The Archbishop looked up.

"Mistress Torridon is dead, your Grace," he said softly and
questioningly.

"Oh, well," said the King; and thrust out his hand to be kissed.

* * * * *

Chris did not know how they got out of the room. They kissed hands
again; the old man muttered out his thanks; but he seemed bewildered by
the rush of events, and the supreme surprise. Chris, as he backed away
from the presence, saw for the last time those narrow royal eyes fixed
on him, still bright with amusement and expectancy, and the great
red-fringed cheeks creased about the tiny mouth with an effort to keep
back laughter. Why was the King laughing, he wondered?

They waited a few minutes in the ante-room for the order that the
Archbishop had whispered to them should be sent out immediately. They
said nothing to one another--but the three sat close, looking into one
another's eyes now and again in astonishment and joy, while Mr. Herries
stood a little apart solemn and happy at the importance of the role he
had played in the whole affair, and disdaining even to look at the rest
of the company who sat on chairs and watched the party.

The secretary came to them in a few minutes, and handed them the order.

"My Lord of Canterbury is detained," he said; "he bade me tell you
gentlemen that he could not see you again."

Sir James was standing up and examining the order.

"For four?" he said.

"Why, yes," said the secretary, and glanced at the four men.

Chris put his hand on his father's arm.

"It is all well," he whispered, "say nothing more. It will do for
Beatrice."

CHAPTER XII

THE TIDINGS AT THE TOWER

They debated as they stood on the steps in the sunlight five minutes
later, as to whether they should go straight to the Tower, or back to
Charing and take Beatrice with them. They spoke softly to one another,
as men that have come out from darkness to light, bewildered by the
sense of freedom and freshness that lay round them. Instead of the
musk-scented rooms, the formidable dominating presence, the suspense and
the terror, the river laughed before them, the fresh summer breeze blew
up it, and above all Ralph was free, and that, not only of his prison,
but of his hateful work. It had all been done in those few sentences;
but as yet they could not realise it; and they regarded it, as they
regarded the ripples at their feet, the lapping wherry, and far-off
London city, as a kind