“Nay, Mistress Barry has need only to protest against the limitations of speech,” said the Duke, facing her and offering her his hand, which, after a moment's hesitation, she took with the homage that she would have given to the hand of a monarch. Then she dropped it with a half stifled sigh, and turned to the door without a word. “Wherefore fly?” said the Duke, raising the side of the _portière_ while she made a courtesy. “'T were better so, though I know your Grace cannot understand how flight should ever be linked with discretion.” “At least, let me conduct you to your chair, madam. Nay, I insist.” They had scarcely got beneath the glass dome before she had laid her hand upon his arm. “I was determined to see you face to face,” she said in a rapid whisper. “I have something of the greatest gravity that is for your ear alone. You would step between the Queen and disaster?” “I have done so before now,” said the Duke. “Heaven may be equally kind to me again. Come with me in my coach now; it is already dusk.” “No--no--that would be fatal to both of us,” she whispered. “We are surrounded by enemies--spies--purveyors of treason--the very life of the Queen is in danger.” “You speak sincerely,” said the Duke. “Come to my house after the play.” “Impossible! Your Grace little knows in what quarter the danger lies. I lit upon it by accident myself. Let me see. Ah, I have it: Sir Godfrey's painting room at a quarter after four on Thursday--this is Tuesday--yes, in secret--and in the mean time, not a word to living man or woman--not even Her Grace.” “Why not take your seat in my coach; it has curtains.” “Impossible! Ah, trust me to know wherein lieth safety and prudence. Hasten back. Good Sir Godfrey must not suspect.” “Heavens! You do not say that he is--” “He is true; but he talks. We need those who are dumb. Not a word in human ear.” He looked into her face--eagerly--searchingly. She never winced. He pressed her hand and returned to the studio. She was halfway down the street in her chair before she burst into a merry laugh. “Her Grace shall have enough of plots to last her for awhile at any rate. Our painter goes to Richmond on Thursday; he said so. Oh, Lud--Lud! how quick the notion came to me when His Grace appeared. Ah, Mistress Barry, thou hast not read in vain all that the poets have writ for the playhouse. I can see that they are both wild to show their devotion to Her Majesty. They would fain discover plots growing along the hedgerows of St. James's Park. They will be as easily trapped as tame pigeons.” “What,” cried Mistress Barry on Thursday afternoon, to the servant who opened the door for her at Sir Godfrey Kneller's house, “what! gone to Richmond? Nay,'t is not possible. I sit to him at four.” “My master said it would be five ere he returned from her ladyship's, madam.”