“I find no blame in you,” said the merchant when he had done, “nor do I see how you could have acted otherwise than you did. It is Margaret whom I blame, for I only gave her leave to walk with you and Betty by the river, and bade her beware of crowds.” “Yes, father, the fault is mine, and for it I pray your pardon,” said Margaret, so meekly that her father could not find the heart to scold her as he had meant to do. “You should ask Peter’s pardon,” he muttered, “seeing that he is like to be laid by the heels in a dungeon over this business, yes, and put upon his trial for causing the man’s death. Remember, he was in the service of de Ayala, with whom our liege wishes to stand well, and de Ayala, it seems, is very angry.” Now Margaret grew frightened, for the thought that harm might come to Peter cut her heart. The colour left her cheek, and once again her eyes swam with tears. “Oh! say not so,” she exclaimed. “Peter, will you not fly at once?” “By no means,” he answered decidedly. “Did I not say it to the king, and is not this foreign lord bond for me?” “What can be done?” she went on; then, as a thought struck her, turned to d’Aguilar, and, clasping her slender hands, looked pleadingly into his face and asked: “Señor, you who are so powerful, and the friend of great people, will you not help us?” “Am I not here to do so, Señora? Although I think that a man who can call half London to his back, as I saw your cousin do, needs little help from me. But listen, my country has two ambassadors at this Court—de Ayala, whom he has offended, and Doctor de Puebla, the friend of the king; and, strangely enough, de Puebla does not love de Ayala. Yet he does love money, which perhaps will be forthcoming. Now, if a charge is to be laid over this brawl, it will probably be done, not by the churchman, de Ayala, but through de Puebla, who knows your laws and Court, and—do you understand me, Señor Castell?” “Yes,” answered the merchant; “but how am I to get at de Puebla? If I were to offer him money, he would only ask more.” “I see that you know his Excellency,” remarked d’Aguilar drily. “You are right, no money should be offered; a present must be made after the pardon is delivered—not before. Oh! de Puebla knows that John Castell’s word is as good in London as it is among the Jews and infidels of Granada and the merchants of Seville, at both of which places I have heard it spoken.” At this speech Castell’s eyes flickered, but he only answered: “May be; but how shall I approach him, Señor?” “If you will permit me, that is my task. Now, to what amount will you go to save our friend here from inconvenience? Fifty gold angels?” “It is too much,” said Castell; “a knave like that is not worth ten. Indeed, he was the assailant, and nothing should be paid at all.”