Halfman's head was swinging with pleasure. She had counted him in so glibly with the chosen ones, with the servants of God and the King. He was very sure now that his watch-word had always been "God and the King." "The King's cause must triumph," he echoed, his face shining with loyal confidence. "How we shall all smile a year hence," Brilliana answered, "to think that such pitiful rebels vexed us. But for the moment there is one of these same rebels to be faced--and to be fooled. About our plan, good captain." Halfman saluted her more enthusiastically than he had ever saluted male commander. "My general," he vowed, "he shall think these walls hold an army of wassaillers." He turned on his heel and marched briskly out of the hall. Brilliana looked after him, with the bright smile on her face, till the door of the banqueting-hall closed behind him; then the smile slowly faded from her face. "I would my spirits were as blithe as my speech," she thought, as she went to the table and bent over it, looking at the open map which Halfman had been studying. "What is going on in England, the King's England, little England, that should not be big enough to have any room for traitors?" She put her finger on the spot where Harby figured on the sheet. "Here," she mused, "we have been sundered from the world for all these days by this Roundhead leaguer, hearing no outside news but the ring of rebel shots and the sound of rebel voices. What has happened? What is happening? When we began the King was at Shrewsbury and the Parliament ruled London. What has come to the Parliament since? What has come to the King? Well, Loyalty House will carry the King's flag so long as one stone tops another. We will live as long as we can for his Majesty, and then die for him gamely." VIII THE ENVOY A sound of heavy steps disturbed her meditations. She stood up from her map, blinked down the tears that tried to rise, and turned to face new fortune. "Here is our enemy," she said to herself, and she forced back the confident color to her cheeks, the confident light to her eyes. The door from the park opened, and John Thoroughgood entered the room, holding by the hand a man in the staid habit of a Puritan soldier, whose eyes were muffled by a folded scarf of silk. Blindfolded though he was, the Puritan followed his guide with a steady and resolute step. "Halt!" cried Thoroughgood. The stranger stood quietly as if on parade, while Thoroughgood saluted his mistress.