"Princess Margaret," he said, laying bitter stress on the words of courtesy, "I have come to declare to the ex-Queen these written intentions of the Government." He presented a roll of parchment, which our Lady made no movement to accept. He laid the parchment at her feet. "Your Royal Highness is granted until sunrise," he announced, "to repudiate the treason of John Brand." "Sydney," the Queen whispered, "speak to this man." My Lord Sydney turned his eyes slowly to the Dictator. "George, Duke of Ulster," he said, very quietly, "Her Imperial Majesty commands your attendance at sunrise here. Meanwhile she is pleased to grant you my escort to the gates." Still with the drawn sword in his hand, my Lord saluted her Majesty, and backed from the presence. "Sir," he said to the Dictator, "we have her Majesty's permission to withdraw. Come." He led Ulster away, and as they passed out of sight among the trees, "Father," he said, "father!" "What, you?" "There's no one in hearing, sir." The Dictator turned upon his son. "What do you mean?" "All courtesy, sir." "You abandon that woman's service?" "Otherwise, my dear father, you would have been shot in her very presence." "You take service with me?" "His Grace of Ulster loses the old acumen. Was there ever a time, sir, when a son of our honourable house failed to go over to the winning side? Come. I must get you out of this garden. Your life is not safe. And keep your eyes about you when we enter the Palace." "Jim, are you playing fair with your father?" "Time will show that." They gained the lower terrace, and Ulster, supporting himself upon the arm of his son, wondered why Sydney must turn to look back to the lake, the rose garden, and the bower where Margaret sat. "Good-bye," Sydney was muttering. "For ever and for ever, Margaret. Come, sir, come on," he laughed. "I've news for you." They entered the silent corridors of the Palace. "Queen Margaret has a keen scent for explosives, and all your thoughtful arrangements have been changed. From the Broad Sanctuary to Trafalgar Square your Departments of State are mined with high explosives. In your own office Gloucester's lying dead. There's conspiracy afield to take your life to-day, or Margaret would never have named to-morrow for surrender. Even with my help you may be dead by then. Hush! It's not safe to talk till we gain your ship." They crossed the throne room, traversed the State apartments, and gained the head of the alabaster stairs. "Guard, turn out!" cried my Lord, and the main guard paraded before they reached the porch. "By her Majesty's command,"--Sydney saluted the officer of the day. "The main guard is desired to attend my Lord Duke to his ship. Pass, sir," he said to Ulster, "I attend you." And as the main guard formed as an escort of State, Sydney hung back until Sergeant Dymoke passed him. "Dymoke," he whispered, "fall out."