and amused, as if he
had expected the errand.

She said urgently:

'I would have you tell me what Englishman now wears a red hat and is
like to be in Paris. I am very ignorant in these matters.'

'Then meddle not in them,' he said, 'for that man is even Cardinal
Pole; one that the King's Highness would very willingly know to be
dead.'

'God forbid that my cousin should murder a Prince of the Church, and
be slain in that quarrel,' she answered.

He started back and held his hands over his head.

'Why, God help you, child! Is that your errand?' he said, deep from
his chest. 'I meddle not in this matter.'

She answered obstinately:

'Pray you--by your early vows--consent to carry me my letter.'

He shook his head bodingly.

'I thought it had been a matter of a masque at the Bishop of
Winchester's; or I had never come nigh you. Cicely Elliott hath copied
out the part you should speak. Pray you ask me no more of the other
errand.'

She said:

'For a great knight you are a friend only in little matters!'

He uttered reproachfully:

'Child: it is no little matter to act as go-between for the Bishop of
Winchester, even if it be for no more than a masque. How otherwise
does he not send to you direct? So much I was ready to do for you, a
stranger, who am a man that has no party.'

She uttered maliciously:

'Well, well. I thought you came of the better times before our day.'

'I have shewn myself a good enough man,' he said composedly. He
pointed one of his fingers at her.

'Pole is not one that shall be easily slain. He is like to have in his
pay the defter spadassins of the two. I have known him since he was a
child till when he fled abroad.'

'But my cousin!' Katharine pleaded.

'For the sake of your own little neck, let that gallant be hanged,' he
said smartly. 'You have need of many friends; I can see it in your
complexion, which is of a hasty loyalty. But I tell you, I had never
come near you, so your cousin miscalled me, a man of worth and credit,
had these ladies not prayed me to come to you.'

She raised herself to her full height.

'It is not in the books of your knight-errantry,' she cried, 'that one
should leave one's friends to the hangman of Paris.'

The large figure of Margot Poins thrust itself upon them.

'A' God's name,' said her gruff voice of great emotion, 'hear the
words of this valiant soldier. Your cousin shall ruin you. It is true
that he will drive from you all your good