rd on behalf of the agent whose loyalty had failed to
save his master.

* * * * *

The boatman suddenly backed water with his left-hand oar, took a stroke
or two with his right, glancing over his shoulder; and the boat slid up
to the foot of the steps.

A couple of watermen were already waiting there, in the Archbishop's
livery, and steadied the boat for the four gentlemen to step out; and a
moment later the four were standing on the platform, looking about them.

They were at one of the smaller entrances to the palace, up-stream. A
hundred yards further down was the royal entrance, canopied and
carpeted, with the King's barge rocking at the foot, a number of
servants coming and going on the platform, and the great state windows
overlooking all; but here they were in comparative quiet. A small
doorway with its buff and steel-clad sentry before it opened on their
right into the interior of the palace.

One of the watermen saluted the party.

"Master Torridon?" he said.

Chris assented.

"My Lord bade me take you through to him, sir, as soon as you arrived."

He went before them to the door, said a word to the guard, and then the
party passed on through the little entrance-hall into the interior. The
corridor was plainly and severely furnished with matting under-foot,
chairs here and there set along the wainscot, pieces of stuff with
crossed pikes between hanging on the walls; through the bow windows
they caught a glimpse now and again of a little court or two, a
shrubbery and a piece of lawn, and once a vista of the park where Henry
in his younger days used to hold his May-revels, a gallant and princely
figure all in green from cap to shoes, breakfasting beneath the trees.

Continually, as they went, first in the corridor and then through the
waiting rooms at the end, they passed others going to and fro, servants
hurrying on messages, leisurely and magnificent persons with their hats
on, pages standing outside closed doors; and twice they were asked their
business.

"For my Lord of Canterbury," answered the waterman each time.

It seemed to Chris that they must have gone an immense distance before
the waterman at last stopped, motioning them to go on, and a page in
purple livery stepped forward from a door.

"For my Lord of Canterbury," said the waterman for the last time.

The page bowed, turned, and threw open the door.

They found themselves in a square parlour, carpete