"He's not dead yet,"--the woman's eyes were kindling. "John never supposed he would dare to defy Lyonesse, or make himself Dictator, or depose the poor little Queen. You don't know what a man you're dealing with. Do you suppose he'll sit down meekly now?" "Sure," cried O'Brien, "he could stuff all his meekness into one back tooth." "You mark my words," said Mistress Sarah, gravely. "His Meekness has fangs in him yet, and if I know him, he will strike to-night." "Not if I'm dentist," said Brand of Lyonesse. He stood in the curtained doorway deadly pale, and, by reason of throbbing, insistent wounds a bandage about his head. To-night in token of service he wore again the splendid golden harness of the Guard. "I ask your forgiveness, gentlemen," he murmured. "Give him some wine!" cried Fortescue, "he's fainting!" "Wine," said the master, as reeling to the table he splashed champagne into a glass. "Yes, drink with me to our Lady Margaret, the Queen!" He swallowed the draught of wine, and gaining strength stood presently erect. "Yes!" He flung the glass shattering to the floor. "So ends Ulster to-morrow, and so perish all her enemies!" He fell into a seat beside the table. "I'm not very well," he explained; "my doctor's at his wits' end. Poor Boyes believes he can't keep me going another hour. Let me see,"--he was looking down at the table, his eyes half closed, trying to piece the words together--"I have a report to make; yes, it's about the ships. "The _Lion_ first, she's on guard. Two more are ready in the yards--old crocks, but they'll do to defend our base. I have good news. The--what's her name--I can't remember her name--brand-new ship of 25,700 tons under arrest at Glasgow, crew in gaol, ah, yes, the _Golden Hind_. It seems her people have broken out of gaol, captured the ship--left Glasgow heading south--coming to help. She hasn't reported to me yet--but she ought to have before now. That makes two ships to defend the base, with the _Lion_ and the _Golden Hind_ to fight. With these we can recapture ships enough to overthrow our Lady's enemies. Am I talking sense? I must be a little delirious. Here's a list of the ships to be recaptured. I forgot to bring the list." He held his forehead now with both hands, and his eyes strayed until they fastened on Lancaster. "How's your shoulder, lad? It hurts, eh? Will you be able to command the _Lion_ to-morrow? And you, my dear Lord Rothschild? And you, Lord Fortescue? Will you command the ships? The captains I trusted have been betraying me, all except Ross of the _Golden Hind_ and Simpson, commanding the _Lion_, but he's wounded. "Thank God there'll be no more _Gigantic_ to fight. The glass of the cupola shattered about our heads, and the cold broke in, and the yacht was rolling over and over, eh, Lancaster? But tomorrow, the conquest of England!