d in his and kissed it passionately, his soul singing
a triumph song within him. Norfolk and Sussex and those other scowling
ones should soon be whistled to the master's heel.

As they turned arm in arm into the gallery to retrace their steps,
they came suddenly face to face with a slim, sleek gentleman, who bowed
profoundly, a smile upon h is crafty, shaven, priestly face. In a smooth
voice and an accent markedly foreign, he explained that he, too, sought
the cool of the terrace, not thinking to intrude; and upon that, bowing
again, he passed on and effaced himself. It was Alvarez de Quadra,
Bishop of Aquila, the argus-eyed ambassador of Spain.

The young face of the Queen hardened.

"I would I were as well served abroad as the King of Spain is here,"
she said aloud, that the retreating ambassador might hear the dubious
compliment; and for my lord's ear alone she added under her breath: "The
spy! Philip of Spain will hear of this."

"So that he hears something more, what shall it signify?" quoth my lord,
and laughed.

They paced the length of the gallery in silence, past the yeoman of the
guard, who kept his watch, and into the first antechamber. Perhaps it
was that meeting with de Quadra and my lord's answer to her comment that
prompted what now she asked: "What is it ails her, Robin?"

"A wasting sickness," he answered, never doubting to whom the question
alluded.

"You said, I think, that... that the end is very near."

He caught her meaning instantly. "Indeed, if she is not dead already,
she is very nearly so."

He lied, for never had Amy Dudley been in better health. And yet he
spoke the truth, for in so much as her life depended upon his will,
it was as good as spent. This was, he knew, a decisive moment of his
career. The hour was big with fate. If now he were weak or hesitant, the
chance might slip away and be for ever lost to him. Elizabeth's moods
were as uncertain as were certain the hostile activities of my lord's
enemies. He must strike quickly whilst she was in her present frame of
mind, and bring her to wedlock, be it in public or in private. But first
he must shake off the paralysing encumbrance of that house-wife down at
Cumnor.

I believe--from evidence that I account abundant--that he considered
it with the cold remorselessness of the monstrous egotist he was. An
upstart, great-grandson to a carpenter, noble only in two descents, and
in both of them stained by the block, he found a queen-