"The Court finds the prisoner guilty, and its sentence is that the prisoner pay a fine of five thousand pounds, that he stand in pillory at Tyburn for one day, and that his ears be clipped by the common hangman, and that he remain in prison for three years—God save the Queen!" Then occurred a startling interruption, the prisoner spoke. "I am guilty of assault, my Lord," he cried, "but, before God and High Heaven, I am no conspirator; I, also, cry _God save the Queen_!" Then he sat down. All was over, the dread sentence had been pronounced, and forthwith the warders proceeded to lead the prisoner from the dock. The crowd departed, and in a few minutes the Star Chamber was untenanted save by a few warders. The terrible news had spread abroad and seditious cries, mingled with oaths and execrations, rent the air. The judges and King Philip had departed by private exits, but as the Pursuivant and his men reached the street a fierce contest between the military and the 'prentices arose. Great stones hurtled through the air, and the clubs of the "City Boys" made fine play with the swords and rapiers of the halberdiers. But the Household Guards, on their strong Flemish horses, swept all before them, and closing in a dense body around the Pursuivant, conveyed him to a place of safety. As Sir John Jefferay and his nephew William were about to leave the Court, an usher brought him a note. "From his Excellency the Spanish Ambassador," said the man. Turning to the friends who accompanied him, Sir John said— "Await me one moment, my friends." Then he drew William with him into one of the waiting-rooms of the Court, and eagerly opened the note. It was brief. "An hour hence I shall be with you at Gray's Inn, and the Cardinal will be with me. His Eminence wishes that no other person be present at our interview.—RENARD." "Oh, thank God, thank God!" cried Sir John, as he passed the letter to William. It was light amid the darkness, and the Treasurers noble face lost its look of despair and flushed with joy and hope! And well might it be so, for these two men, of all others in the realm of England, possessed influence with Mary and Philip of high and exalted nature. "No word of this to our friends," whispered Sir John to his nephew, as they proceeded to rejoin them. At this moment the roar from the street reached the little group, and they halted. Instantly it flashed upon the Treasurer's mind that it might derange all their plans if he and William were to be acclaimed by a wild, disorderly mob. "Adieu, my friends," he said to those who surrounded them, "it is necessary that we part here; William and I will return through the Abbey. We meet again to-night at Gray's Inn, to supper." All saw the wisdom of this, and Sir Philip Broke, noting the flush of hope in Sir John's face, whispered to him— "You have news—something to cheer our hearts?" "To-night you shall know all, I trust, but now depart, I pray you!"