phrey could have believed it possible, he was
snoring loudly, his arm thrown under his head, and his tawny red locks in a
tangled mass, spread upon the softest cushion on which the cowboy had ever
rested.

Humphrey Ratcliffe paced the chamber at intervals till daybreak, and was
only longing for action, to be able to do something to relieve Mary's
distress--to scour the country till he found a trace of the villain, and
rescue the boy from his clutches.

This must be his immediate aim; but to do this he must gain leave from his
chief.

The tournament was over, but the Queen would most certainly require Mr
Sidney's attendance at Hampton Court Palace, whither it was rumoured she
was shortly to go in state, in the royal barge, with the French Ambassador.

Humphrey grew feverishly anxious for the time when he could see Mr Sidney,
and hailed the noises in the courtyard and the voices of the grooms, who
were rubbing down the tired horses after the conflicts of the previous day,
and examining their hurts received in the fray, which were in some cases
very severe.

Mr Sidney's rooms were reached by another staircase, and as the big clock
of the palace struck five, Humphrey went down into the porter's hall and
inquired of one of the attendants if Mr Sidney was stirring.

'He isn't stirring, for he hasn't been a-bed,' was the answer.

'Then I shall gain admittance?'

'Most like,' was the reply, with a prolonged yawn.

'Those are lucky who can slumber undisturbed, whether a-bed or up.
Yesterday's show fell hard on those who had to work at it.'

'I hear you let in a vagrant last night, Master Ratcliffe. The porter saith
if harm comes of it he won't take the blame. Most like a rascally Jesuit
come to spy out some ways to brew mischief.'

'A harmless country lout is not likely to brew mischief,' Humphrey said
sharply. 'The man came on urgent business, in which none here but myself
have concern,' and then he crossed to the door leading to the apartments
occupied by Mr Sydney and Sir Fulke Greville.

Humphrey Ratcliffe had not to wait for admittance to Philip Sidney's room.

He answered the tap at the door with a ready 'Enter,' and Humphrey found
him seated before a table covered with papers, the morning light upon his
gold-coloured hair, and on his beautiful face.

Humphrey Ratcliffe stopped short on the threshold of the door before
closing it behind him, and how often, in the years that were to come, did
Philip Sidney's