“And none but a coward and a villain would pursue so base a claim!” said Raby; and drawing off his embroidered glove, he struck it full upon Sir Barton’s face. In an instant Henge’s sword flew from the scabbard; but Sir Francis Bryan, springing on him as suddenly, snatched it away and snapped it asunder. “Hell and damnation!” cried Sir Barton, “I will have satisfaction.” “Not here or now,” exclaimed Bryan, in a tone of authority. But even as he spoke, they were startled by a shriek so shrill, so agonized, that their hearts stood still. “’Tis the queen’s voice,” screamed Mary, forgetful of everything but her beloved mistress. “Help!--treason, treason!” shrieked the queen, in a tone of anguish. They dashed up the stairs, jostling each other in their eagerness; but Mistress Wyatt outstripped them all, and was the first to enter the mysterious chamber. Here a strange sight met their eyes. It was a large square room, the roof of glass and the walls hung with crimson. There was no furniture in it but a great mirror that was opposite the door. In the center of the place stood Queen Anne; she had dropped her mantle and mask, and was revealed in her splendid dress of white and silver; her long hair had escaped its bonds and hung wildly about her deathlike face. She looked more like a corpse than one alive, save for her eyes, which were dilated with the terror of a mad woman. Before her, calm and unruffled, stood the strange figure of the wizard, looking at her in mild surprise. “Treason!” she cried again, as her attendants burst into the room; “he is a traitor! Seize him, gentlemen, bind him, in the king’s name!” Raby already had his hand on the wizard’s collar and had drawn his sword, but Sanders was calm. “Her grace is overwrought,” he said coolly. “She asked to look into the future; I but obeyed her behest.” “God’s death!” shrieked the queen, with a recurrence of her anguish, “he would have slain me, gentlemen!” “Madam, I do beseech you, do me justice,” protested the wizard. “I laid no finger on you, nor intended harm to a hair of your royal head. Your grace should believe that I can but reveal, and not alter destiny.” The queen stood a moment staring at him wildly, and then, despite Mistress Wyatt’s supporting arm, she fell forward on her knees, pressing her hands over her face. “Alas!” she said, “the sight will kill me.” “Call the Captain of the Guard,” cried Lady Rochford; “the villain hath bewitched the queen; she faints, she dies!” Both Mary Wyatt and Betty were supporting Anne’s sinking form. “Madam, I pray you remember that you are the Queen of England,” whispered her favorite, looking in agony at the white face of her mistress. “The traitor has poisoned her!” exclaimed Sir Francis; “he shall hang at Tyburn!” “I swear I have not harmed her,” retorted Sanders, casting an anxious glance at the stricken woman.