The Duke had urged that his trial should come on speedily. This was readily granted, for he was the Duke of Wessex still. The trial itself would not last more than the one day, seeing that the accused had made full confession and only a few secondary depositions were to be read for form's sake. His Grace had refused counsel, there could be no argument. The judges on the face of the circumstantial self-accusation were bound, in the name of justice, to convict and condemn, in spite of public opinion, in spite of the machinations of the Duke's friends, in spite even of the Queen's commands. Once His Grace was out of the way, His Eminence had felt that he would be able to breathe more freely, but until then he was living at the edge of a volcano, and often wondered how it had not broken out ere now. The news of the crime and of Wessex' arrest had been sent to Scotland, he knew that; but the way thither was long, the late October gales would make the journey by sea difficult, whilst the overland roads, sodden with the rain, were unusually bad; but in any event, Everingham was bound to arrive in England within the next ten days, for, of a surety, he would travel with mad speed on hearing the terrible news. But now Mary Tudor suddenly offered him a definite promise, a bargain which he could clinch before exposure had shamed him publicly. The task proposed was indeed difficult, but it was not impossible to such a far-reaching mind as that of my lord Cardinal. A few moments' deep reflection, whilst the Queen watched him eagerly, and he had already formed a plan. "Does Your Eminence accept the bargain?" asked Mary impatiently at last, seeing that he seemed disinclined to break the silence. "I accept it, Your Majesty," he replied quietly. "You have my royal promise if you succeed." "If His Grace to-morrow is acquitted by his judges, through my intervention," said His Eminence, "I will claim Your Majesty's promise in the evening." "Your Eminence can have a document ready and I will sign it." "It shall be done as Your Majesty directs." "Then I'll bid Your Eminence farewell, until to-morrow." "I am ever at Your Majesty's service. But before retiring I would crave one favour." "I pray you speak." "To speak to the Lady Ursula Glynde." A long bitter laugh of the keenest disappointment came from Mary Tudor's oppressed heart. "Nay!" she said in a tone of deep discouragement, "an you pin your faith on that hussy, Your Eminence had best give up the attempt at once." "Did I not say that I would attempt the impossible?" said the Cardinal, unperturbed. "The impossible indeed, an you wish to appeal to that wench," retorted Mary drily. "Have I Your Majesty's permission to speak to the lady?" persisted the Cardinal blandly.