“Retire, thou presumptuous and intrusive varlet,” cried Bedingfeld. “This matter is too serious for thy interference.” “But for my interference, Sir Henry,” rejoined Xit, proudly and indignantly, “the plot would not have been discovered.” “There thou art wrong,” rejoined Bedingfeld; “the plot has been all along known to his Majesty. It was revealed to him by Lovel, who, it seems, has gone to his account.” “Lovel is killed, sure enough,” said Xit. “But I trust my services will not go unrewarded.” “Thy claims shall be considered hereafter,” said Philip. And as Xit, satisfied with this assurance, bowed and retired, he addressed the conspirators: “For the heinous crimes and offences you have committed, you cannot doubt what your sentence will be.” “We are all prepared for our fate,” said Dudley, resolutely. “In engaging in this enterprise we well knew the risk we incurred. Having failed, we are ready to pay the penalty.” “Do you deem your base attempt consistent with the principles you profess?” demanded Philip, contemptuously. “Ay,” rejoined Dudley. “Your gold has been one of the chief weapons used against this unhappy land, and it was the part of true Englishmen—as we are—to deprive you of it.” “Ye are robbers and felons, and shall die the death of such vile miscreants,” said Philip, coldly. “By this foul act you have forfeited your privileges as gentlemen.” “What!” exclaimed Osbert Clinton. “Are we to die like common felons?” “Such will be your doom,” rejoined Philip, sternly. “Your Majesty is too magnanimous to stoop to such an unworthy revenge,” said Osbert Clinton. “Let us die upon the scaffold. ’Tis the sole grace we ask of you.” “Ay, spare them this ignominious ending, I beseech you, Sire,” said Mauger, advancing from the guard, among whom he was standing, “and let them fall by my hand.” “I owe thee a guerdon,” rejoined Philip, “and will give thee their heads. As to you, Osbert Clinton,” he added, “I could devise no worse torture for you than your own bitter reflections will furnish. Had you not engaged in this last design, you might have been pardoned your former offences, have been restored to my favour, and have wedded Constance Tyrrell. Reflect upon this when you are alone in your dungeon.” “This is only said to torture me!” cried Osbert. “It is said that you may be aware of the happiness you have so recklessly thrown away,” rejoined the King. “At the intercession of Cardinal Pole, I had consented to pardon you, and, moreover, had promised his Eminence not to oppose your marriage with Constance. But there will be no pardon for you now—no Constance.” Osbert made no reply, but covered his face with his hand.