Toward the close of a sultry midsummer day, Lord Cecil, Earl of Salisbury and Prime Minister of England, after holding audience with the King, returned to his dwelling, glad to cast aside his decorations and forget during a few hours the weighty affairs of State. He was scarcely seated, with a glass of wine in hand, when my Lord of Monteagle was announced as waiting in the ante-chamber. 'Twas no strange thing for this nobleman to seek the Minister at his home, for between them there was a warm friendship, and it pleased Cecil to receive the other at any time he chose to visit him. He therefore ordered that Monteagle should be at once conducted to his apartment, and a second glass of wine prepared. As the peer entered, the keen eyes of his host noted that his bearing betokened a mind ill at ease. "Faith!" said he, rising from his seat and extending his hand, "thou bearest a most sour visage, my lord. Hath ridden in the sun, or did thy cook forget his occupation and serve thee an ill-prepared repast?" Monteagle smiled faintly. "Nay," said he, "'tis my mind which is somewhat disturbed." "Then sit thee down," cried Cecil cheerily, "and unburden thyself to me of all save affairs of State; of them am I exceeding weary, for the King hath a new hobby, a tax on beets and onions, in the discussion of which the afternoon has been consumed." "Then his Majesty devised another way----" began Monteagle. Salisbury raised his hand. "'Tis treason," said he in feigned displeasure; "wouldst have us in the Tower, good Monteagle, that thou speak so lightly of James' statesmanship?" Then changing his jesting tone to one of gravity: "But tell me, what troubles thee? Hath the air of France failed to restore the spirits of thy son, Effingston? He hath not returned?" "He is still in Paris," replied the other, touching his lips to the glass which had been proffered him, "I this day received a letter in which he speaks encouragingly of his health, and announces his return within the month. Thy mind is easy, my lord?" "And why not?" demanded the Prime Minister, holding aloft his glass that he might watch the reflection of the sun's rays upon the wine. "England is at peace, the King seated firm upon his throne, and the Ship of State rides on an even keel. Hast dreamed of treason, my Lord Monteagle?" "Perchance not treason," replied his companion, drawing his chair nearer, "but--certain things my son hath written, added to others coming under my own observation, have caused me some uneasiness--a shadowy suspicion, as it were, that an ill plan is brewing against the King's authority." "Tut!" cried Salisbury. "'Tis a fit of indigestion, about which thou hadst best consult thy doctor. Yet, what be these suspicions?" "Thou knowest," replied Monteagle, sinking his voice so that it scarce reached the other's ear, "there are certain Catholics among the nobles who chafe grievously under the exactions of laws passed by Parliament and approved by James."