Ralph stood up quickly, still holding the papers, as the door opened, and Beatrice stepped forward into the room. The door shut noiselessly behind her. * * * * * She stood there, with the firelight playing on her dark loose-sleeved mantle, the hood that surrounded her head, her pale face a little flushed, and her black steady eyes. Her breath came quickly between her parted lips. Ralph stared at her, dazed by the shock, still gripping the bundle of papers. She moved forward a step; and the spell snapped. “Mistress Beatrice,” he said. “I have come,” she said; “what is it? You want me?” She came round the table, with an air of eager expectancy. “I--I did not know,” said Ralph. “But you wanted me. What is the matter? I heard you call.” Ralph stared again, bewildered. “Call?” he said. “Yes, I heard you. I was in my room at my aunt’s house--ah! a couple of hours ago. You called me twice. ‘Beatrice! Beatrice!’ Then--then they told me what had happened about my Lord Essex.” “I called you?” repeated Ralph. “Yes--you called me. Your voice was quite close to me, at my ear; I thought you were in the room. Tell me what it is.” She loosened her hold of her mantle as she stood there by the table; and it dropped open, showing a sparkle of jewels at her throat. She threw back her hood, and it dropped on to her shoulders, leaving visible the coiled masses of her black hair set with knots of ribbon. “I did not call,” said Ralph dully. “I do not know what you mean, Mistress Atherton.” She made a little impatient gesture. “Ah! yes,” she said, “it is something. Tell me quickly. I suppose it has to do with my Lord. What is it?” “It is nothing,” said Ralph again. They stood looking at one another in silence. Beatrice’s eyes ran a moment up and down his rich dress, the papers in his hands, then wandered to the heaped floor, the table, and returned to the papers in his hands. “You must tell me,” she said. “What is that you are holding?” An angry terror seized Ralph. “That is my affair, Mistress Atherton. What is your business with me?” She came a step nearer, and leant her left hand on his table. He could see those steady eyes on his face; she looked terribly strong and controlled. “Indeed you must tell me, Mr. Torridon. I am come here to do something. I do not know what. What are those papers?” He turned and dropped them on to the chair behind him. “I tell you again, I do not know what you mean.” “It is useless,” she said. “Have they been to you yet? What do you mean to do about my Lord? You know he is in the Tower?” “I suppose so,” said Ralph, “but my counsel is my own.” “Mr. Torridon, let us have an end of this. I know well that you must have many secrets against my lord--” “I tell you that what I know is nothing. I have not a hundredth part of his papers.”