The entrance of Don Miguel, Marquis de Suarez, created a diversion. "Ah, my dear Marquis," said His Eminence, with a sigh of relief, "your arrival is most opportune. I pray you help me to persuade Lord Everingham that we are not scheming black treachery against His Grace of Wessex." Don Miguel came forward, a smile of the keenest satisfaction upon his lips. "Why treachery?" he said lightly. But Everingham, having heard all that there was to know, was now in a hurry to depart. Having made up his mind to go through with his purpose to the end, he had but one wish--to turn his back upon the events which he had helped to bring about, and let them take their course. With it all he felt a keen antipathy for these two plotters who had drawn him into their net. Whilst acting in concert with these Spaniards, he had an overwhelming desire to insult them or throw his contempt in their smooth, clever faces. "Check and mate, my lord Cardinal," he said drily, as he took advantage of His Eminence's absence of mind to bring the game to a successful close. Then he rose to go. He was already booted and spurred for his journey northwards, and had unhitched his sword-belt when settling down to play. Whilst he was buckling it on again, Don Miguel approached him. "I entreat you, milor, do not talk of treachery," said the young Spaniard earnestly. "Believe me that in this matter, your conscience is over-sensitive. After all, what does His Eminence propose? Only this, that for a little while--a few days only perhaps--His Grace of Wessex should be led to believe, through the testimony of his own eyes, that the Lady Ursula Glynde is not altogether worthy to become Duchess of Wessex. The wench Mirrab will play her part unconsciously, and therefore to perfection. No one but His Grace shall be witness of the scene which we propose to enact, and though his disenchantment will be complete, do you think that he will greatly suffer thereby? Surely you do not imagine that he has fallen seriously in love with Lady Ursula in one hour: his own amour-propre will suffer a very transitory pang _et tout sera dit_." "The Duke of Wessex will never break his heart or quarrel with a friend for the sake of a woman," added the Cardinal in his smooth, gentle voice. "Like the bee, His Grace lingers over a flower only whilst he finds the perfume sweet," continued Don Miguel. "If he thinks the Lady Ursula false, he will turn to some other pretty maid with an indulgent smile for woman's frailty." All this sounded plausible enough, and Lord Everingham, at war with his own conscience, was only too willing to be persuaded that he was in no way wronging his friend. One scruple, however, still held him back and would not be denied. "There is one person in all this, my lord Marquis," he said, "whom I notice you and His Eminence scarce trouble to think about." "Who is that, milor?" "The Lady Ursula Glynde!" "Bah! What of her?"