deliverance, had a sneaking
fear that I might be courting a worse fate in this inquiry; so grim and
secretive was my guide's face, and so much did that sombre dress--which
gave him somewhat of the character of an inquisitor--add to the weight
of his silence. However, when he had crossed St. Honore and entered a
lane leading to the river, he halted and turned to me.

"There are twenty crowns," he said abruptly; and he placed a purse in my
hand. "Take them, and do exactly as I bid you, and all will be well. At
the Quai de Notre Dame