The demeanour of Derrick Carver was stern and unmoved; but when the priest uttered a heartfelt prayer for the Prince’s deliverance, he could not repress a groan. As Osbert looked round at this moment, he fancied he could discern, within the deep recess of the doorway, the figure of Constance Tyrrell. If it were so, however, she had vanished before the others quitted the chapel. His devotions over, Philip arose, and in taking leave of the priest, promised the holy man an offering to Saint Julian, the patron saint of the chapel. He then bowed to the others, and declining further attendance, passed forth with Osbert, and proceeding to the quay, entered the boat which was waiting for him, and returned to the “Santissima Trinidada.” At the same time Derrick Carver was conveyed by Rodomont and the others to the Bar-gate, and locked up in one of the gloomiest cells of its subterranean dungeon. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration] CHAPTER X. THE MEETING AT THE GUILDHALL. No suspicion whatever had been entertained of the Prince’s absence from the ship. He was supposed to be alone in the state-cabin, where, as we know, the Count D’Egmont had been left as his representative, and, after the strict orders given to that effect, the Count remained entirely undisturbed. As time wore on, and midnight drew near, D’Egmont began to feel uneasy, and it was a relief to him when, shortly afterwards, the Prince appeared with Osbert. “I fear you must be fatigued with waiting for me, Count,” said Philip, as soon as the usher had retired. “I have stayed longer on shore than I intended.” “I trust your Highness has been amused,” observed D’Egmont, assisting the Prince to take off his mantle. “Heavens! what do I see?” he exclaimed. “The cloak is cut in pieces.” “Not unlikely,” replied Philip, laughing. “It has warded off more than one deadly thrust. Your cloak has done me good service, Count. Without it, Queen Mary might have wanted a husband, and the Emperor an heir to his dominions.” “Your Highness has acted rashly and unwisely in thus exposing yourself,” cried D’Egmont. “Recollect how much hangs upon your life. The destinies of the world would be changed if aught befel you. The saints have guarded you at this moment of peril, and will continue to guard you, but it is tempting Heaven to jeopardise your safety unnecessarily.” “You assume that I have acted rashly, D’Egmont,” rejoined Philip, “but I did not provoke the conflict. Set upon by assassins, I was compelled to defend my life. Thanks to your cloak and to my own right hand, I have come off without a scratch.” “I do not presume to ask for particulars,” said the Count. “But I trust you have not been recognised. If so, your secret visit to the town will be known to all within it to-morrow, and will assuredly be reported to the Queen.”