He returned to the hutch, perched himself and sat thinking, his eyes staring at the opposite wall. His mother drew a stool near to the door, and taking up a “Book of the Hours,” watched him, while pretending to read. She saw a secret, gloating smile steal over his face. He still pulled at his lower lip with his thumb and forefinger, and the smile on his face was not pleasant to behold. “What is in thy heart, Richard?” “Honours, madam, for my brother King. He shall not complain of me, neither shall his tongue be in danger of telling the truth. I shall so work with him that his lips shall be sealed.” “Gratitude, even secret gratitude, becomes a King, Richard.” “Mother, I am grateful; I shall not forget.” Such were the words spoken in the chamber of the Princess, but in the King’s chamber stranger words were passing between strong men. “I have done your work, sirs; now leave me to mine.” Fulk was walking to and fro, driven by his own desires. Yet three men baulked him—Salisbury, Knollys, and Cavendish the squire, standing with their backs to the door while he paced up and down. “We have not uncrowned you yet, Fulk Ferrers.” “What if I uncrown myself?” Salisbury’s eyes were grim. “By my faith, we will call it treason. Listen to me, my master; the danger is with us still—aye, greater danger, because some men are desperate. You are ours till it is past.” Fulk faced him, head in air. “Treason, my lord! Speak not big words to me. What I choose I choose.” “Big words are in other mouths. Cavendish—here, speak up, good Cavendish.” “I keep a dagger, sir, not a tongue.” Fulk flashed round on him. “Ha, cut-throat—Master Knife-in-the-back!” “True for you, Fulk Ferrers. I serve. I keep mum. But I am your comrade to the death if you keep troth.” “Play fair, lad, play fair.” “Fair! Am I to be fair to you all and false to my own self?” He turned, and, walking to the window, drummed with his fingers on the sill. Knollys had not spoken, but had watched and listened. He came forward now, and spoke in Salisbury’s ear. “Love fires the blood, sir. There is a man’s heart in his words. Leave me alone with him.” They went out, Cavendish remaining on guard outside the door. Knollys walked to the window and laid a hand on Fulk’s shoulder. “Lad, speak out; it is a woman.” Fulk did not stir. “True, a woman. I thought her dead. I saw her—living—to-day.” “Isoult—Isoult of the Rose? She who——?” “Isoult—aye, Isoult. In the hands of these scullions! God—I’ll not suffer it! She could have betrayed me to-day—you, all of us—but her heart kept troth. Knollys, I must out, beat the city——” Knollys’ hand gripped his shoulder. “Fulk, son Fulk, patience. What could you do, alone, lost in the first alley? Leave it to me. I have spies. They shall go and search.” “But to stand here kicking my toes against the wall!”