"And now I bid you 'good-day.' I would fain detain you longer, but business of State awaits me, and my time is not my own. Meanwhile you can prepare for me a written report of the state and condition of Calais." And so the good Cardinal dismissed them, and they hastened back to Gray's Inn. -------------- The evening was closing in, supper was over, and a happy family party was gathered together in the library. To-morrow many friends would join them, to welcome the return of the travellers; there would be Don Renard, Sir Philip Broke, the Lord Mayor, and other distinguished guests; but to-night theirs was a joy with which "the stranger intermeddleth not": it was a purely family gathering. Much they talked of the battle and siege of St. Quentin, much had they to tell of Egmont, Horn, Montmorency, and Coligni; but it was the ride through the forest and the encounter with the "gueux" which held Susan spellbound. Her eyes were fastened on the young warriors with irrepressible admiration, and glistened with love as she listened. Then the interview of the morning was told, and the Cardinal's intimation that they might be wanted at Whitehall that night was not forgotten. At this last piece of news Sir John seemed troubled. "I foresee," he said, "that the Queen or the Cardinal will offer you some military promotion and duty which would do you much honour, and perhaps delight your hearts. But danger lies that way. "The Queen's days are numbered—no man doubts it, and soon the Princess Elizabeth will be called to the throne. And to stand well with Mary, to be actively engaged in her service would be fatal to the statesman, soldier or lawyer when the new era dawns upon the world." Sir John spoke in a low voice, and with extreme gravity. "Remember also, my boys, that we Jefferays belong to the party of the Reformation; that at this very moment your father is an exile by reason of his religious opinions. Therefore I counsel you to resume your old occupation here, and, for the moment, to lay aside the sword. The time will soon come when you may re-consider the matter; I counsel you to await that hour with patience." The young men looked grave also, for it was in their hearts that if the Cardinal asked it, they would offer him their swords in defence of Calais while there were yet time to save it. It was at this moment that the old major-domo asked admission to the room; he brought them the news that a Queen's messenger stood at the door seeking an interview with his young masters. The summons to Whitehall had arrived, as the envoys told Sir John when they had interviewed the messenger. "Go, my boys, go, but remember my advice," said Sir John, as the family gathering came to an end. -------------- The journey to Whitehall was soon accomplished. The Royal Palace was shrouded in gloom; it was but dimly lit up, for it was not a "guest night."