No. She remembered the dates. These were somewhat different. The names of the regiments were the same, but the dates instead of days in April and May gave days in the months of June and July. And the numerals which at first had puzzled her were smaller. For instance, among “Highland Regiments Foot” the numerals of which she remembered particularly, instead of 120,000 she saw the numerals 42,000. It was the same under other headings in the remainder of the items. Under “shrapnel” there were changes, and under “artillery”---- She closed the packet in icy fingers, for the figures swam before her eyes. They were all true--all the horrible things that she had thought of Cyril! This was later and more accurate information--the exact reason for which she did not pretend to understand--and was intended to follow the previous message--perhaps to be used as a code in connection with it. Cyril was---- Oh, the dishonor of it! And she had gone to sleep almost ready to believe in him again--because he had let her burn the other papers. What did it matter to him whether she burned the papers when he had other messages to send and had committed to memory the facts he had let her destroy? He had lied to her. He was false as Judas and more dangerous, for now she knew that he was desperate as well as cunning, stooping to any means, no matter how ignoble, to gain his ends. She had been a mere bauble in his hands, a child upon whose credulity he had played without scruple. He had used her, the woman he had said he loved, for his own unworthy ends as he used Betty Heathcote and her house. She was filled with shame for him and for herself, who could love something shameful. And John Rizzio! Rizzio, Cyril’s enemy, stood for England and right, and she had permitted herself to see through Cyril’s eyes just as Cyril had wanted her to see. It seemed as she compared them that Rizzio’s nobility attained a firmer contour. He had come to her room to save her from her own ignorance and wilfulness, from committing a crime, the greatest of all crimes against England. Rizzio knew what Cyril was and on her account had refrained from giving Cyril up to the officers of the law, although they were within call--even when he felt himself yielding to the fury of Cyril’s superior physical strength. Not even the spirit of revenge for the punishment Cyril had given him, not even the humiliation he had suffered before her eyes had been enough to make him forget his intention to save, if he could, for the woman who loved him, a successful rival. And she, Doris, had stood by Cyril’s side warm in Cyril’s cause, against the one man who held Cyril’s fate as the bearer of treacherous messages, in his hand.