and finding him gone his master had vowed death to any
who would intrigue at such hours with his promised wife. Cantemir, a
polished, hollow-hearted, selfish sycophant and coward, made more so
perhaps by Constance' influence over him, at Katherine's command, as
it were, had taken flight.

Constance listened eagerly the next morning, as she sat 'neath her
maid's hands, to every detail of the evening's adventure; but her
disappointment at such mischance was greatly allayed by the unexpected
presence of Sir Julian Pomphrey. He was second only to Lord Cedric in
her affections. Her greatest desire was to gain his Lordship's love;
if she could not have that, then she would try for the king's favour
whereby she would be able to live at court and be ever near Sir
Julian, whose mistress she had been and might be again.

She had begun well to bombard for the accomplishment of her first
desire.

As soon as possible she rode forth, passing beyond Crandlemar village,
where a short way from its confines she came upon a certain innocent
looking tree that had some six feet above its broad trunk a loosened
knot, which could be removed at will. She plucked it forth and looked
within. It was empty and barren of even a bird's nest. Constance had
no compassion for its loneliness when she laid therein a small, white
piece of paper and filled the orifice with the rough knot. She rode
away content and doubting not that Count Cantemir would soon have her
letter.

He had halted some five leagues beyond Crandlemar at an inn remote
from the highway, the landlord of which was a monk, dissembling his
name to Jacques Dempsy of the Cow and Horn, and his religion to
anything that was the king's pleasure.

The two sat in the deserted drinking-room; their heads bent together
and speaking in subdued tones. Cantemir's hand rested upon his leg,
that had been freshly washed and bound by the landlord.

Sir Julian's sword-prick had goaded Cantemir to an anger that was
'suaged neither by good old wine nor the council of the monk.
He fretted for an opportunity to thrust his assailant in the
back--anywhere. "Surely," said he, "the day is not far when I shall
kill that devil Pomphrey," His groom had seen Sir Julian full in the
face at a small opening in the trees.

"Sh!" said Dempsy, "there is other work for thee now. 'Tis best for
thee to bide here awhile, at least until a courier shall return from
the tree, where thou sayest thy cousin will place the b