was in the young Duke's head. I drew aside and with a
surly bow let Carford pass. He returned my salutation with an equal
economy of politeness, and left me alone with Monmouth, who had now sunk
into a heavy and uneasy sleep. I roused him and got him to bed, glad to
think that his unwary tongue would be silent for a few hours at least.
Yet what he had said brought me nearer to the secret and the mystery.
There was indeed more afoot than the war with the Dutch. There was, if I
mistook not, a matter that touched the religion of the King. Monmouth,
whose wits were sharp enough, had gained scent of it; the wits went out
as the wine went in, and he blurted out what he suspected, robbing his
knowledge of all value by betraying its possession. Our best knowledge
lies in what we are not known to know.

I repaired, thoughtful and disturbed, to my own small chamber, next the
Duke's; but the night was fine and I had no mind for sleep. I turned
back again and made my way on to the wall, where it faces towards the
sea. The wind was blowing fresh and the sound of the waves filled my
ears. No doubt the same sound hid the noise of my feet, for when I came
to the wall, I passed unheeded by three persons who stood in a group
together. I knew all and made haste to pass by; the man was the King
himself, the lady on his right was Mistress Barbara; in the third I
recognised Madame's lady, Louise de Querouaille. I proceeded some
distance farther till I was at the end of the wall nearest the sea.
There I took my stand, looking not at the sea but covertly at the little
group. Presently two of them moved away; the third curtseyed low but did
not accompany them. When they were gone, she turned and leant on the
parapet of the wall with clasped hands. Drawn by some impulse, I moved
towards her. She was unconscious of my approach until I came quite near
to her; then she turned on me a face stained with tears and pale with
agitation and alarm. I stood before her, speechless, and she found no
words in which to address me. I was too proud to force my company on
her, and made as though to pass with a bow; but her face arrested me.

"What ails you, Mistress Barbara?" I cried impetuously. She smoothed her
face to composure as she answered me:

"Nothing, sir." Then she added carelessly, "Unless it be that sometimes
the King's conversation is too free for my liking."

"When you want me, I'm here," I said, answering not her words but the
frightened look t