lied Jeffreys. "'Twas built by an
arch-robber, but the Queen favours it and dwells in it at times. 'Tis
the goodliest palace along the Strand."

The Savoy, already centuries old and crumbling to decay, was passed;
and then, by other noble edifices, the wayfarers went to the village of
Charing.

They turned down by Queen Eleanor's Cross into the street leading to
Whitehall itself. They passed through the Holbein Gate, down King's
Street; and close under the shadow of the hoary abbey of St. Peter they
halted at Raleigh's lodgings. Captain Dawe and his guide were resting
in the cool porch and awaiting them.

Chapter XXII.

THE QUEEN.

John Morgan, yeoman and forester, rose from his knee, and stood, with
bowed head and fumbling fingers, abashed in a most august presence. He
plucked nervously at his cap, and dared not raise his face to confront
the calm countenance of his sovereign. Elizabeth, for her part,
scanned him most critically from top to toe. She noted the cut of his
clothes, the stiffness of his ruff, the size of the buckles on his
shoon; from these to the colour of his hair and the healthy tan of his
skin, nothing escaped her. She was rapidly measuring him, height and
girth, with the proportions of her handsome Devon knight who had led
the shy young stalwart in.

"So this is the gallant young fellow who bled in thy service?" she said
to Raleigh.

"And in the service of your Majesty," added the knight. "He saved the
life of your humblest servant, but he also fought and bled in defence
of your Majesty's honour and the integrity of your dominions."

Elizabeth looked again at the bent head. "Dost know the colour of mine
eyes, Master Morgan?" she asked sharply.

"The colour of heaven, your Majesty," gasped Johnnie.

The Queen laughed. "I thought thou hadst not looked at them. 'Tis
easy to see that thou hast kept company with a certain Walter Raleigh;
thou canst assume modesty and yet flatter as glibly as he."

"Your Majesty!" cried Raleigh.

"Hath excellent eyesight, thank God!" added Elizabeth. "I wish I had
found Master Morgan a simpler gentleman. I am sick of pretty speeches,
and thought to find a plain, unspoiled Englishman who would speak
naught but truth. Wilt let me see what colour thine eyes are, Master
Morgan? I have noted every hair on the top of thy head."

Johnnie raised a flushed face to the pale, cool countenance of his
sovereign.

"Dost not find mine eyes _green_?