ed by Chapuys' grooms, trencher boys and
javelin men, because the cook was a Fleming, and had a comfortable
hand in stewing eels.

Ned Poins must pass the ambassador's house in his walk, but in under
the dark archway there stood four men sheltering, in grey cloaks that
reached to their feet. Stepping gingerly on the brick causeway that
led down to the barge-steps, they came and stood before the young man,
three being in a line together and one a little to the side. He hardly
looked at them because he was thinking: 'This afternoon I will say to
my sister Margot: "Fifteen letters I have carried for thy great
persons. I have carried them with secrecy and speed. Now, by Cock, I
will be advanced to ancient."' He had imagined his sister pleading
with him to be patient, and himself stamping with his foot and
swearing that he would be advanced instantly.

The solitary one of the four men barred his way, and said:

'No further! You go back with us!'

Poins swung his cape back and touched his sword-hilt.

'You will have your neck stretched if you stay me,' he said.

The other loosened his cloak which had covered him up to the nose. He
showed a mocking mouth, a long red beard that blew aside in a wild
gust of the weather, and displayed on his breast the lion badge of the
Lord Privy Seal.

'An you will not come you shall be carried!' he said.

'Nick Throckmorton,' Poins answered, 'I will slit thy weazand! I am on
a greater errand than thine.'

It was strong in his mind that he was bearing a letter for the King's
Highness. The other three laid hands swiftly upon him, and a wet
cloak flapped over his head. They had his elbows bound together behind
his back before his eyes again had the river and the muddy path to
look upon. Throckmorton grinned sardonically, and they forced him
along in the mud. The rain fell down; his cloak was gone. And then a
great dread entered into his simple mind. It kept running through his
head:

'I was carrying a letter for the King--I was carrying a letter for the
King!' but his addled brains would bear his thoughts no further until
he was cast loose in the very room of Privy Seal himself. They had
used him very roughly, and he staggered back against the wall, gasping
for breath and weeping with rage and fear.

Privy Seal stood before the fire; his eyes lifted a little but he said
nothing at all. Throckmorton took a dagger from the chain round his
neck, and cut the bag from the boy's girdle. S