urst
out and died again; and all the while the hateful, insolent melody rose
and fell; the horns bellowed; the drums crashed. It sounded like some
shocking dance-measure; a riot of desperate spirits moved in it,
trampling up and down, as if in one last fling of devilish gaiety....

* * * * *

Then suddenly the heads grew still; a wave of motionlessness passed over
them, as if some strange sympathy were communicated from within those
tall windows. The moments passed and passed. It was impossible to hear
those murmurs, through the blare of the instruments; there was one sound
only that could penetrate them; and this, rising from what seemed at
first the wailing of a child, grew and grew into the shrill cries of a
dog in agony. At the noise once more a roar of low questioning surged up
and fell. Simultaneously the music came to an abrupt close; and, as if
at a signal, there sounded a great roar of voices, all shouting together
within the hall. It rose yet louder, broke out of doors, and was taken
up by those outside. The court was now one sea of tossing heads and open
mouths shouting--as if in exultation or in anger. Robin fought for his
place on the projecting stones, clung to the rough wall, gripped a
window-bar and drew himself yet higher.

Then, as he clenched himself tight and stared out again towards the tall
windows that shone in bloody flakes of fire from the roaring logs
within; a sudden and profound silence fell once more before being
shattered again by a thousand roaring throats....

For there, in full view beyond the clear glass stood a tall, black
figure, masked to the mouth, who held in his out-stretched hands a wide
silver dish, in which lay something white and round and slashed with
crimson....

PART IV

CHAPTER I

I

"There is no more to be said, then," said Marjorie, and leaned back,
with a white, exhausted face. "We can do no more."

* * * * *

It was a little council of Papists that was gathered--a year after the
Queen's death at Fotheringay--in Mistress Manners' parlour. Mr. John
FitzHerbert was there; he had ridden up an hour before with heavy news
from Padley and its messenger. Mistress Alice was there, quiet as ever,
yet paler and thinner than in former years (Mistress Babington herself
had gone back to her family last year). And, last, Robin himself was
there, having himself borne the news from Derby.

He