"Harry, old friend," he called to his dog, "go, wait for me within. I have no need for thy company just now." The beautiful creature, with that peculiar unerring instinct of the faithful beast, seemed quite reluctant to obey. He stopped short, wagged his tail, indulged in all the tricks which he knew usually appealed to his master, begging in silent and pathetic language to be allowed to remain. But Wessex was quite inexorable, and Harry Plantagenet had perforce to go. The door closed upon the Duke's most devoted friend. In the meanwhile Don Miguel had evidently perceived His Grace, and now when Wessex turned towards him he exclaimed half in surprise, half in tones of thinly veiled vexation-- "Ah! His Grace of Wessex? Still astir, my lord, at this hour?" "At your service, Marquis," rejoined the Duke coldly. "Has His Eminence gone to his apartments? . . . Can I do aught for you?" "Nay, I thank Your Grace . . . I thought you too had retired," stammered the young man, now in visible embarrassment. "I must confess I did not think to see you here." "Whom did you expect to see, then?" queried Wessex curtly. "Nay! methought Your Grace had said that questions could not be indiscreet." "Well?" "Marry! . . . your question this time, my lord . . ." "Was indiscreet?" "Oh!" said the Spaniard deprecatingly. "Which means that you expect a lady." "Has Your Grace any objection to that?" queried Don Miguel with thinly veiled sarcasm. "None at all," replied Wessex, who felt his patience and self-control oozing away from him bit by bit. "I am not your guardian; yet, methinks, it ill becomes a guest of your rank to indulge in low amours beneath the roof of the Queen of England." "Why should you call them low?" rejoined the Marquis, whose manner became more and more calm and bland, as Wessex seemed to wax more violent. "You, of all men, my lord, should know that we, at Court, seek for pleasure where we are most like to find it." "Aye! and in finding the pleasure oft lose our honour." "Your Grace is severe." "If my words offend you, sir, I am at your service." "Is this a quarrel?" "As you please." "Your Grace . . ." "Pardi, my lord Marquis," interrupted Wessex haughtily and in tones of withering contempt, "I did not know that there were any cowards among the grandees of Spain." "By Our Lady, Your Grace is going too far," retorted the Spaniard. And with a quick gesture he unsheathed his sword. Wessex' eyes lighted up with the fire of satisfied desire. He knew now that this was what he had longed for ever since the young man's insolent laugh had first grated unpleasantly on his ear. For the moment all that was tender and poetic and noble in him was relegated to the very background of his soul. He was only a human creature who suffered and wished to be revenged, an animal who was wounded and was seeking to kill. He would have blushed to own that what he longed for now, above everything on earth, was the sight of that man's blood.